Vermont 1, or Knees and Leaves and Fennel Seeds

[snapshot]

My bad knee is giving me trouble. I haven't walked so cautiously in the five years since I've injured it, but every tiny stumble makes me breathe sharp, quick, nervous. I put a brace back on it, and it hurts to go down the stairs. C rolls over in her sleep, and I wake up when I feel her weight on my leg. I don't like pushing her away at night.

[snapshot]

The ridgeline looks rusted over as the leaves die. Odd that I think of the foliage in terms of fire, and then once the leaves give up their color, I think of rust. The sun glimmers through the still-thick tree cover, like embers, dried blood, weathered paint against a fresh sky.

[snapshot]

The tea lounge has furniture that looks like it was rescued from abandoned classrooms and on the side of the road. One man runs the place, speaking gently and looking entirely out of place for small-town Northeast Kingdom - coffee-colored skin, thick, locked hair, a small piercing on the bridge of his nose. He brings me a pot of white tea mixed with green, tasting of spearmint, lemon balm, chamomile. C and I set up our computers. She's working on a website, I'm writing. She looks cute today - all plaid and pockets and inquisitive eyebrows. I sneak looks at her when I think she's absorbed.

[snapshot]

Vegan brunch downtown - full of tempeh sausage, seasoned with fennel and dried chiles, soft biscuit-scones, tea flavored with agave syrup. People talk about their favorite vegan cookbooks the way academics discuss their favorite theorists. I feel like a bit of an impostor, and possibly the only omnivore in the crowd, so I ask "What was hardest to give up?" The woman to my left grins at me, "My mother's borscht with sour cream. I'll never forget the first time I tried it without any. Yech."

[snapshot]

At the tea lounge, someone has taken large, long-necked gourds and painted them to look like Canada geese. They sit in the window, nuzzling each other in their little display nest. Inside, a woman's MacBook bears the sticker "Resistance is NOT Futile!"

[snapshot]

Stars. More than I've seen in a long, long time. And breath made visible. And the way the crescent moon hangs low, a cradling arm gesturing to lonely walkers on the paths across campus.