E.O. Schaub

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but they’re digging a culvert on East Wells Road today. Yup. So, as the nice man with the mustache and orange vest will tell you, what’cher going to have to do is take Saw Mill to Lamb Hill. That’ll take you right around it.

What the nice man with the mustache and the orange vest won’t tell you is how you think you know a place after living there for twelve years, but you don’t. Right when you least expect it- he will neglect to tell you- an unexpected detour can change your whole outlook on things.

Acquaintances who live elsewhere will periodically ask us if one ever gets tired of the Vermont landscape; if, like any house with an especially scenic, or bucolic, or just downright breathtaking view- of the Jersey shore, of the Eiffel Tower, of the polar ice caps- one eventually grows so accustomed to that prized, pricey, location-location-location view that it ceases to enchant, and becomes, for all intents and purposes, invisible. It seems to me, sometimes, as if these folks are trying to justify why living in Vermont is nice and all, but, you know, not really worth the trouble and expense. Continue reading Ambushed by Wallace Nutting →