Texas Falls

Moved from Waterhouses to Quechee near White River Junction still in Vermont. Along the VT125 scenic byway and the VT100 (hooray!) scenic byway. Neither disappointed as we travelled through the green mountains, lush pastures and pleasant villages.

The VT125 is named the Robert Frost Memorial Highway after the poet who is famous around these parts for his poems about the joys of living in New England a 100 or so years ago (he died in the 1960s). We followed the Robert Frost trail which wound its way through carefully recreated landscapes that reflected the scenes that Frost wrote about.

Susan has a particular favourite, which I’ve included as an extra. She was very pleased to find it at one of the stops on the trail:

Stopping by woods on a snowy evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.   
His house is in the village though;   
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   
To stop without a farmhouse near   
Between the woods and frozen lake   
The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

(The last two lines are part of a Runrig song “From the North - I wonder if there is a connection?)

Next up was the Texas Falls, another magnificent cascade of water over rocks and through gorges. Vermont is certainly a very special state, one that will repay further visits, perhaps from Quebec through Maine?

We’re at a KOA Kampground tonight, enjoying a campfire and an evening mercifully free of mosquitos (or so it seems). Another few bottles of local IPA have gone down a treat. A long drive tomorrow to our last overnight stop in Wales, Massachusetts, the nearest site to where we have to hand back the RV in Worcester.