Mountains and a New Normal

I've returned to a new normal this past week. My thesis finished and my degree nearly complete, there's been an adjustment. It's been warm and and after catching up on sleep, I've thought more of where I'm going and where I've been. A few days ago, I began to feel ready to graduate. As much as I love Vermont and how much I've changed and grown here, I know it's time for something new. The weather's warm and the windows are open again. I've woken to the birds each morning this past week.

This week too has been punctuated by mountains. A few weeks ago, in the busy-ness of job searching, interviewing and applying the final touches to my thesis and other assignments, I remember dreaming about Vermont's mountains. It was the end of winter, but it had appeared that spring might never arrive. I remember thinking of the trees and plants, how dead both are and how life is only brought to them part of the year. I thought of the constant presence of the mountains in this state. This past semester, I've driven weekly to Vergennes, a small town near Middlebury, about 45 minutes south of Burlington. I go  on Friday mornings with a friend to teach English to a migrant dairy farm worker. The experience has allowed me to examine U.S. immigration and the agricultural industry like never before. The road to Vergennes has been one of my absolute favorite drives in Vermont since my first trip to Middlebury two years ago. Hugging Lake Champlain for the full 30 miles, New York's Adirondacks line one side with Vermont's Green Mountains on the other. Farmland and red barns are abundant. I have yet to take any photographs on the drive that illustrate the calamity.
                           
                     
                            This one (taken on Friday) might come closest.

Early Friday afternoon, after returning to Burlington, I drove to Montpelier for lunch with a friend. Driving through the center of the state, the sky bright blue, I saw the mountains like I hadn't before. I noticed how the highway twisted around each one, how the interstate was continually uphill or downhill depending on the direction, I noticed the 15 miles between exits 10 and 11, followed by 9 miles, and then 6 miles as I reached farther south and the towns were closer together, the mountains farther apart.

That evening, I joined my friends Amanda and Katie for a trip to Burlington. We found ourselves by the lake early in the evening, where the icebergs floated freely, the weather warm but the lake still partially frozen. The Adirondacks sat on the other side, still snow-peaked.

Amanda, myself and Katie.

Returning to the roof of the parking garage an hour later, the sun was setting.

I feel more at peace than I have in a long time. I've been reading as much as I can and taking time to appreciate the place I live in. When I noticed the sun setting at 7:30 p.m. last weekend, I couldn't quite believe it was April already. Yesterday, as I watched hundreds of accepted students and their families arrive at my college, I thought of myself four years ago, remembering how much has changed, how much good has occurred.