“Let’s just go without plans,” I suggested to Ken, and being a person who is good at being exactly where he is, he hadn’t made plans either. So we had ourselves a little wander day, getting in the rental car, heading north, and then turning right or left whenever we felt the inclination.
In Kansas, wander days have a different feel because we can generally see where we’re going from a long way off. In Vermont, the landscape is far more vertical with more sudden changes in the view. Turn a corner, discover a valley, or climb a mountain and find it morphs into another mountain. Drive down one
road and voila! — its name changes four times before turning back in Hwy. 14, which we kept finding ourselves on no matter where we think we’re going. Some roads almost vanished, overtaken by trees moving in from the edges and water flowing down to its lowest level.
By the end, we have walked a bit through a hippie village, yuppie arts town, hidden summer camp (where we did, truth be told, steal a ginger cookie), one-general-store-one-horse-town, bubbling mini metropolis, and Italian-stonecutter-cemetary of wonder. We ended the day at the Wayside Diner, a down-home place to eat pork chops and mashed potatoes, before heading back to where we started, tired from driving and refreshed from wandering.