Vermont’s namesake Green Mountains, resplendent on a late summer day

There were no orcs, dwarves, or elves on this trip. Just one exceptionally bad hotel (the balance exceptionally good) and mainly smooth sailing. We traveled to Vermont chiefly so Chef David and I could visit his adult kids. Mission accomplished, fair to say. The conditions in New England were gorgeous, couldn’t have asked for any better. Fall tourist season is not quite yet in full swing, and the foliage only now is showing a bit of color. It was cool enough in the mornings and evenings for our Scout-the-Goldapeake-Retriever to enjoy (he is a cold-weather dog through and through and daily asks us why-oh-why we had to move to the South). Scoutie was still recovering from a pad wound but left it well enough alone and so was relieved of the cone of shame during our trip. Traveling with a 75-pound dog is challenging enough.

Last Tuesday we—all of us, including kids and their S.O.s—enjoyed that singularly New Englandish thing called apple picking, at Mad Tom Orchard. It was not a first for us, but so much fun and the day could not have been more stunning.

So where are the apples, one of David’s kids asked of the proprietors in jest. This orchard has a storied past and everybody in our crew was long familiar with it. By the time we left, our bags overflowed with apples on top of apples; friends and family will enjoy other goodies we nabbed there at the holidays. (We even pressed the professional photographer-kid into service snapping a photo of us in the orchard that’ll appear on our Christmas cards later on this year.)

There’s so much to love about Vermont, a place I yearned to visit for decades before a big turnaround in my life more than a dozen years ago serendipitously sent me there to live. Still, this time of year always stirred fear in my heart for what comes next. Vermonters possess a grit missing in me, but now I’m forever tied to it. Our time off was fun and needed, but we are road weary and happy to be home again.