Drew and I spent the weekend in Boston. It was a beautiful weekend, warm and active. I ate my favorite tart ice cream, had wine with a friend and picked up thai take out (in that order). Walking home from the restaurant, I carried mango & sticky rice soaked in condensed milk, stopped at every rosebush and agreed with a stranger who was talking to a date on a street corner (her to him: "you know who's a great crime writer, Michael Connelly" Me, walking by petting her dog: "you're absolutely right!").
I love the city; the anonymity and energy, having so many things at my fingertips. But at the end of the day, or the next morning - no matter how lovely - I'm ready to go back to Vermont.
To the air and the hills and these barns; wood painted red then white then worn to the perfect patina. There's really nothing like it.
That is a great barn!
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