As we left my in-laws house Thanksgiving Day, it was early evening. The sun was going down supplying us with a beautiful sunset, the street lights were on and the house lights were being turned on.
The drive through the maze of neighborhoods with streetlights is as easy to navigate in the gloaming as it is in the day. We followed the lights, peeping into the houses as we passed, seeing other people celebrating the day. The streetlights slowly petered out as we drove onto I-91.
As we drove and the night got darker we could see out into what is know as the pioneer valley. Lights marking streets, parks and homes glittered into the distance. Lights flashed on the few high chimneys left from when the valley was full of huge brick factories fueling the economy of the valley so many years ago. Now the tall "plane" lights flash on cell phone towers that fuel our economy through commerce and trade.
As we drove further north the lights of Springfield, Holyoke, Northampton were left behind. We headed into darkness where the lights were to be found away from the highway. After a brief glimpse of the lights of Greenfield, the darkness surrounded us. We could see shimmer of lights on the hills and mountains as we passed by. Homes tucked safely away from the highway. Closer to the highway there were Christmas lights. A field of "deer", bright white and shining in the dark night and the occasional outdoor Christmas tree festooned with lights.
We arrived at our exit in Brattleboro. Here there are streetlights, guiding us down to the next turn which will being us down to Rte. 30. The lights grow further and further apart. By the time we hit Rte. 30 we are running out of lights. The houses have thinned out and we are at the end of the streetlights. Shining across from us, reflected in the West River are the lights from the Marina Restaurant and the lights from Putney Road businesses., but we are not heading there, we will follow the road north towards home.
There are times you can drive for miles on Rte. 30 and not see a soul. It is as if you are the last car in some apocalyptic film noir. The last survivors, on a lone road in Vermont. Then in the distance there is a small pool of light. A gas station/convenience store. We zip by it, by this point the lights are becoming annoying. As we pass it, the stars start to appear in the sky. Stars that you can't see when you have too much man made light around. There is a twinkling of light from a mountain top as somebody switches on a light in their house. Tucked off of the roads there are houses whose windows are lit in the golden light of a home.
Onward we go north. Now we are where there are no lights, well no street lights and in a lot of places no guard rails either. These are the places where only the reflection of our headlights reflect off the yellow stripes in the middle of the road and the white stripes on the sides guiding us along the winding road. Occasional road signs are there and even the occasional guardrail with it's bright, triangular reflective pieces.
We pass River Bend Market, the last big pool of light. Then up to Townshend, taking a right onto Rte. 35. There are streetlights here and there is a small country hospital. Plenty of lights and signs to let us know where we are. But just a few short miles out of the center of town, the streetlights are gone and the signs are few and far between.
It is once again gloriously dark and the road is ours. We hit a point where the white stripes indicating the edge of the road have all but faded out. We are totally dependent on the yellow stripes like the yellow brick road to guide us home. Even the houses with their warm lights have started to disappear.
By the time we reach our dirt road we have run out of houses, and it is dark. There is sliver of a moon hanging in the sky surrounded by a galaxy of stars. There are no houses here at the corner of our road. No bright lights, just a dirt road. We turn down the road. It becomes like a tunnel. The trees spread their branches over the road. During the summer it shades the road, during the winter they give the road a feeling of solitude.
Finally some lights appear, quiet lights, house lights, Christmas lights, and finally, the light that is like a beacon pulling us up our driveway to our home. A quiet outside light, calls us to the mudroom door and finally we are home. We turn on the inside lights and enjoy the beauty of being the pool of light in the darkness.
The drive through the maze of neighborhoods with streetlights is as easy to navigate in the gloaming as it is in the day. We followed the lights, peeping into the houses as we passed, seeing other people celebrating the day. The streetlights slowly petered out as we drove onto I-91.
As we drove and the night got darker we could see out into what is know as the pioneer valley. Lights marking streets, parks and homes glittered into the distance. Lights flashed on the few high chimneys left from when the valley was full of huge brick factories fueling the economy of the valley so many years ago. Now the tall "plane" lights flash on cell phone towers that fuel our economy through commerce and trade.
As we drove further north the lights of Springfield, Holyoke, Northampton were left behind. We headed into darkness where the lights were to be found away from the highway. After a brief glimpse of the lights of Greenfield, the darkness surrounded us. We could see shimmer of lights on the hills and mountains as we passed by. Homes tucked safely away from the highway. Closer to the highway there were Christmas lights. A field of "deer", bright white and shining in the dark night and the occasional outdoor Christmas tree festooned with lights.
We arrived at our exit in Brattleboro. Here there are streetlights, guiding us down to the next turn which will being us down to Rte. 30. The lights grow further and further apart. By the time we hit Rte. 30 we are running out of lights. The houses have thinned out and we are at the end of the streetlights. Shining across from us, reflected in the West River are the lights from the Marina Restaurant and the lights from Putney Road businesses., but we are not heading there, we will follow the road north towards home.
There are times you can drive for miles on Rte. 30 and not see a soul. It is as if you are the last car in some apocalyptic film noir. The last survivors, on a lone road in Vermont. Then in the distance there is a small pool of light. A gas station/convenience store. We zip by it, by this point the lights are becoming annoying. As we pass it, the stars start to appear in the sky. Stars that you can't see when you have too much man made light around. There is a twinkling of light from a mountain top as somebody switches on a light in their house. Tucked off of the roads there are houses whose windows are lit in the golden light of a home.
Onward we go north. Now we are where there are no lights, well no street lights and in a lot of places no guard rails either. These are the places where only the reflection of our headlights reflect off the yellow stripes in the middle of the road and the white stripes on the sides guiding us along the winding road. Occasional road signs are there and even the occasional guardrail with it's bright, triangular reflective pieces.
We pass River Bend Market, the last big pool of light. Then up to Townshend, taking a right onto Rte. 35. There are streetlights here and there is a small country hospital. Plenty of lights and signs to let us know where we are. But just a few short miles out of the center of town, the streetlights are gone and the signs are few and far between.
It is once again gloriously dark and the road is ours. We hit a point where the white stripes indicating the edge of the road have all but faded out. We are totally dependent on the yellow stripes like the yellow brick road to guide us home. Even the houses with their warm lights have started to disappear.
By the time we reach our dirt road we have run out of houses, and it is dark. There is sliver of a moon hanging in the sky surrounded by a galaxy of stars. There are no houses here at the corner of our road. No bright lights, just a dirt road. We turn down the road. It becomes like a tunnel. The trees spread their branches over the road. During the summer it shades the road, during the winter they give the road a feeling of solitude.
Finally some lights appear, quiet lights, house lights, Christmas lights, and finally, the light that is like a beacon pulling us up our driveway to our home. A quiet outside light, calls us to the mudroom door and finally we are home. We turn on the inside lights and enjoy the beauty of being the pool of light in the darkness.
