Migration is impossible to miss in Vermont when the nights turn chilly, leaves are falling and wind is whipping them around, while geese, high in the sky, pass noisily over my yard. Every day another formation works to maintain their V as they soar above traveling to a new world; their honking urging us all to reconsider our decision to stay behind. I mean, they are headed to a warm and infinitely easier location, while we are left to face whatever may come our way… (Here is where I admit that I have no real idea where the geese are going, I mean I know they are headed south, but where exactly they go for the winter, I can’t say.)

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