A visit to Edinburg
There’s something about rainy fall days, no? One of my favorites started with a rainy drive through Vermont one October weekend two years ago, the mountains ahead shrouded in fog; a stop for cheese and trinkets on the way, like a miniature maple syrup gift box for boyfriend’s mom; the sleeping cat curled up on a sweater in a corner of the general store; the alpacas behind our Bed & Breakfast; the dusty old mystery books in the bookcase downstairs.
A few weekends ago I was struck with deja vu on a drive up to Edinburg, a small town on the shores of the Great Sacandaga Lake, less than an hour from Saratoga Springs at the base of the Adirondack Park. Early October, winding roads flanked in ambers and yellows, russets and lingering greens; tires spitting water; the steady beat of windshield wipers; soup at a diner on the way.
We stayed a night at a friend’s log cabin. It was cold. An electric heater worked sporadically. But there was hot cocoa and a shot of tequila and a DVD and a book and plenty o’ blankets.
In the morning I walked around outside where the only sound was the lapping of the lake, the skittering of leaves, a dashing squirrel, a chirping bird. I get a little romantic about this time of year. But what child of the Northeast doesn’t?