Welcome

Having journeyed far from the faithful and familiar who surrounded us in our youth, I intend to make good on my many promises to stay in touch. Since childhood I've desired a life outside Dallas' burgeoning 'burbs. Because of this, my estimation of this world beyond is tinged with the painfully romantic light of adolescent longing. Reader beware.

In the spring of 2019, C and I stopped off at Wingman Brothers Smoke House in Marble Falls. Our windshield time up to that point had been filled with lazy conjecture about moving to New England. I set my plate of sliced brisket across from C's smoked chicken and scanned the license plates that shingled the walls. Immediately to my left, surrounded by a grid of Texas plates, I saw a foreign plate with tiny flecks of rust pushing against the verdant surface. I joked to C: "Well that settles it. Vermont it is."

Well, here we are.

As C and I venture forward, I want to keep you all informed, not so much of the facts of our life together but rather our experience of it. I eagerly anticipate the joys and challenges of living in Vermont, and at the same time I want to honor my birthplace Texas. So to unify the two, and as an homage to the great Texan raconteur W. F. Strong:

These are stories from Vermont.

Some of them are true.

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