Vermont is the most rural state in the nation. That doesn’t mean it is the emptiest, or the lowest population, but it does mean that the state is uniformly carpeted with small towns and villages. These towns are great places to live and raise a family (if you can deal with the long winter and the lifestyle associated with small towns).

Once a year the town we are in celebrates with a small fair on the green, between the library and the town offices. It’s a modest event, but everyone seems to drop in for a while. Under the big tent there are booths set up by the various civic organizations and local boosters: the Historical Society, the local church, the town Recreation program, a trails committee, a conservation organization, etc. There were bake sales and raffles, too.

Outside on the grass, Master Roh (who runs a local martial arts class), was organizing the kids in contests of high jumping, limbo, and other energy-burning activities. A guitarist was on the porch, playing and singing, while under another large tent the library was holding a huge book sale.

I wandered in, not expecting much, and came out with several books: something by Primo Levi about his post-holocaust experiences, two travelogues by Paul Theroux, “A Brief History of the Universe” by Steven Hawking, and “Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee” (which I’ve been wanting to read ever since we visited our first western national park). All for $5. Eleanor picked up a few Hercule Poirot mysteries too. Those are always good for trading at campgrounds, almost as good as cash.

The thunderstorms continue to rumble through regularly, but that’s fine since the weather has been mild and actually pleasant between downpours. The rain also helps combat the dropping of the local seagulls, which seem to have an affinity for our new orange car…

Sorry for the lack of photos lately. I’ve been recuperating from the International Rally, where I shot several hundred photos and walked around for two weeks with a camera around my neck most of the time. About 170 photos remain after the first culling, and with time I expect to get them down to about 100 worth keeping.

Since I have no photos yet from Vermont, here’s a bonus shot from last week at Museum of Aviation in Warner-Robins, GA. The headless man is Brett, investigating a compartment of what memory tells me is a B-52 bomber. If anyone cares to suggest a caption for this photo, please leave a comment!