Green Means Go

Though I live and work in Vermont in the Northern Winter and in Wanaka, New Zealand in the Southern Winter, my home is in a very small town in the remote Northwest corner of Connecticut.

Often during the winter in VT, people will ask where I'm from and, upon hearing that I'm from Connecticut, they will conjure images of the wealthy, crowded suburbs of New York City that line the Connecticut shoreline abutting the Long Island Sound. People are amazed when I explain that there are mountains in Connecticut, that there is no highway where I live, no chain stores, strip malls or even traffic lights. While a large number of wealthy New Yorkers do have second homes in the area, there are enough working farms to keep all of us honest, and we're far enough away and hard enough to get to that our town remains relatively unspoiled. What amazes people the most is when I tell them that it's greener here than even Vermont, that when the leaves are finally full in Spring it's so green here it almost hurts the eyes.

"The Berkshires?", you may ask, "Really?" It is precisely this 'off-the-radar' aspect of being here that brings me such peace of mind. It provides a distinct lack of pretension and an ease to our existence, along with the confidence that we can continue doing what we do, at our pace, with our people, without pressure.

Right now, in early June, the ancient oaks that so dominate our woodlands are finally in their deepest green sartorial splendor. On long rides through the winding country roads that ring the river valleys and ribbon the hillsides, my bike fitness is now at the point where I can enjoy the place without the aches and pains of early season. One more month and I'll really be able to pour it on ... except I don't have another month. At precisely the moment when things are at their most spectacular here, once again I will be departing for another winter on the other side of the planet. I've said it before and I'll say it now: it's not that I don't like summer, it's that I willingly sacrifice it to explore my passion for and pursue my career in alpine skiing.

Panglossian rants aside, at least the parting mental images I have of my home here will be of the countryside at it's peak of green as I love it best. For me, once again, green means go. I'll continue to report in from winter in the Southern Alps of New Zealand, and I'm sure it'll be yet another terrific season there. I will occasionally, however, day dream of greener, warmer pastures, and think of home.