Things are not always as one expects. Vermont's Northeast Kingdom is harsh. I grew up in the hills of Hardwick, not too far from the great territory of Canada, right in the middle of the Kingdom's callused beauty. The land is more ferocious than the humans who try to tame it. It's just not common in this place.
Poverty is prevalent.
White trailers sit sunk in dirty snow with pinkish insulation blocking rusted windows and doors to keep the howling wind out. The trailers look like over-stuffed marshmallows with billows of gray smoke pumping out into the frosty air. This time of year, around Christmas, a lone tree stuck in the middle of the lawn is often haphazardly draped with large, gaudy, rainbow- colored lights, and the plow comes through around 5 a.m. with a splash of salt and dirt from the road, coating everything within range. Every spring, when the ice frees up and the snow melts, we fear the raging waters of the Lamoille River. The river is so strong that Army engineers mount floodlights on granite slabs and place them high in the trees.