Dear Editor,
Having lived in New England all my life, I’ve taken ownership of my roots so to speak. One does not choose their place of birth or the locale they are raised, but does choose their lifelong residence. I chose New Hampshire!
Here, the seasons are pronounced literally as well as figuratively. As we know, winter in northern New England is no trivial matter. It’s literal, to the law, and, well, pronounced. A figurative approach is its flow and ebbing well into April; not at all unlike my love affair with all things modern. Not too surprisingly, sooner or later I tire of the over abundant choices and interest ebbs like the tidal shift of snow below my driveway.
I am not a philosopher of the caliber of Plato, or my grandmothers for that matter, but I do know right from wrong. I also know what truly matters in life; hard work pays, a kind word goes a long way, and luck is a product of the two. Is this an outdated concept?
Ah heck, it’s probably just me.
Sincerely,
Coppice Thicket
Alstead, N.H.