Around noon is
when I start to think about it. That
first pint of Guiness. When my shirt is
sticking to the sweat that's pouring off of me.
My muscles ache with a dull pain.
I know will only increase as the day drags on and my head is pounding,
with the thud of the hammer and constant roar of the generator. That's when I first begin to smell the bitter
slightly chocolate aroma.
There's nothing like fall in New Hampshire. The picturesque landscape, the cool crisp air, the peaceful feeling you get inside. When I was young, my family would take its vacations in Lyme, New Hampshire. We would visit a farm my Aunt Billie and Uncle Charlie owned. It was a working farm at one time, however that was before I was born. Now there are only a few cows and chickens left. We would go up in the fall when the leaves start to change, and before the weather became bad. The farm was all rolling fields that seemed to go on forever. Just when you think that you couldn't go on any further you make it to the Connecticut River. The River divides New Hampshire and Vermont. It's a beautiful wide river gliding along strong and peacefully contradicted only by the erosion of its banks. The banks are set about seven feet above the water, as it dug itself securely into the earth. I never went swimmi...
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