New England Bound in 11 Days

Anyone who reads my blog on a general basis can tell you right away that I'm a girl from New England; and I am proud of it. It's actually a little intense sometimes; my love for New England is strong and the way i talk about it can be a little too much. It's never been as pronounced as it has been in the last few years. I guess it came with moving across the country and being thrown into a mass mixture of people from all over the place and being one of the few East Coasters in this place, and one of the fewer New Englanders. Don't get me wrong, Idaho and the mid-west is beautiful and the West Coast is gorgeous as well. I've loved all of the places I've had the opportunity to visit. Norcal and the Sierra Nevadas and Lake Tahoe, Eastern Oregon through the Gorge and to the coast and across the river to Washington State. Utah and all of it's massive mountains, and Yellowstone with the steam rising over the hills and the Grand Tetons watching over Jackson Hole. All beautiful, all breath-taking, all wonderful and original and great.

But I'm a New England girl, born and raised. There is something about New England that just sets my soul on fire. Maybe it's the winding roads, maybe it's the Atlantic, maybe it's the 12 gorgeous miles of coast in New Hampshire, maybe it's the tall buildings of Boston, or the colors and smell of fall. Maybe it's the ever changing weather that keeps you on your toes; or the hardcore people who live there and who take nor'easters like it's a dusting of snow. Maybe it's the Appalachian Mountains, the Kancamangus highway, the way the sun sets over the marshes, the smell of New England seafood on the boardwalk on a warm August evening. Maybe it's the history. Maybe it's the Boston Tea Party, Plymouth Plantation, the U.S.S. Constitution, Bunker Hill and the 9th state to ratify the constitution. Maybe it's all of that and more. New Hampshire is where home is. And home is where the heart is.

January 3rd marks the last time I was home. And now it's May 1st and this marks the longest time I've been away from New Hampshire and while I thought I would be okay, to tell you the truth, I'm homesick. I miss my family, I miss my bed, I miss heavy New England accents, I miss the smell of spring and driving past the lake to go to my grandparents. I miss my friends, my home ward, and taking the long way to Juli's house.

I'll be home in 11 days for a mere fourish days for my best friends wedding. I can tell you that I'm already dreading leaving on the 16th. I am already counting down the days until I'll be able to go home in August for a bit of a longer stay. As happy as I am to be in Idaho for this semester, and to have a job and keep my car happy by not driving him back to NH and to be with my roommates and to go to Trish and Russell's wedding in three weeks, I miss my New England more then ever.

Anyway. In celebration of the fact of only 11 days left until I get to go home, I'm going to start a count down that involves 11 of my favorite things about New England/New Hampshire. And maybe you, my friend, will find a little bit of love for the place I call home.

#11-The White Mountains/The Old Man


New Hampshire is home to the White Mountains, part of the Appalachian Mountain range. It's about a two and a half hour drive north from my home town and it is beautiful.
Here are some pictures taken by my dad on the top of one of the ridges of the presidential range.

And then there is the Old Man of the Mountain. 

I have very vivid memories of driving up North when I was little (between the ages of 6-12) during late August to Living Waters Campground nestled on the Ammonustic River in the heart of the white mountains. In order to get to the campground, we would have to drive through Franconia Notch, where interstate 93 weaves between two massive mountains, Cannon Mountain on the left and Mt. Franklin on the right. The best part of this drive was watching as Cannon Mountain drew nearer and nearer. As you approached it, it looked like a massive sheet of rock rising up in the air. Nothing too spectacular, just a massive mountain. But if you kept your eye on the mountain as you rounded the corner and looked back over your shoulder, and waited patiently while the butterflies filled your stomach as you waited for the car to round the last part of the bend, there he was. The Old Man of the Mountain, looking over the notch, defined and proud and majestic. You couldn't miss it, and you couldn't help but smile every time you drove through the notch and looked over your shoulder. 

Yet, as Mother Nature does with most things it creates, it took The Old Man away a few years ago.

Yet, The Old Man still stands as a proud symbol for the great state of New Hampshire.

Below is a tribute to the Old Man! Enjoy!