Now and then, it's also nice to go back to that kind of moment. In the last couple of years, I've become very fond of the Sanborn covered bridge in Lyndonville. It helps, of course, to know that the original bridge owner was a very, very distant cousin of mine (my mom would have been thrilled). But also I find the construction and the bridge's long life satisfying. My next novel (the first draft will start at the end of September) is set in Lyndonville, a mystery of course, and I may have to include the bridge as a symbol of how much easier it is to get along with "things" than with people!
Floods and age have taken a toll, and the bridge is under repair. (You can help save it -- click here.) Here are a couple of recent photos of it -- as well as a postcard that includes it, found by my intrepid researcher husband Dave. Do you think he can bear to share my love with the bridge? (Smile.)
