I moved from Massachusetts to Colorado in August, 1978. The following writing is from a letter written to my eldest brother, Joe (who was living in Troy, NY), in the early spring of ‘79. At the present time in my life, stumbling across a copy of this writing I feel is an important indication of questions I now face. It shows that the present longings and sense of “home” that I have now, were in place already in this much earlier time.
“… For a while, it was 50-60 degree temperatures every day, and everything was drying and greening up. But, I guess this is Colorado spring. I got snowed-in, in Wyoming, two weekends ago. I rode up on Saturday, in the log truck, for a normal one day trip to bring down a load of logs. But, we rolled the truck (a minor accident, if you can believe that) and had to stay overnight. As it turned out, it started snowing at 10 o’clock that night, and it didn’t quit until early Monday morning. That’s the first time I was ever snowed-in anywhere. Truly an interesting experience. Something to tell my grandchildren.
I’ve been thinking, of late, as to how long I’m going to stay here. I miss the lakes, the hardwoods, the sea being so close. I miss the smell of the crisp Autumn air, the colors and crunching leaves underfoot. I miss the rattle of the beech leaves and the popping and cracking of the great hardwood stems, in the frosty winter wind, as it rushes through the pines and sends the hardwood branches clattering agin one another. I miss the smells of the wood in the Spring, the cherry and the oaks sending out their fine green colors and the array of tastes in the air from the yellow and black birch, cherry, pines, spruces, hardwoods, and all blended like the finest of cool, refreshing drinks. I miss the drenching summer rains, as they bring a stalled wood to a continuance in its growth cycle, drinking in the sustenance that it requires for a happy life.
Give my regards to Broadway,
Pete”
Peter J Quandt