Oil painted en plein air at Musterfield Farm in North Sutton, NH, by Janie Snowden
Welcome to “Dear Daybreak”, a weekly Daybreak column. It features short vignettes about life in the Upper Valley: an encounter, a wry exchange, a poem or anecdote or reflection… Anything that happened in this region or relates to it and that might strike us all as interesting or funny or poignant.
Want to submit your own Dear Daybreak item? Just go here!
Dear Daybreak:
It was a dark evening. There was at least a foot of snow on the ground, and more was falling fast. I was driving home to Thetford from Hanover, and as I approached the interstate entrance I saw a figure holding out his thumb looking for a ride.
Before I was a mother of four, I sometimes hitchhiked, but I had not picked up a hitchhiker for many years and I hesitated—but it was snowing and it was the Upper Valley, so I pulled over and invited him in. As he folded his large frame into the passenger seat I couldn’t see his face, hidden as it was by his big beard, covered with ice. A little voice inside me asked, “Have I made a mistake?” but when I asked where he was going and he said Thetford, I told him I was going there too.
His destination was up a long hill pretty far into Thetford. I told him I could only get him to Thetford Hill, and he said that was just fine. We drove slowly through the snow, and it seemed I was the only car on the road. I continued to feel anxious as he was so quiet, but then in a deep voice he said, “You don’t know me, do you, Mrs. Cole?”
Surprised, I replied, “No, I don’t.” His answer? “You taught me to ski.” What a completely unexpected and wonderful outcome! For 40 years I have coached little kids at the Dartmouth Skiway (thanks to the Thetford and Lyme schools, which offer a learn-to-ski option staffed by volunteers on mid-winter school days). After that we chatted away, and while I couldn’t take him all the way to the top of Pero Hill, I did get him to the bottom.
— Liz Ryan Cole, Thetford
Dear Daybreak:
The Norwich Inn reception area greets weary travelers with a mini Upper Valley.
— Don McCabe, Norwich
Dear Daybreak:
The first week of December is (or was) a special time. Spaghetti time.
In 2021, my partner and I rescued a stray cat from outside right when the temperatures started to really plummet. We named him Spaghetti because our other two cats have food-related names, and he was orange and goofy and one of his front legs was injured so we called it his noodle. He needed an amputation and thanks to the kindness of people where we lived at the time, we were able to make it happen.
He was supposed to be spayed and returned, but was too friendly to release so he was became a foster—but his amputation recovery took so long that we became attached and he became a foster fail. Then in 2023 we moved to the Upper Valley, downsizing our living space in the process, and he could not get along with our other two cats.
So in the summer of 2024, we made the very difficult decision to put him up for adoption through a local shelter, and I am grateful that he was adopted at lightning speed. If we'd put him in one of the overcrowded shelters where we used to live, he would not have made it out. I like to think that the Upper Valley is his forever home, even if he isn't with me anymore and goes by a different name. I'll always think of Spaghetti, especially during the first week of December, and I hope he's enjoying his second Upper Valley winter. Thanks for giving him a new home!
— Jamie Vander Clute, South Royalton
Did you miss last week’s Dear Daybreak? You’ll find it here.
