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New Hampshire Interval Upon first visiting The Frost Place, Franconia, New Hampshire by Catherine Chandler
He'd just returned from England, heartened, heady; he thought he'd make a go of it he'd farm and write. This little house was full of charm: his Morris chair stood by the woodstove, ready. But woods and mountains intervened; they pined to cultivate the farmer's friendship, and he asked them in. For, though he turned the land, he turned to them when harrowed, undefined, as often was the case. He did not stay for very long the winters were too rough, and by the second year, he'd had enough: a summer place it would remain. Today, nine decades later, I can sense him still, tapping the frosted trees near Sugar Hill.
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