This article originally appeared in Pioneer Magazine in July, 2013.

Scaffolding surrounds the exterior of the house at 563 Bay Rd. in Amherst. It seems like the maintenance is ongoing, a sobering reminder of the perpetual necessity of upkeep.

Gray skies hung over potholes filled with yesterday’s rain. The pavement was damp in the shade. A steady wind chill was blowing off the Charles. Commonwealth Ave was a mess — trucks, buses, potholes, the bike lane turned sand trap. Something new: a massive steel…

Commuters crowded the streetcar platform, wrapped in scarves. They all looked in the same direction. Everybody has someplace to be. A red glove waved in the street, pummeled by the cold air of passing cars. A box truck idled in the bike lane on the bridge over…

The world was still when I left my apartment. No cars, no people, no birds hanging overhead. It was like everyone had left the planet and I had missed the departure. I was bundled up against the cold. 24*F. I pulled a tube scarf over my face and my…

The roads had that bright, bleached look of early winter, before everything’s frozen over. The sun, already way up there when I left for work, late again, glared hard off the road and the parked cars. They’re still tearing up Comm Ave. Signs blinked…

For Melody Joy Kramer’s newsletter, I reached out to a friend to answer questions about how vermonters get their news:

Who are you and what do you do?
My name is Alison. I’m a high school English teacher at an independent school in Vermont.