When we first moved to the region known as the Upper Valley, we rented a house in the teensy, weensy town of Dorchester, population 300, give or take.
The house sat on 75 acres of land, and it had the best sledding hill in the backyard. It was quiet, powerfully quiet and dark out there.
One morning, the moon was full and starting to set when I ventured out to the end of the driveway to enjoy the sight. The quiet was more intense than usual, or so it seemed, and I swore I could hear the Earth spinning on her axis.