On Saturday we walked a quarter mile on muddy roads through the falling snow to the tiny town hall of this tiny town (pop. 200) to see Bernie do his thing. The town hall was as full as I've ever seen, and perhaps as full as it's ever been; this photo does not do justice to the crowd. I guess it's no secret that Bernie has a relationship to this town, that he once lived here, in a lovingly restored old farmhouse directly across the narrow road from our driveway. He told some stories, made his pitch, and we escaped back into the night, to a party down the road in celebration of Guy Fawkes Day. Which somehow seemed appropriate.