Prospect Park. Fall.

I haven't been to Vermont yet, but Prospect Park was enough to blow my mind.
And remind me of almost every Robert Frost poem ever. Especially this one, which I attempt to pay homage to in one of the photos -

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth...