That heart isn't black because it's edgy. It's black because that's the color your soul turns somewhere around the fourth month of winter, when the snowbanks are taller than your car and "mud season" shows up like an uninvited roommate. You love it here. You just love it the way you love a wood stove that only works if you yell at it.
Vermont is maple syrup on everything, dirt roads with no names, leaf peepers clogging the two-lane in October, more cows than opinions, and a highway with zero billboards because nobody needs to be sold anything except firewood. This is affection for people who say "it builds character" and mean it. Dark, frosty, fiercely loyal love.
Built from soft, substantial fabric that holds its shape through stacking wood, standing in line for cider doughnuts, and surviving yet another April snow squall. The print stays sharp wash after wash, so your emotional damage looks crisp for years.
