Each time I return to New Hampshire, I fall in love with it all over again. Sadly, however, my time here is coming to an end for this visit. Tomorrow I fly back to Washington and return to my non-holiday life. It had to happen sometime.

In last week’s post, I was all over the natural beauty of New Hampshire. There’s no doubt about it, the place is gorgeous. And while its pretty face is its best feature, it is simply the gateway to everything else that the state has on offer. At the top of that list is freedom. The state’s motto, Live Free or Die, is as meaningful to today’s residents as it was for those who lived here when New Hampshire became a state in search of a motto.

Don’t quote me on this, but I believe I read that New Hampshire was voted the #1 state for freedom on a recent quality-of-life survey. If true, it couldn’t happen to a nicer state. In addition to the live-free-or-diers who populate New Hampshire, there’s a whole group of liberty lovers moving here, if not in hordes, in a steady stream, to be among other freedom lovers. All of that movement is thanks to the Free State Project. You can read all about when the group formed and why, but in essence, a bunch of libertarians decided that New Hampshire would be a great place to create a liberty community. I was one of those libertarians and an early mover. We were a trickle at first, but 20 years later, the trickle is now a steady stream, except in summer, when the banks threaten to overflow.

It’s been good this week to mingle among free minds and spirits, if only for a wee pick me up. Sometimes it’s just nice to talk about Ron Paul.

You might be wondering if I love New Hampshire so much, then why did I leave?

It’s the cold. The kind of cold that goes right to the bone, which I find unbearable. It drove me away. I was reminded of such a couple of days ago, when the temperature dropped below freezing and hasn’t budged since. So cold that now, on my daily walk, I can see the ponds* have frozen over, like little skating rinks. While stopped to enjoy this little piece of nature, a stiff, frigid breeze blows through my coat and down my neck and goes right to my bones. Brrr.

That’s why I left. But no matter where my physical bones lead me, my heart always remains in New Hampshire.

*In the South, we call them swamps. In New Orleans, ponds are what form in the potholes when it rains.

For your listening pleasure today, Amos Lee …