I lived in Vermont for a spell. You can't get nothing done by anyone during whitetail rifle season. Some idiot once scheduled a sheep farming seminar just across the river in NH on Opening Day. My dad went because he had given up hunting, the presenter wondered where everyone was from VT. My dad told him he should have checked the calendar.
1/2" snow there doesn't even qualify as a "dusting". "Ayup" and "nope" were acceptable responses for almost any question. "Flatlanders" were anyone from CT or MA. "New resident" was anyone whose great-grandparents weren't born in the state. The two southernmost counties were known as the "banana belt" because they didn't often get snow until mid-November. "Tain't" season was the time between after the leaves had fallen and the ski resorts opened up-- restaurants that were usually filled with tourists offered special pricing so the locals could afford to eat there.
Cutting maple syrup with anything, especially corn syrup, was a capital crime (or it should have been). Being seen buying Aunt Jemima imitation syrup in the store would brand you for life as a Flatlander, even if your ancestors fought with the Green Mountain Boys.
And all real Vermonters knew that the state had been an independent nation for much longer than those upstarts in Texas.
