I open my car door and step out into the sun of a new day on Mount Mansfield. There’s an urgent to-do list of tasks awaiting me, with a team to coordinate and nets to set up, but there’s something I need to do first. I breathe in. My lungs have been downland all week, full of the smells of a dirty car in summer, sweat and sunscreen in the garden, chicken poop on the porch steps, all the rich human and domestic odors that bloom in the heat of June. Mansfield air is something else entirely.