It's raining, it's pouring
...Mother Nature is roaring
“Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart.” —Haruki Murakami
We’ve had a lot of rain this summer in Vermont. A LOT of rain. In a single day, we had an entire month’s worth of rain, causing rivers to overflow and Montpelier, the state capital, to be so flooded, people were kayaking through Main Street.
Earlier that day I noticed that all five cows in our pasture were huddled together like a pile of puppies. I mentioned this to the dairy farmers and they said, “They know it’s gonna rain.”
Rain is one thing. Torrential flooding is another.
A few days before the sky fell down, our friends Anne and Drew came to visit from Berkeley (yes, Drew on Drew Road!). Among the places we visited was the glass-blowing factory at Simon Pearce. The building overlooks the beautiful Ottaquechee river, covered bridge and waterfall. We watched kids jump from the rocks into the river, then sun themselves on the banks. When we saw the Simon Pearce building on the news after the flood, the glassblowing area wasn’t even visible, and the waterfall was pumping so violently, it thrashed against the railing. The entire lower area, where the glassblowers normally work adjacent to 2500°F kilns, was completely inundated with water and debris, forcing it to close for at least the next several months.
The aftermath of the storm was dramatic and devastating. Roads were washed away, as were tons of crops, millions of dollars worth of merchandise from small business owners, most of whom can’t afford flood insurance. Thankfully aid is coming in, but you can’t rebuild or regrow instantly or even quickly. I’m grateful we are up the hill from the White River, and the only evidence of a leak I can find is a patch on the ceiling of my office that looks like a child’s shoeprint.
While Anne and Drew were here we visited two of Anne’s first cousins, brothers Dan and Andy. Dan’s son had recently traveled to various places in Central Asia and brought back some delicacies, including a popular snack called kurut. He asked if we wanted to try them. When asked what they were made of, he responded, “They’re dried, fermented horse milk balls.”
I watched everyone’s faces as they sampled them. No one gagged, so I thought what the heck. It’s just milk, right? Horse milk, yes, but still…milk. Imagine biting into a glob of dried Kraft macaroni & cheese powder. That’s pretty much the closest approximation of what it tasted like.
The other item we tasted was maple liquor. Sweet with a kick, it was an excellent way to rid my palette of lingering notes of horse milk.
At Anne’s cousin Andy’s in nearby Chelsea, we met his son’s girlfriend’s dog Ralph, a large, lively St. Bernard who loved to run into the pond to fetch his pet toucan. On the fridge was a remarkable list of all the birds they’d spotted on the property, from wild turkeys and barred owls to red-eyed vireos and yellow-rumped warblers — 55 different birds thus far.
One of our newfound favorite spots is the Old City Falls Nature Preserve in Strafford, about 15 minutes from us, including a 45'-foot waterfall. When we went there with Anne and Drew, we could climb all the way to the top. After the floods this month, the walkway to the top was completely submerged.
We did venture all the way up to Dog Mountain in St. Johnsbury this past month en route to Quebec City to celebrate our anniversary. Artist Stephen Huneck transformed the barn of his 150-acre property into a studio space, complete with remarkable sculptures, woodprints, paintings, furniture and decor, and even a dog-shaped water spout in the bathroom that dispenses water with a lift of its tail.
Huneck built Dog Chapel to honor our beloved canine companions, complete with stained glass windows, sculptures and a sign that reads, “Welcome all creeds, all breeds. No dogma.” Definitely a worthwhile visit for dog lovers.
While Quebec City is only four-and-a-half hours away, it feels far more European than North American. The fact that French is the primary language there influences the overall sense of being in a foreign country, as do the cobblestone streets, stone fortress, and quaint buildings in Old Town.
The first night we were in Quebec City we visited a restaurant called Bistro St. Malo. The special was all-you-can-eat mussels served with a choice of six different sauces. I’m not a big fan of digging stretchy, chewy bits out of shells but David is, so he ordered the mussels. Next to us were three people happily enjoying their first round of mussels, then their second, each piled high in generously sized metal pots. By the time we left, they were ordering a third pot each, accompanied by a fresh batch of hot, crispy fries. We departed wondering how these normal-sized humans could consume this sheer volume of seafood.
The next day we ventured to the farmers’ market, which was about 15 minutes away from the Old Town, to get more of a flavor of local living without the throngs of summer tourists. We happened upon a ceramics show, which included works by an artist whose initials are EG. I ended bringing a small bowl home.
While we didn’t encounter primo classic French pastries or tuck into a pile o’ poutine, David did sample a Montreal bagel with gravlax and cream cheese, and we both inhaled ruby-red strawberries from nearby Ile d’Orleans.
En route back, I finally saw a house with a “witch window.” Also known as coffin windows, crooked windows, lazy windows or Vermont windows, they are typically small windows tilted at a 45-degree angle to bring natural light to second story additions (and, of course, keep witches from flying on their broomsticks into their home).
With the nonstop rain this summer, we’ve been graced with continual blooms, a silver lining of this soggy season. I walked around the garden to photograph daylilies in shades of pink, orange, red, yellow and then strolled towards a Black-Eyed Susan, only to discover a rather sizable pink-and-white crab spider munching on a bee. These spiders can actually change color to blend in with the flowers.
David’s garden is beginning to bear fruit (or rather, vegetables), including sweet peas, sunflowers, broccoli, basil, lettuce, tomatoes and even potatoes! The previous owners planted a couple of tart cherry trees (which my friend told me are called Montmorency), which bore a few handfuls of bright red berries.
Brenda foraged both chanterelle and oyster mushrooms, and shared some with us, a rare treat. We, in turn, brought over some freshly-picked blueberries, which reminded me of the ones I picked with my dad as a kid while camping in Cape Cod many moons ago. We arrived the first day of picking, and the bushes were still ripening, with berries in shades of green, pink and purple.
En route to berry picking, David’s friend Jim noticed a painted turtle in the middle of the road. David turned the car around, and Jim quickly rescued the stranded critter. Yay for Jim! He spotted another one shortly thereafter, but it had already met its demise. I now understand the abundance of turtle crossing signs throughout Vermont.
Later that day we went to Burlington to see Billy Strings, whose rapid-fire flatpicking on the guitar was astonishing. He played with an all-string band, including an upright bass, mandolin, fiddle and another guitar, all incredibly talented musicians. How does he play so quickly and precisely while singing? I can barely remember all the words to a song let alone play a gazillion notes a minute. I highly recommend you see Billy Strings if he’s in your area. He’s crazy talented.
We’re down to three cows now, since Quartz and Queenie are at “beauty camp” for two weeks getting groomed and glamoured by two 4H girls. Adele, Quantum and Nutella are the remaining trio, and have become quite close. How close, you might ask? Not only do they groom one another, they also decided to take turns humping the other day. First Adele humped Quantum (who didn’t seem to mind), then Quantum humped Nutella, who was fine with it too.
“Did Quantum stand still when Adele humped her?” asked Amber the dairy farmer. “Yes. Nutella too,” I said. “That means they’re in heat,” she said.
Later that day, Amber arrived with a long metal rod and plastic gloves, and stuck the rod and her gloved arm far, far up to artificially inseminate her. We shall see if these humping hussies become preggers soon.
August 8 marks the first anniversary of being here in Tunbridge, Vermont. It’s been one year since we drove across the country in a 26-foot moving truck and arranged a lifetime of belongings into an 1800s farmhouse.
I still miss the proximity of family and friends. However, I am grateful we have a place of our own to call home, and for all the visitors who’ve made the effort to come this way.
I am also grateful to YOU for joining me along this wild, wayward adventure. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read these rambling missives.
My initial goal was to write this blog for one year, to share my experiences, my impressions, my perspective on rural Vermont living after being in the Bay Area for the last 30 years. Hard to believe twelve months have nearly passed.
Please let me know how you are and if you’d like to keep reading Green Mountain Acres.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Elisse
I just found you this morning. We bought our house here in SW Vermont, sight unseen, in 2020. It’s been a crazy 3+ years, and the adventure continues. I would love to keep reading!
Yes, keep writing! And get in a few pics of yourself…every once in a while! Love feeling close to you all through your blog!