“March was an unpredictable month when it was never clear what might happen. Warm days raised hopes until ice and grey skies shut over the town again.” —Tracy Chevalier
When I woke up this morning, I felt like I was living inside a snow globe. The way the snow fell in seemingly weightless, downy clumps, it looked like someone up yonder had a major pillow fight.
“I’d like to try to ski down the road,” said David, so we walked back home, got David’s skis in the car, and drove him to the top of the hill. I got back just in time to catch his adventure on video. Definitely a first…
This morning David tried plowing the drive with the snow blower that was recently repaired by the One-Legged Mechanic (the actual name of the business), but the snow was incredibly deep. Our neighbor Scott, whose family runs the organic dairy farm down the road, happened to be driving his tractor and offered to quickly plow the driveway. Another first.
David’s nothing if not adaptable, and has gone full Vermonter in recent months. An avid skier, he already has cold winter gear, but now he’s fully equipped with the following: Carhartt insulated overalls, steel-toed Lil’ Abner boots, a merino balaclava and wool base layers.
He signed up for a “Game of Logging” class (now with over 30 folks on the waiting list) to ensure that he knows how to cut down a tree without it falling on him. He’s also planning to help learn how to sugar, a verb in these parts, which means tapping the maple trees to begin the process of turning sap into syrup.
While walking Izzie up the road the other day a woman slowed down in her car long enough to let us know she needed to head back the other way. We figured she was lost. Turns out she was looking for our house (which is in need of a number sign).
“Oh. You’re the Gabriels? I have something for you,” she said, then pulled her car over to the side, parked, walked with us for a bit, then retrieved a handmade fabric bag. This “Welcome to Tunbridge” bag was filled with freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the Tunbridge General Store, a can of Upper Pass beer, a bag of First Branch coffee, and all kinds of information about the town, including local landmarks.
According to the Tunbridge Historical Society, there are 18 cemeteries, five covered bridges (including the Cilley Bridge, pronounced silly), four churches, a town hall, town library, elementary school, fire department, two town forests, an octagonal barn, of course, the “World Famous” Tunbridge Fairgrounds.
After being snowbound for a few days, we decided to get a change of scenery and ventured to the state capital of Montpelier to wander around, shop at Hunger Mountain Co-Op and work at a café. We ended up happening upon a rally for climate change, where activists of all ages brought homemade signs, including the two girls below.
Instead of going to a café, we ended up eating at the Hippie Chickpea, a tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant, where we dined on falafel and veggies and sampled Fire Cider, a tonic made with apple cider vinegar, cayenne pepper, horseradish, garlic, and ginger that was at turns sour, spicy and yes, very warming—best sipped not gulped.
After our meal, we happened upon some highly unappetizing offerings at the local pet shop, including dehyrdrated chicken heads and freeze-dried pig snouts.
I know that dog treats are inherently gross (when you learn what they’re actually made of), but I just can’t imagine feeding a severed head to my dog, especially when it has a very sharp beak. And no, thank you to snouts. I had a hard enough time giving Izzie a chicken’s foot. Plus, I just pet a pig on its snout. I couldn’t…
Okay, back to something more digestible: We discovered another new (to us) café in Woodstock called Abracadabra. Housed inside an old barn, coffee and pastries (including homemade Belgian waffles, cannalés and donuts) are served from a 1964 Shasta Trailer.
While sipping our locally-roasted, organic, microwbrewed coffee, David went on Facebook and found this posting by a local resident:
I posted my first Tunbridge Forum ad recently, asking about brush-hogging our pasture, a term I didn’t even know before we moved here. I received several recommendations, including one for a person described as “honest as the day is long.”
We went to see my college friend Peter Money play with his band last Saturday at an Irish pub in West Lebanon, about 30 minutes from here. Peter began by playing percussion, then moved onto strings, wind instruments, and spoken word poetry. We joked that next thing we knew, he’d be pulling out a saxophone, then an accordian, and who knows? Maybe a kazoo.
The following morning, we accompanied a woman named Reva to a special celebration of the Tibetan Buddhist New Year at Mangala Shri Bhuti, a beautiful practice center in Vershire. We listened to the Tibetan prayers while several people kept a huge bonfire going, adding aromatic branches, wine and food offerings as a way to cast away what no longer serves and welcome blessings for the coming year.
Reva took us inside the temple, which was impressive. One thousand cast-brass Buddhas flanked the stage like a rapt audience, each meticulously placed to face the massive, ornately carved Buddhas and religious offerings.
Tuesday was Town Meeting Day, a state public holiday where government offices, schools and businesses are officially closed.
“Vermont’s Town Meeting Day gives the state’s residents the chance to speak their minds in a public forum on the first Tuesday in March. This event is also the anniversary of Vermont’s admission to the union as the 14th state in 1791.”
I felt transported back in time. The person mediating the meeting, Israel (Izzy) Provoncha, conducted the votes via “yea” or “nay.” We were also handed bright green index cards to wave to indicate our vote, though I ended up using it to take notes and record quotes like, “This is democracy at its finest, community at its finest.”
Town officers took turns to quickly review their reports, discussing everything from the forthcoming chili cookoff at the library (inspired by the bestselling book series by Kylie Logan) to a generous posthumous donation to the cemetery commission. As the presenters spoke, some community members prepared lunch, while others collected raffle tickets, with prizes that included a homemade quilt and pecan pie.
Selectboard officers include John O’Brien, a sheep farmer and Harvard-educated film maker whose father was the first Democrat-elected state senator in the county since the Civil War, and Gary Mullen, known as the “Flying Farmer” among his stock car racing peers.
The surnames “Howe” and “Hoyt” appeared time and again in the Annual Report, both families having been here for nine generations. Both still have working farms, including the organic dairy farm down the road.
I left feeling like a stranger in a strange land, wondering if I’ll ever gain a sense of connection and community here. This town is tight-knit, intertwined, and forged through generations of families and farming. I’m definitely an outsider, an invasive species, someone who uses my hands to type rather than milk cows or tap syrup, make cheese or grow produce (though we do plan to plant a garden come spring).
While writing this, I felt a rumble, and heard a massive thud, causing a framed art piece to crash to the ground. No, it wasn’t an earthquake but rather an avalanche of snow melting off the roof. I glanced outside and noticed a bush, buried deep in snow, is beginning to grow buds. That’s March in Vermont. At least in 2023.
Thanks, as always, for reading and staying connected.
Until next time,
Elisse
Always so much fun to read these, Elisse! You have such a keen eye for details. You really make someone feel as if they are there with you.
So enjoy these updates from you, Elisse. You offer us such interesting details and wonderful photos of what you and a David are experiencing in a culturally different corner of our country. Love the story about the neighbor who happened to be passing by in his tractor and cleared your driveway. I’ll bet that kind of neighbor helping neighbor is what allowed early settlers to survive there centuries back. You may not be a Howe or Holt, but you are someone who gives much to others as well. In that regard I’ll also wager you will be a valued member of your community before too long.