Come Join Me: A weekend in Vermont

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The farmhouse was built in 1796. My friend and her husband mustered up considerable courage, bought it and the land, and moved to very rural Vermont two years ago, after many years of living in a three room condo in the upscale south end of Boston.

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It was a lifestyle change of giant magnitude for them.

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The nearest sizable town, which is to say it has a Main Street with a coffee shop and other storefronts, is 20 minutes away. My friends have been greatly welcomed by their neighbors, one of which supplied the pork ribs we grilled for dinner, provided from his now decreased pig (I couldn't bare to wonder if the pig had a name.)

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Throughout the course of the weekend, we had farm fresh eggs, farm fresh yogurt, cheese, ice cream, which we bought directly from Robie Farm. We had home baked bread and fresh strawberries and Vermont bacon.

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Eight acres

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a front yard garden
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no reason to wear shoes

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time for three Big Yellow friends to sit

in a coffee shop

most of the morning

and write and read aloud together
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time to admire the art of watercolors

(check out the website of Mark Neilsen),
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the colors of the local farmstands

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time to cook together and eat together

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to watch birds and play with cats,

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to color, hide, seek and giggle with two great kids,

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to enjoy the rhythm of friends

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and remember how deep and sweet love can be
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to let yourself be astonished

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by simple sights
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to walk the land
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relax

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do cartwheels

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follow the cut grass at dusk
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until you see the light again

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and in the end,

effortlessly say thank you

for the times that remind and replenish

everything good.

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(and when I arrived home

I was greeted by a friend

so dear.

She gets embarrassed sometimes

when I gush over her,

she who watched over my dog Stella

and my homestead;

she who I hope will

grant me the privilege of

being her friend for a goodly

lifetime)

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love

kj