August 27, 2010

The Green Mountain State

I realize that there seems to be a hefty gap in my writing for the period between North Carolina and Vermont – some one thousand miles driving time. The reason is that suddenly our journey became a high-speed race. We dipped into our Nations Capital for a couple of hours and scoped the National Mall (a must stop destination on a quest to see America), followed by a rapid conquering of the New Jersey Turnpike and a run in with rush hour traffic in Manhattan. We were originally going to stay in The Big Apple, but after the remarkable day of driving, we decided to press on and get our feet back into some grass and flip flops and out of tennis shoes and concrete sidewalks. We are still debating our return date to the big city. So it was decided – we were going to head strait to St. Johnsbury, Vermont to see some old friends from San Francisco and their new impressive family.


The second that we pass the border between Massachusetts and Vermont the world around us began to change. The Green Mountain State, as it is called, is a watercolor painting full of rolling hills, old wooden farm houses, white picket fences, and small towns that appear strait out of the fifties. Big white fluffy clouds are sprinkled like candy across the big blue background sky, and as we hug the turns of the highway we are more than satisfied with our decision to head north.

We rolled into St. Johnsbury on Tuesday afternoon and as the small town unfolds before us I look at Jarvis and ask him if this is some kind of joke. This, my friends, is an all American town and the quaintness of it all is far from any place that I have ever popped into.
We wind up the small town roads, passed old Victorian homes, and up to our friends home on the hill. I’m instantly overtaken with jealously when I lay eyes on their sweet lil’ home and their permaculture influenced garden. We are met by their beautiful fair-haired daughter, running barefoot laps around the garden with her flaxen locks blowing in the gentle breeze. Her dress is cute as a button and she gives us each a husk cherry (yummy) to taste. It takes her a day or two to grow familiarized with us strangers in her home, but after the daily warm-up we become friends. I might have roped her in with my jewelry collection which she grew quite fond of.

Ryan and Tara are old friends of Jarvis’ and we have a fabulous time catching up – I enjoy sitting back and listening to their nostalgic memories each evening as we sit in the yard and bathe in booze moonlight. We spent our daytime hours moseying around town (I had to sort through the local thrift stores because I’m on a hunt for some broken-in suede cowboy boots), riding bikes, and wandering around farmers markets.


I had my first experience with a blueberry patch where I got to pick, while eating mind you, a basket full of the best blueberries I have ever had. Our lovely hosts made homemade waffles topped with the garden-fresh berries and authentic Vermont syrup for breakfast. Not to mention bacon for dipping. Today, our last day in the Green Mountain State, we went to the Caledonia County Fair. I had the worst corndog ever and lost a few bucks in bingo, but nevertheless had a good time. This fair weighs heavier in the redneck/country factor than the ghetto thug state fair I attended in Albuquerque when I was young, but the beer garden helped to make the experience a bit more entertaining.

We are driving to meet Mikey and Samantha in Syracuse, New York in the morning and I CAN”T WAIT TO GET MY LAKE ON WITH THE HOMIES!!!

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