New England holds many fond memories for me, some of my
earliest, in fact. I’m not sure how old I was when my folks started taking
summer vacations in Vermont, but I know they had ended by the time I was 9,
replaced, for me, by summer months spent in sleep-away camp. Good memories as
well, but not quite as good as Vermont.
In my child’s mind we “spent the summer” in Vermont. The
reality I came to find out as an adult is that we rented a cabin for two weeks.
But when you’re a young child, two weeks can feel like an entire summer, when
days are long, spent on the beach and in the water or roaming the woods.
I did a lot of these things. I remember fishing with my
father, “Uncle” George and his son Jimmy. I remember scavenging for driftwood
and shells with my grandfather. I remember trails through the woods from one
cabin to another with our friends’ dog Skipper, the dalmatian, keeping an ever
watchful eye. My love of dogs was born in these summers; never had I known a
truer companion or better side kick.
New England kept a hold on me. I went to college in Boston,
and lived in Vermont as an adult for a brief period, in an old farmhouse that I
dearly loved. The imprint of farm landscapes, Lake Champlain and the
Adirondacks in the distance, church suppers and country auctions have made an
indelible mark on who I am.
I’ve returned many times – for the Brimfield Antiques
Markets, Fenway Park and the Red Sox, antiques shows in New Hampshire and
treasure hunting in Maine. Now there are new family memories being made in
Vermont, since our next generation has fallen in love with it as well and now
calls it home.
My heart is glad to return, ironically for those few weeks
in summer that began it all. And if we’ve timed our trip to allow for a visit
to the Brimfield Antiques Markets, well, let’s just say we planned well. A
visit there with more friends made over the years. No one could ask for a
better journey.
