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I come downstairs to a perfectly steeped cup of hot tea, decaf with just the right amount of my neighbor’s sweet honey and a slice of fresh squeezed lemon. My wonderful husband has it down to perfection. Beside it sits half a multi-grain English muffin with cream cheese on it burned, just the way I like it. I dive into the morning routine with my usual flurry while my husband, James, plugs along, still asleep on his feet. It is a good thing nothing unusual goes on during this time. He truly does not function beyond auto pilot until that first cup of coffee has kicked in. The polar opposite of me, who is wide awake and ready for all that the world may send my way within the first couple fo steps I take.

With the two lunches made and breakfast now warming my stomach and fueling my body, I start getting dressed for the morning walk. The dogs hear me put on my jacket and they run to the mud room full of excitement. There is no need to call them. They know exactly what that sound means. I strap on the three leashes, put on my backpack with its 20 pounds in it, and we are off.

I head east up the dirt road and soak in the physical beauty of my surroundings. The view never gets old. I gaze upon the spine of the Green Mountains from Camel’s Hump south to Mount Abe and our presidential mountains. The dogs run about smelling all there is for them to smell. I often wonder does it really change that much from day to day? Only they know the answer and they are not telling. We arrive at the turnaround point and I call out, ``This way.’’ Mollie, Happy and Smiley stop dead in their tracks and look. I sweep my arm in an arc and they all come running like something exciting must have happened since our last passing only a few moments ago. Oh, to be a dog, happy just to walk, be fed and be loved.

I am walking west now with the splendor of the High Peaks of the Adirondacks creating a visual feast for my eyes. The reverse sunrise has painted the peaks rose with its beautiful soft light. There is Giant and Dix, with their vast rock escarpments and all their neighbors slowly changing hues from rose to gold as the sun moves closer to the horizon. The New Yorkers do say, ``The only thing you Vermonters have over us is a better view of our mountains.’’ I’ll take it!

Soon, I shall hear it. The silver Subaru wagon will be heading my way. When it approaches, I round up the dogs. Mollie sits obediently and the other two stand and stay waiting patiently for my signal to be off again. I always wonder about the friendly man and his son. Where do they go every weekday? What brings them down this seldom traveled road? I look forward to our brief encounter every time. Without fail, he has a broad grin and an enthusiastic wave, this stranger in the silver Subaru wagon. I do my best to return the morning greeting with equal enthusiasm and cheer.

Once again the thought enters my mind. Gee, it is too bad I have to live here in Vermont with its beautiful diverse physical surroundings, the mountains, the rivers and ponds, and last but not least, Lake Champlain. Vermont offers up endless outdoor fun all at one’s doorstep. But really, I live hear because of the people. People like my neighbors and friends, whom I call upon for an outdoor adventure or a cup of sugar at any time of day. People like the stranger in the silver Subaru wagon who greets me so warmly every weekday morning. This is my chosen place for home. My Vermont.

Dianne Leary
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As I came over the top of Lake Hill Road this afternoon and caught the post card view for the umpteenth time, I felt a philosophical urge coming on. I became focused on the subject of living out boyhood dreams and how my daily commune with nature is a priceless gift that was truly just a fantasy of my teenage years until retirement set in. As I reached adulthood I almost let go of those Walden Pond illusions, because after all they’re just for the very eccentric – or are they? Happily, I am discovering that a life with no TV, a newspaper about once a week, but ample human contact with fellow lake dwellers and small town folk has rekindled the youthful desire to get back to nature and live a more simplistic life. Great satisfaction derives from taking a few saplings and weaving them into a Swiss Family Robinson style fence to keep dogs out of the flower garden. Using the local native slate to construct walls and other landscaping features has become a wonderful diversion from past regimens knows as modern day living. And, what great satisfaction comes from picking pounds of strawberries and bags of apples and making them into jelly and sauce. Those primeval urges of the hunter and gatherer are amply served through such activity. While outdoor cooking is only a sometime thing, I have taken to cooking over a wood fire in preference to charcoal or propane grills. That 20th century paraphernalia just gets you to thinking about nothing but the 21st century!

It was probably a combination of some good Boy Scout leaders and an early proclivity to wanderlust that led me to look to the hills, the woods and lakes at an early age to frame my fantasy. However, one very compelling reason that brought me to savor the kind of unique setting in which I now find myself has a lot to do with what I call the Buck Street hill syndrome. In my hometown in southern New Jersey, just 30 miles west of Atlantic City, the landscape was dominated with scrub oaks and pines rooted into the sandy plains that were a source of silicon for the glass industry. There was little change in elevation with only an occasional rolling hill. In the 1930’s and ‘40’s, when I was a kid, soap box derbies were a popular activity conducted by communities to challenge the inventiveness of boys (and their fathers) to make a race car propelled by gravity alone. Probably the biggest challenge of all was to find a hill worthy of this event. The best they could do in Millville, New Jersey, was to use Buck Street hill which had a change in grade of only 20 feet over a distance of approximately two city blocks. For the better part of a day this otherwise busy thoroughfare was cordoned off from traffic and the young racers had their way.

Harry, Poultney
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There seem to be an awful lot of SUV’s and pickups with For Sale signs on people’s front lawns lately. There are acres and acres of them at new car dealer’s and used car lots. Not everyone in Vermont can afford to buy a new Prius or Honda. Used cars from the existing, not terribly fuel efficient, stock will remain the only option for many people. If people lived closer together there would be some hope, but very little affordable housing is being built in downtown areas. I suspect that Vermont will de-populate fairly quickly, with the smallest towns leading the way.

Home heating may become impossible for most people. I live in a small, fairly well insulated house. I heat with oil. During the coldest six months of the year I burn about 175 gallons of oil a month. During the other six months, I burn an additional 350 gallons, mostly for hot water. If fuel oil goes to $10 or $15 dollars a gallon, I will end up spending $14,000 to $21,000 a year. I can’t afford this, and I don’t know too many people who can. Of course, there is always wood heat. A lot more wood will be burnt in Vermont homes and businesses, in addition to what will be used to run wood-fired power plants (see below). This may lead to some significant deforestation, and will certainly lead to dirtier air. Wood doesn’t work very well in the more built up areas, and the thought of installing wood stoves in a lot of Vermont’s existing housing and commercial buildings is pretty scary. Wood prices will rise to keep pace with oil prices. Cutting, splitting and transporting wood is fairly energy intensive in its own right, and the simple application of supply and demand will drive prices up further still.

Electric energy is going to problematic as well. Politics in Vermont will prevent the construc-tion of anything in the way of power plants that produce large amounts of cheap electricity – a second nuclear reactor or a coal-fired plant, for instance. Wind really isn’t too practical, and so-lar advocates seem not to have noticed that the sun doesn’t shine too often during Vermont’s peak energy season.

There is a brilliant move afoot to shut down Vermont Yankee within four years, removing a source of four cent per kilowatt hour electricity from our power grid. Alternative energy sources should play to a region’s strength. Large solar arrays make sense in the southwest deserts. Wind farms work in the plains states and along the coast. Unlike Tennessee or the Pacific Northwest, Vermont lacks the big river basins needed for large scale hydro. Also, the days of building large scale hydro projects in the United States are over. We are one of the most forested states in the country. Large scale wood-fired plants seem to make sense. If new plants are built, let’s hope that the mistakes of the McNeil plant in Burling-ton will not be repeated. You don’t build a wood burning plant forty miles from the source of its fuel and bring it in by truck. Rather you build in the woods and ship the plant’s output to the con-sumer via copper wire.

Farming is going to get harder and harder with higher energy prices. One salvation might be a large scale conversion to biofuel production, but to make this work economically, the actual production of the fuel should occur fairly close to where the feedstock is grown. Also we’re talk-ing about very big farms, and Vermont is not really set up for this scale of agriculture. Possible, but not too likely. Conservation has had little real world effect on electric demand in most places. In Vermont, demand might actually decrease somewhat as the state depopulates and large scale energy users close up shop and head for warmer climes. This is not a terribly cheerful prospect.

What kind of jobs will be left in Vermont? Even before the current energy crisis and reces-sion, younger people were leaving Vermont. The net population of Vermont has still been in-creasing, primarily due to the influx of older retirees from other northeastern states. If this trend continues, there will be plenty of jobs for health care workers and attendants at assisted living facilities and nursing homes. I don’t see too many other growth areas. Many people would like to see Vermont become a leader in high tech, non-polluting, alterna-tive energy development and production. Forty-nine other states would like to grow this way as well. Many are better positioned than Vermont.

There are some decent schools in Vermont, but there aren’t too many MIT’s, Cal Techs, Berkelys, Stanfords or Carnegie Mellons around here. Making alternative energy (both the hardware that produces it and the actual energy itself) is going to require some serious industrial capacity. Vermont has not been terribly receptive to large industrial growth projects during the last thirty years, and the state’s location away from major ports, railroad lines and transcontinental highways puts it at a competitive disadvantage.

So what is Vermont going to look like? It will probably be a less populated, colder, older, and poorer state with fewer farms and small towns. The air will be dirtier, the tax base will shrink, and the whole state will get shabbier. On the other hand, everything might turn out just fine. The price of fuel may fall back to $2.00 a gallon, lots of bright and well educated young people may move here, global warming may turn Vermont into the new Florida, and a new cheap and clean energy source might be dis-covered. At about the same time, my Prozac will kick in and I’ll feel much better.

Larry Rogers Brandon
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Yet that moment turned out to be emblematic of my nearly forty-two years of living in the same house for forty of those years, teaching in UVM’s English Department for thirty-four years, raising a family in a generous and strong community, and becoming a part of a state that involves its citizens in decision making from the local to the state levels. We have the advantage of knowing those of all political persuasions and parties (and we have a vibrant spectrum of both), almost always meeting and talking to those we are considering supporting for office. And, on occasion, I have voted for Republicans in this state of towering figures like George Aiken.

Our children have turned into aware and informed citizens because, in Vermont, the political was often the personal, something I was reminded of recently when my son, his family and I found ourselves seated next to former Governor Kunin at a Flynn performance. As soon as lights went up for intermission, my son, having only returned that fall to live and work in Vermont, rose with his teen agers to speak to Kunin and introduce his son and daughter to her, explaining to them how important her service to Vermont has been and how important it was to his own political development to have known her.

Through the years we, like hosts of Vermonters around the state, opened our home to political gatherings, often fund raisers but even more importantly, informational forums with lively exchanges as candidates for town and state offices answered substantive questions from people with names and faces they would be accountable to if elected to office. Some of us have seen friends and neighbors run as our representatives to the legislature. Many of us solidified our support for candidates during these evenings.
Another significant aspect of Vermont’s political landscape is the self-governing process so many of us have participated in, whether it be serving on local school and library boards, town select or zoning boards or boards of civil authority (elected by our townspeople) or the crucial November and March Tuesdays where many of us volunteer to keep things running smoothly at the polls. Even though many worry about the health of March town meeting, this institution remains central to our political life. This hands-on experience makes us into citizens who have a stake in what happens. Democracy has always seemed alive and well in Vermont.

I never fully appreciated the importance of this ongoing participatory democracy until I had the privilege of teaching students in 1998 at the University of Fort Hare in Alice, South Africa, a prominent traditionally black university graduating Bishop Tutu, Nelson Mandela, and Steve Biko among many other outstanding leaders. It had not been long since the freeing of Mandela and the election of the ANC as the ruling party. The fledgling democracy was in its earliest days. I met people who distrusted government even when it was their own elected government. All around South Africa, its black citizens were learning, sometimes painfully, how to run things from the local to the national levels. As I observed their hard work, I realized how we take for granted the daily workings of a democratic society that comes from an active citizenry—and how much we must learn to become responsible citizens.

Our first across-the-street neighbors were conservative Republicans who invited us to see a John Birch Society film, thinking surely we were of that persuasion. Good neighbors with daughters who became valued babysitters, they eventually sold the house to the Lacey Symington family with young children and a new baby on the way. It wasn’t long before a “Bernie” sign graced their yard and we were invited to a fundraising supper to get to know Bernie Sanders who was running for his first House seat. And now that neighbor has become actively engaged in the state’s political scene, offering many of us once again the opportunity to be a part of Vermont’s political landscape, as vibrant in its way as our storied physical landscape.

Mary Jane, Burlington
Posted by VPR Online Producer, Tim Johnson]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1197815 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1197815 GMT I'm often greeted by mysterious screeching sounds that emanate from the belfry of the courthouse. I only recently learned of the species that makes these sounds.

Another thing they don't show on the postcards is the small commuter bus I take to Lyndon State College. The morning driver claims I look like Jim Douglas. Occasionally when I board he greets me by saying, "moanin'guvna!" Once he even clipped a photo of Douglas out of the newspaper, just to prove the resemblance. I can't see it, but nonetheless feel esteemed to occasionally be called the governor.

On a recent bus trip, another rider had left behind a copy of the local newspaper. Inset into one of the cover stories was an enlarged quotation. It said, "If you've ever swum butt naked in that cold water, it's absolutely wonderful." Digging a little deeper, I learned that there's a big debate raging about a nude beach up at Lake Willoughby. Never saw a postcard for that one either.

I have a friend back in Michigan who continually asks me if I've seen a moose yet. I was finally able to give her an affirmative answer after visiting the Fairbanks Museum and seeing the taxidermied moose that is displayed there. She informed me that such a moose sighting "doesn't count."

As I was leaving the museum that day I met the museum's director. I thought he might know the answer to a nagging question: "Do you know what kind of bird makes the screeching noises that come from the courthouse?" I asked. "It's a recording," he replied. "The screeching sounds keep the pigeons away." What a cool answer. Every time I think I have a line on what My Vermont is, it turns into something else.

Lawrence, St Johnsbury
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Fast forward a few years and we were indeed finally settled in the small town of Cavendish, Vermont, population of 1500 or so. For reasons that are clear to me, and a mystery to my kids, I love the fact that we live on a winding dirt road far from our small town center and that my only neighbors can be glimpsed when the leaves are gone and if you stand on tippy toes on the deck and squint. You can breathe here!

When it comes down to it, it's not so much what my Vermont is, but rather what my Vermont is not, that is so extraordinary. My Vermont is not a succession of exit ramps that pass for towns with a strip mall and a subdivision off a super highway instead of a town green. My Vermont is not excited about where the closest mall is. My Vermont does not allow billboards.

My Vermont does not lay down the red carpet for big business to raze farmland and put up industrial parks. My Vermont does not have a fast food joint on every corner or even in every town. My Vermont still has its soul and has not sold itself to the highest bidder.

Yes, the nearest movie Cineplex is an hour away. And yes, doing the big shop for groceries is a planned event. And yes, dry-cleaning has become a four-step process. But I wouldn't give up those small inconveniences for anything. I've seen what convenience brings, and trust me (those of you who have lived here all your life), we are all better off without it. So instead of working for a high-powered advertising agency, I started my own not so high-powered version. My financial planner husband now has his own small branch. Because I think what my Vermont is, more than anything, is a place that inspires you to be better than you thought you could be and welcomes you to make your own way. You know, how people were meant to live.

Sharon, Cavendish
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I moved back after Graduate school in California in 2002 because quality of life, the natural beauty and the mountain biking and Vermont community, however, I was naive regarding how underdeveloped the professional job market and communication technology is in this state. Now after 6 years, I realize the depth of this. My view of truth about Vermont is that it has a excellent quality of life, its people/my people are industrious, well educated, intelligent, clever, tenacious, and hard working.

We as Vermonters all know this, but we have done our best to hid this from the rest of the nation. By this I mean our indirect/direct marketing and general out word message of Vermont, has been one of quaint outdated nostalgia. We welcome being the history museum/retirement home for the United States. “Come to Vermont and see the backwards Vermonters struggle to make ends meet”, “aren’t they cute, I’ll take three of them, and that farm on the hill”.

This economic dependency on nostalgia that has served Vermont in the past, is now it’s the virtual brick tied to our collective ankles as we try to swim in our current century. To quote a friend, “Vermont is suffering from “death by nostalgia”. His meaning being, Vermont has flogged, it’s nostalgia cache so long, the market changed and now is what hurts us economically. I have learned from speaking with hospitality professionals, business owners and freelancers that the general message that Vermont has created is a New England version of “Disneyland”. Our Disneyland does not match the truth of who we are as Vermonters.

We have abandoned the “Authentic Vermont” in favor of the lazy and uncreative harvesting of low hanging fruit of nostalgia. People can go do Disney land to get lied to, but the folks I have talked with that come Vermont want an authenticity, not kitsch. We put little effort into selling the authenticity of our landscapes, history, culture, work force, quality of life and professionals. We fabricate what we wrongfully imagine what the rest of the world wants to see.

If you are a business professional outside of hospitality, skiing and specialty foods, the Vermont Cache is a liability. Tell some one you work in high tech and theirs eyes light up. Then then say you work in Vermont, and its like saying your not a serious professional.

Andrew, West Berlin
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I escaped here from New York City in 1975, and one of my first friends was Larry - an old farmer who lived across the road. He was a fourth-generation Vermonter with a mischievous twinkle in his sky-blue eyes and a dry country wit. He could fix absolutely anything and, to an ex-city boy, Larry was a revelation in practical wisdom, experience and common sense. Politically, though, we were at opposite extremes, as the old and the young often are.

In those days, around the time of our nation’s bicentennial, “Love it or leave it” was a popular slogan of the right. The words, printed boldly below an image of our unfurled flag, seemed to be everywhere and, every time I saw the phrase in a window or on the bumper of a car, its terse, self-righteous dispensation bothered me. One night, I brought it up to my conservative friend, curious on his take. Larry ran his fingers through his snow-white hair, and gave me a wry smile. “You know”, he said, using his favorite expression - “I think it’s kind-a-ridiculous.” And then he reminded me that it was a reaction to precisely that way of thinking that gave birth to our country in the first place, and that it was therefore perfectly un-American! We found common ground on other issues as well - though not always - and grew to be close friends. Larry died a few years later, in the early eighties, but I still think of him fondly, and often, as his was an original and an open-minded perspective, even though he was from ‘across the aisle’, as politicians like to say.

In an age of increasing polarity in terms of politics and class, it would be nice to realize that we have it within us to leave the politics of the blue vs. red behind in favor of our own color - green. Green is the color of spring, of promise, of growth. It’s the ‘Ver’ in Vermont and, in the spectrum, in a rainbow, it bridges and complements the blue and the red - two colors that otherwise don’t mix well, whether on an artist’s palette, or in the often-ungracious politics of our day. As with diversity of race and culture, diversity of thought, of opinion, make our state a unique and a special place not only to live, but to belong.

George, Williston
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My move to Vermont, nearly fifty years ago, was from New York City, to raise my two sons in a more rural atmosphere similar to the one I had been raised in. However, it was simply and quietly met, from garden produce to watchful playtime for my sons. My first year here raising my sons saw a fire that destroyed our cabin. We stayed the first night with friends. The next day a committee from the village found us there and had an offer of a place for us to stay temporarily until we could either rebuild or find a new place. We took them up on it and the very next day after that, there was a line at that door with the villagers brining something to help us get started – all the way from bed sheets and pillows, knives, forks and dishes, to articles of clothing. I can’t think of a single place in New York City where that would have happened. People there don’t know and don’t care about the people next door or the people behind the next door down the hall.

It is this beautiful friendliness that has endeared Vermont to me. My sons are still here with lovely families and successful jobs. As far as I know, they have the same feeling of Vermont’s caring welcome that imbues my being and it is one that I will try to continue to put out, as best I can, for the rest of my life.

Robert, White River Junction
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I still remember my first visit to Vermont. It was the fall of 1975. I was 17 and on a college tour with my mom, who was more determined than I that I would go to Middlebury. I had grown up in a small rural town in New Jersey.

We drove up Route 7 in a blaze of colored leaves, and stopped at a country store with a lunch counter somewhere off the beaten track near Rutland. It had an old creaky screen door and wide wooden floors, and sold everything from fishing tackle to loaves of bread. I had never seen a store like it. I fell in love, with the store, with the road, with the red and orange leaves, with the undulating hills to our east as we drove north. I fell madly, deeply, in love with Vermont. I never wanted to leave. At 17, I had never seen such an unspoiled place.

I did attend Middlebury, and Vermont became for me, its beautiful granite campus; skinny dipping in East Haven; swimming at Bristol Falls, studying amidst apple blossoms near the Middlebury College library, and jumping into the quarry near Cornwall. Holsteins and Jerseys. Ben & Jerry's; Frog Hollow. My sense of Vermont was, and has been ever since, dominated by images of its visual beauty.

But then two weeks ago I read 16 grant applications to the Vermont Women's Fund. And a new picture emerged, so clearly. Suddenly I saw a new picture. A picture of newly emerging populations...Bantu immigrants, newly arrived in our Green Mountain State, so far from home, needing a sense of community, and help connecting with resources. Underserved groups... teenage girls in Milton, isolated, needing entertainment undominated by the presence of boys, and more confidence to grow. Women who want to learn to draw in Brattleboro,but don't have the money to take a class. College girls who want to become choral conductors, but have only male role models. Women who needed shelter...

My Vermont became something different. A pastiche of people, all part of this state. I hoped that they are not immune or indifferent to the visual beauty I have had the privilege to enjoy because of not having to be worried about day to day survival.

My hope for my Vermont is that Vermont's beauty will be reflected and extended in Vermonters helping each other and in defining community to extend a hand to all Vermonters, those from Africa, and those from Milton.

Lauren, St. Johnsbury
Posted by VPR Online Producer, Tim Johnson]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1140018 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1140018 GMT it's theirs. It's his, the young man who boards the Amtrak at 125th Street in Harlem and rides it north. He passes through Albany and Saratoga Springs, and then cuts east through the Taconic Mountains, passing white farmhouses, red barns, tractors and cows.

The train pulls into Rutland and he gets off behind Wal-Mart. It's a damp drizzly Monday night. He's carrying a small duffel bag that's packed with clothes and little baggies of brown powder.

Her car, a rusted Nissan, pulls into the parking lot, splashes through the puddles and picks him up. He doesn't know it, but her great-grandparents, on her father's side, owned one of those sprawling farms he passed on the train.
Her mother's people came from Poland to work in the slate quarries. Their Vermont was their America.

The young lady, their offspring, never made it through high school. She turns the car around, careful to avoid the late winter potholes, and pulls onto the street. The light's dim, even downtown, and he asks her why it's always so dark and cold up here. Near her apartment, they pass a retired couple on their way to their weekly bridge game. The couple, originally from Connecticut, moved permanently into their second home three years ago. It's in Mendon, on the mountain, as the locals say. They built it 40 years ago, when the kids were small. And they used it almost every winter weekend for skiing and in the fall they'd come up to pick apples and rake leaves.

They love Vermont. He gets up early and drives down to the Mendon Country Store for his newspaper and coffee. In the fall, he buys cider donuts and chats with the men who come in before work. As their pickups idle out front, they talk always of weather and some of taxes, fuel costs, roads and what's become of things. They talk of young people and how the good ones move away and the others stay because they have nowhere else to go. And then they start in about the dope dealers and how they're wrecking the city. They come in from out of state and shack up with local girls who long for excitement, who get hooked on what they sell.

In mud season, buckets hang from the maples and the man often pulls over on Route 4, just past Sugar and Spice, to revel in his favorite Vermont scene. Three horses graze in a pasture; the Taconic Mountains rise behind them, in the
west. No matter how many times he sees it, he never tires of it. There's always something new in it.

Our piece of heaven, his wife calls it. But he believes otherwise. It's no more ours than theirs. Or his, the young man whose girlfriend drops him off at the Home Depot farther down the road. His shift starts at 7:00 and he can't be late. He'll find another job soon, he thinks, or wait till the baby's a little older. Then they'll move south, maybe to Florida. He's got a cousin down there who works construction.

Conrad, Rutland
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Linda, Orwell
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When we moved, our children brought the world with them. My oldest son, whose best friend was born of an Iraqi father and an Iranian mother, wanted to start his own communist party. Our daughter lamented the loss of family journeys traveling the globe. When we got on the plane to return to the US, my youngest asked us “what language do they speak in America?”

Adjusting, we shifted gears and started to relish the experiences of life in rural America: snow days and town meetings; potlucks; mud season and an endless wardrobe of fleece. And we discovered that we were not alone in our decision to move to Vermont. We were part of a community of people from other places - expatriates from the urban world who moved here to escape and connect with something more meaningful.

Our oldest two children are now off at college and they value their identity as Vermonters and take pride in bringing friends home from college. It has become for them, as it is for me, a place of refuge, a quiet place to think. Having my home base in Vermont makes the work I do possible. And my experiences while I travel reinforce what we take for granted – the precious knowledge that we live in one of the safest places on earth.

Many people worry about the aging of Vermont and our inability to attract young people. I hope our family is representative of a positive trend of migration from the urban to the rural that will enrich our state in many ways. Thanks to the possibilities of virtual commuting and home offices, I believe that this will be an option for future generations. I expect that my children, after years of college and experience in the working world, will return to Vermont with their children. They will migrate to Vermont to give their children the privilege of innocence and the comfort of safety.

Of this I am quite sure.

Kathleen, Dorset
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Mark, Bristol
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Some of my friends, from away, think that this sentiment, good fences make good neighbors, from Robert Frost's famous poem Mending Wall represents Yankee reticence, a chilly reserve that Vermonters express in their relationships.

Not me.

I see this effort at repairing the stone wall that separates the properties of the two figures in the poem as an annual ritual of friendship. When we mend fences, we're not building barriers - we're fixing something. It's a reconciliation, time together, bent over a task.

We know what it took to make these beautiful stone walls, so when we see one that has crumpled in places, we have an impulse to make it right. It brings order to the universe. In their own way these stone walls represent the relationship between the human and the natural world, so central to our love for Vermont.

So good fences do make good neighbors (do you hear the Yankee rhyme: Good fences; good neighbiz.)

I'm gonna go work in the yahd.

Karl, Cornwall
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Three children were overheard bragging about their fathers. An investment counselor's son said, "My father makes $60 an hour just sitting at his desk." A lawyer's son replied, "My dad talks on the phone for 30 minutes and makes $125." The pastor's son laughed, "That's nothing! My father preaches for 15minutes, and it takes four men to collect all the money!"

Kids love to brag about their parents, but I think parents love to brag about their kids even more. Every parent loves to talk about how their kid made the winning basket in the game or how they earned the leading role in the school play. Parents like to brag about this because they are proud of what their kids have accomplished.

Did you know that God, our heavenly parent, likes to brag about the good things we are doing in our lives? Though many people think of God in a negative light as a parent who is always looking to punish His childlren when they do wrong, this is an unbalanced view of our Heavenly Parent. For God watches us, brags on us to His angels and then showers us with gifts. James, the brother of Jesus, writes about this when he said:

James 1:16-17 Don't be deceived, my dearly loved brothers. Every generous act and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights; with Him there is no variation or shadow cast by turning.

The apostle Matthew echoes this thought when he writes:

Matthew 7:11 If you who are imperfect parents know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!

Today I want to encourage you to do something good. Do something that will make your Heavenly Father proud. Do something that will make God smile and brag to His angels about you. And then watch as God gives you some good gift
in response to how proud He is of you.

Terry Dorsett
Director, Green Mountain Baptist Association
Barre, Vermont
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My husband and I moved to Vermont, perhaps a switch of the supposed trend of young people leaving the state. We had been visiting for Vermont for years as often as possible from our home on Cape Cod. While with many things to love about the Cape, living there was not an ideal paradise that many of our friends enviously imagined. My husband always referred to leaving as getting off the God-forsaken peninsula of sand, commenting that he felt instantly relaxed upon entering the Green Mountain state, and instantly the opposite once we crossed the border to return home. We found welcoming inns and endless back roads to explore, and when the opportunity came, made our decision to move here. The choice reminds us of our favorite Frost poem The Road Not Taken.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

We took a risk leaving what was familiar and in many ways comfortable to us. We left being Wash-a-Shores to become Flat-Landers. The change has been fraught with uncertainty and new twists at every turn but we have found a welcoming community with new friends, new careers, and a new home with friendly or interesting new neighbors. My Vermont is where on Fur-Mother's day I can plant the dahlias that are a gift from our dogs, which they will probably later trample with their abandon of energy in their new found open space. I can hope that I have judged the timing so the plants at least won't succumb to another late frost before the dogs have their turn with them. And while I work in my garden, I can watch the babies roll on the grass in front of our still standing old Vermont Barn, the one for which I am looking for a new, local insurance company to cover so that I can watch the babies play every spring.]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1125833 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1125833 GMT
Peter, Cornwall
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Dear reader, I married him, and thus became submerged in my Vermont, the world of the untacitern Vermonter.

We moved into the hired man's house on the 100 year old family farm. A farm is a semi-public institution for eccentric folks of all types, people who have the
confidence that comes from never having a boss. They stop by to give opinions while the tractor is being fixed, while the sap is boiling. My lanky, laconic Vermont father-in-law, once you got him started, would tell hilarious stories about the local characters who had lived near each other for generations, tales often colored by his cattle breeder determinism, "the females were ok in that family but the males were a bad cross".

Flatland family would be horrified on visits to observe friends and neighbors just walking into our house, being given a cup of coffee, and proceeding to rave about politics, their partners, and the stupidity of the world below
Brattleboro and above Montpelier.

Town Meeting is an expanded version of our living rooms, where every crackpot is allowed his say and is honored for it.

Sara, Weathersfield
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My first summer in Vermont – now 12 years ago - was spent almost entirely in the woods, working for the Green Mountain Club on the southern slopes of Mt. Mansfield. Ever since then, what initially looked to me like a vast expanse of generic forest has unfolded into ever more complexity: A fascinating treasure trove of balsam firs, wood thrushes, blue-spotted salamanders, and an impressive array of soil and bedrock types, which in turn support dozens of distinct forest communities. And even in the deepest woods, legacies of human presence: Stone walls and cellar holes, apple and lilac trees, big old pasture trees that tell of another time when they grew in open land rather than forest.

So the Vermont woods have long been a cultural landscape as much as a natural one. And, compared to many other states, Vermont seems to maintain a healthier balance between nature and culture, between human impact and ecological processes.

And yet, even in the short time since I added myself to the mix, I have also noticed rapid changes in the landscape that threaten this balance: We Vermonters fragment the forest with our ever-multiplying houses and roads, we hold national records in commuting miles, and we cover our lawns with pesticides. I suspect that we know better in some corner of our minds, but that knowledge so often seems to be remote from our conscious actions.

Perhaps it is the knowledge of the land itself that is remote for many of us, especially those of us living in the cities or larger towns. The good news in this is that the larger communities are actually a very good place to be in order to express our love of the land, especially if we cut down on car travel. The time I spend in a car is by definition time I do NOT spend connected to the land, whereas time riding a bike or even walking to the bus stop allows me to observe much more closely what’s around me. Just from my front stoop in Burlington, I have learned over the last four years that the red maple in front of my house flowers a good two weeks before the sugar maple.

This kind of observation gives me intense joy, and it gives me hope: It tells me that we can connect with the land in whatever way offers itself, wherever we are. And by getting to know even small components of the landscape, we can begin to understand the complex web that holds it all, and us, together.

By Kerstin Lange,
Burlington, VT.

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In my Vermont, judges, prosecutors, defenders, social workers and litigants all live and work together in the same communities. Judges, prosecutors, defenders, lawyers and agency workers often feel a sense of failure when we lose a victim to violent crime, a parent’s rights are terminated, a defendant re-offends or anyone struggles with the misery of addiction. We all can feel hope and accomplishment when a victim is protected, an offender is rehabilitated, and children return safely home.

In my Vermont, citizens, lawyers, and legislators created strengthened and created institutions and agencies to fill in gaps in our justice system. Vermont Legal Aid, the Vermont Defender General and Public Defender system, Prisoners Rights Office, Vermont Network Against Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence, Have Justice Will Travel, the Vermont Volunteer Lawyers Association, Vermont Bar Association Pro Bono Project, the State’s Attorney’s Victim Advocates, Adult and Juvenile Diversion Boards community justice centers, Superior Court mediation programs and Vermont Family Court have all been created or significantly strengthened to help us in our efforts to provide justice in the past several decades.

The justice system in my Vermont is far from perfect. But it has our human faces, is woven through the fabric of our communities, and its workers and our communities are constantly striving to improve it.

Jean, Brattleboro
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My Vermont is my home. I am a flatlander, and unfortunately will always be. I am convinced this situation is simply a birth defect, not a personality disorder. I know I was supposed to have been born here, my parents, however
were unaware.

My son and daughter have grand parents and great grand parents native to Vermont. I remain forever envious, while satisfied that they are in some way, a part of this wonderful place.

My Vermont is a philosophy. Where the fine residents care about life. They care about freedom, and liberty. They care about each other. A place where the right thing to do is simply that. The right thing to do. So, the right thing is what we do.

My Vermont is an ideal. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. At a Post Oil Solutions gathering, a speaker stated the obvious. She was willing to alter her lifestyle in any way necessary to ensure the survival of Vermont and the planet.

My Vermont. I can see forever from the Green Mountain's highest peaks or feel their security and comforting when surrounded by them in the valleys.

My Vermont is my home. Where I must, and will gladly remain.


Nick, Vernon
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Taking on the responsibility of bringing Stanley to places that would epitomize Vermont for suburban school kids was something I took seriously. We did the obvious kid-enticing destinations: Ben & Jerry’s, Lake Champlain Chocolates, and Vermont Teddy Bear factories. But there were other spots that could teach about this place.

I made a trip to Montpelier to show off the beautifully restored State House. No metal detectors to pass through on the way in here. I love sharing that we are both the smallest state capitol in population and we are the only capitol city that does not have a Burger King or McDonalds. I was able to snap Stanley in a picture with two of our friendly legislators. I can’t imagine that happening the other states. I have lived in Massachusetts, Washington, and Illinois. Before moving to Vermont, I only met one elected official at a parade. When I go to vote here, I recognize the people on the ballot as my neighbors. My Vermont is small and accessible.

I also brought Flat Stanley to a sugarhouse during open house weekend. A neighbor in Westford was demonstrating the whole process for collecting and boiling the sap. Unfortunately, there was no way to translate in a picture the cotton candy smell of the steam that filled the room. We watched wood fire beneath to boiler get stoked and how the hydrometer tests the syrup for the right thickness. I kept thinking how lucky Vermont kids are that they have the opportunity to experience this special season in between winter and spring that is maple sugar season. My Vermont is sweet.

I also felt compelled to show off the physical features of this state to the flatlanders. I took Stanley down to the lakefront in Burlington and we watched people enjoying the spring weather on the boardwalk. The views of the green mountains to the east and the Adirondaks to the west were dotted with kayaks and other boats in the water. Stanley and I then headed to the mountains. We took a picture of Camel’s Hump from Lake Iroquois in St. George, and then a view of Mount Mansfield from Westford. As we looked up, we could imagine the Long Trail winding its way through the spine of the Green Mountains. We went on some local hikes—Indian Brook Rservation and some town trails behind our house. My Vermont is beautiful.

I couldn’t send Stanley back without some pictures of the many Vermont farms and the barns that look like they could not stand up to a gentle breeze. We saw cows, pigs, and chickens. We also saw the beginnings of the fields being plowed for the crops that will be planted soon. I thought about all of the work that goes into getting milk and produce to our tables. The abundance of local agriculture makes it easy for us to get fresh products from local growers in season. The ability to join CSA’s and pick up fresh food weekly during the warm months is something I never experienced growing up in the Chicago suburbs. Food came from the chain grocery store. My Vermont is delicious

As I packed up the pictures for their journey back to Chicago, I hoped that my descriptions did this place justice. I welcomed the opportunity to show off Vermont to my niece and her first grade friends. I wondered where the other Stanley’s in the class traveled to and if the places they went were as special as my Vermont.

Beth, Westford
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There was always a rush in the city. There was never a time when no car was on the road. The sidewalks were always crowded so we had to stick together. The sounds were always of car horns honking, subways, busses, trucks and sirens. The smell of car, truck and bus exhaust was always there.

I had a lot fun there, but coming back to Vermont was a big relief. When we got to Rutland on Amtrak, which was pretty late, it was very quiet. All I heard was the sound of the wind. Driving home was also a big shock; there were barely any cars on the road. Coming back to Vermont made me realize how much I love it here. It’s not crowded, smelly, noisy, or expensive. Instead, it’s beautiful and the air smells fresh.

Ariana
Team Millennium
Vergennes Union Middle/High School
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Vermont is known for its colorful trees, and amazing panoramas of mountains. It is not only a place that is known for its scenery but its hospitality. Vermont is very stunning and it is a friendly place where everybody helps out when something needs to get done or when somebody is in trouble.

A very unfortunate event that happened in my life was last May when my dad fell twenty feet off a roof. He suffered a broken back, a collapsed and bruised lung and broken ribs. He spent about a week in the hospital and was soon home. When he got home he was visited frequently by friends and family. Before we knew it we were getting cards, and people were sending meals for us to eat. Everybody knew that my family needed help. Vermont is the kind of place where you don’t need to ask for help; it’s automatic. I think it’s important for people of all ages to know that people care, and when you need help, people within your community give it.

My dad is still fighting the pain of a broken back and will soon be going through surgery, and the support of our town will help us through it again. When anybody in the community is going through some tough times, friends and family provide help and support, which is one of the many traits of Vermonters that I just love. When talking to my mom, she said that, “The safe and comfortable place that my brothers and I are growing up in give us the good values and morals to help somebody, no matter who it is.” Vermont is one of the smaller states in the United States but, I think it is one of the best places in which to live and grow up.

Monica
Team Millennium
Vergennes Union Middle/High School
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In my Vermont, people enjoy the exhilarating rush of hunting. We are not professionals that get paid for it; we do it because we like the excitement.

Saturday morning, April 26, 4:30 AM. I was sitting in the woods waiting for the turkeys to come out of their roost. The day was new and looked like it would be fantastic. It took a while but finally the first turkey gobbled. After that one, it triggered the rest roosting near it to wake. There was about a fifteen minute wait until the turkeys came out from their trees. A few turkeys landed in the field we were watching. My body started shaking like a leaf in a windstorm and I got the hunting rush many Vermonters know and love.

We called the turkeys and they moved toward us slowly. Unfortunately, the birds, for some reason, turned around and went back into the woods.

Although I did not end up getting a turkey, the feeling of watching and listening to them wake up excites me every time. When I talk to older Vermonters that have hunted for many years, they say every time an animal comes out of the woods when hunting, they get very excited and start shaking. Now I know that it’s not only me that gets the thrill out of hunting, it’s other hunters too.

Eddie
Team Millennium
Vergennes Union Middle/High School
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My Vermont is a place full of scenic beauty. What I am talking about is the wildlife. Vermont isn’t like some of the bigger states with a lot of big cities. What Vermont specializes in is trees and forests.

There is nothing that my friends and I like to do better than to hang out in the woods at my house. It almost seems like there are new adventures waiting every day. Probably my favorite thing is that the adventure could be something small like finding a strangely twisted tree, or it could be something big like discovering a fox den, but the best part is, that no matter what it is always exciting.

I love where I live because of the woods. That is my-chill out spot. Whenever I am sad or even bored, I know I can go there and will feel better. It makes me feel better because of how relaxing it is. Sometimes it is just great to get away from our appliances and enjoy nature.

David
Team Millennium
Vergennes Union Middle/High School
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In my Vermont, there are people who take long walks through the woods to see the beautiful Green Mountain foliage and take bike rides along the banks of Lake Champlain with its glittering water front.

One time my whole family took a long, exhausting walk up Snake Mountain to look over Addison County. We saw a lot of farm land that looked like checker boards scattered all over Addison. We loved seeing these fields because it meant farmers cared for their crops and that they enjoyed their work very much. My grandpa, a very hard working farmer said, “I want to die on a farm.” He has worked and lived on farms his entire life in Vermont, and he said, “I will never leave Vermont.” That’s a true old time Vermonter.

Every time I take long rides with my family in the country side, I always see people walking beside the road, taking pictures of trees and mountains. Most of these people are tourists from around the world that have never seen this type of foliage. This just goes to show that people will pay big bucks to see something once or twice that we see every day. We are so lucky to live in such a beautiful state.
Kyle
Team Millennium
Vergennes Middle/High School
Posted by VPR Online Producer, Tim Johnson]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1105818 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1105818 GMT I’ve skied most of my life and have come to realize how much a part of my life skiing is. Vermont is known for its picture perfect skiing. The lush trees with their snow and ice covered branches, are what makes for a good time on the mountain.

There was one time when I was skiing at Mad River Glen with my dad and his ski group. We sat down for lunch and everyone was ordering and talking, when my dad told the person opposite to him that I had started snowboarding lessons. At that moment, a wave of surprised mumbles rolled down the table. It was like I had broken a secret taboo. I felt some guilt, but it didn’t change me wanting to learn to snowboard and progress at skiing at the same time.

To me that instance completely proves that skiing is the spirit of Vermont. It just shows how entwined skiing is to a Vermonter’s life. We can go outside into nature and enjoy ourselves with family and friends. It helps people get through the long, cold winters. The reason I go skiing over and over again is because it’s a great way to see the beauty of Vermont and that gives me a sense of what being a Vermonter is all about.

Jon
Team Millennium
Vergennes Union Middle/High School
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Megan, Burlington
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Ryan AGE 26
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Dan, Newfane
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After my marriage ended I bought a small house in Vermont in 1998. The internet brought me a job offer and I moved to Vermont in 2001. Despite difficult job changes, I've been able to stay in Vermont, on my hillside. I look across the fields to the Braintree range and the Northfield range and those fields and mountains show me something new every day. I find music and theater offerings in Vermont that enrich my soul and widen my horizons. I find that gardening, stacking wood, and tending a woodstove bring a great deal of
satisfaction. The neighbor who lent me a sump pump this spring, the child who came to my yard to watch the young porcupine strolling through the garden, the two dogs who consider me the treat lady, the friend who takes in my cat
when I have to travel are each a connection that I know I would not have made were I not here in Vermont.

Vermont is my home. My neighbors and friends are wonderful people, my sense of place grows stronger year by year, my contentment grows deeper. I do not want to be anywhere else. But I fear that my health care needs and the cost of food and heat will force me away in not too many more years.

Elizabeth, Brookfield
Posted by VPR Online Producer, Tim Johnson]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1097081 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1097081 GMT could let their children roam and explore with few worries. A nice place and time.

As a junior and senior in college, I lived in San Francisco, then stayed on for several more years at my first job. That was quite a change for a small town girl. The City was mostly concrete, big, noisy, and busy. It was the headquarters for many large corporations, and a major seaport for international trade. It had a diverse ethnic population, with little neighborhoods of their own. There were several college campuses and a citywide system of public libraries. It offered many cultural opportunities, and an excellent public transportation system for getting around. But one of many things I had to learn about city life was cautiousness. Over those eight years, I evolved from a trusting person into a watchful and wary one.

Until 1970, Vermont had always been just a name on the map -- one of those several tiny States jammed in the upper right corner. But on my first-ever visit in the fall of that year, everything changed. It felt like coming home, like stepping back 20 years in time. I was safe again.

It was so green and clean here! No gaudy billboards, no trash on the roadsides. The people I met were warm and welcoming. I felt their genuine caring for each other and for their community. They eagerly participated in civic business, in money-raising events, and in town socials. There was a barn-raising spirit. I moved here for good six months later.

Of course, I had to get used to black flies, very humid summers, bone-numbing winters, and no coastline. But that was a small price to pay for all I found here that felt so right.

One of the first things I noticed then was the direct connection between contemporary life and the history of the place. There's respect here for the lay of the land, and for the plants and animals that live on it. Centuries of human history have become traditions for working with nature and the landscape, instead of against it.

I think it's this solid, comfortable compatibility with the land that keeps native Vermonters here, and invites newcomers to stay. These hills and valleys are home to farmers and ranchers, artists and innovators, writers and scientists -- all manner of people who want close ties with the Earth.

Even if you live in a large Vermont town, you are not far from relative wilderness. When driving, I delight in spotting animals that I only knew about from books in my childhood: moose, possums, beavers, porcupines, shrews, ruffed grouse, herons, wild turkeys, Canadian geese, and woodcocks... On a hike, I am awed by the variety and beauty of flowers, plants and trees I never saw in the West: trillium, cosmos, goldenrod, gloriosa daisy, certain mosses and lichens, red oak, maple, beech, birch, and all sorts of conifers.

It is so peaceful to sit at the edge of a quiet mountain stream or pond, to look at the reflected image of the opposite bank, and to listen to birds calling and the hum of insects. I'm mesmerized watching dragonflies dip to the
surface, then hear the slap of the occasional jumping fish or frog. A warm breeze might come up, rustling leaves and rippling the water. At first an observer of my surroundings, I gradually feel more and more a part of them.

Vermont has been my home for 37 years now, and I've seen many changes. Not all of them for the better.

* I used to be able to attend an evening movie or play, and then walk the mile home alone in the dark without a care. I wouldn't dream of doing that today; the violence and crimes of the big cities are here now.

* The pace of life has turned frantic, and people are much more competitive.

* I don't particularly like the huge, new houses that look so out of place with their settings.

* l worry about industrial toxins polluting the land, water and air.

* And I greatly fear that short term economic concerns, rather than absolute safety, will drive the decision for continuing with nuclear power generation.

But I am very encouraged by the strong progressive attitude here. There's determination to develop non-invasive, renewable sources of power and transportation. We recycle, and have composting programs. I'm heartened by the enthusiasm for relying more on healthful, locally grown food, and by a determination to preserve our wilderness.

There's deep concern and an indomitable spirit in this little State of ours. We will face down the challenges of this topsy-turvy world.

Susan, Rutland
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Sarah, Westminster
Posted by VPR Online Producer, Tim Johnson]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1097056 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1097056 GMT Washington DC means I’ve bucked the trend.

I’m 25, and I grew up in Cabot. When I followed the Connecticut River three hours South to go to college I defied a family tradition. Aside from a few snow-bird great-aunts and –uncles, I was practically the only one in my huge, extended family to live anywhere outside Washington
county, let alone Vermont. But I went out into the world anyway and grabbed all the skills and new experiences I could find.

I know I have counter-culture compatriots out there who’ve come back. We all have the same idea: I’ll trade whatever I’m missing in the city for a friendly neighbor and a view of Camel’s Hump.

My Vermont is the place where my great-grandfather and his father are buried, their headstones carved from the same Vermont granite they quarried all their lives. I had to leave to appreciate all this. But how could I not come home?

Cara, Sharon
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Wendy, Bridgewater
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Gradually new friends came forth. Two more wondrous babies arrived. Together we followed the seasons with our activities – cutting cross country ski trails and hiking in the fall; skiing, skating, and sledding in the winter; then glorious summer with water activities – on, off, and in the lake. I learned the sheer joy of access to nature - in the fields, the woods and on our mountaintops.

Vermont began to shape me as we joined in the community and took pride in helping it grow. I delighted in the academic life, as both student and faculty at UVM.

I grew to appreciate Vermonters’ no-nonsense values, their work ethic, their reserve, their basic kindness and pioneer spirits - no stuffy social hierarchy here.

My daily passion continues: a tuna fish salad by the waterfront while sharing the view with the ducks and squawking seagulls. Adults and children stroll by, bikers whiz past as purple azaleas display their blossoms. Nearby, a royal avenue of Callery Pear trees unfurl their delicate leaves.

The massive Adirondacks across the lake rise as proud guardians. Fifty-two years later my life is rich beyond all expectations.

Alice, Burlington
Posted by VPR Online Producer, Tim Johnson]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1082435 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1082435 GMT romanticism of pouring from a glass bottle. I can't be sure. But for this pleasure I pay $2.99 per half gallon. With the $1 deposit for the bottle, which I get back when it's returned, I drop $4 on a half-gallon of non-organic skim
milk.

Despite my milk indulgence, I am a typical penny-pinching New Englander. I have housemates and a vegetable garden. I don't have television, make-up, or a car from the 21st century. When the seasons change I don't go shopping for new clothes, I invite my friends over and we have a swap, trading clothing we no longer like for someone else's sweater, dress or clogs. I cobble together jobs and somehow make it by every month.

As I read about the rising costs of food and fuel, I get nervous, scared, anxious. Newspapers tell me gas and food prices are intertwined and will continue to rise, with no relief in sight. Farmers have stopped growing wheat
in favor of corn to make ethanol, bread crept up to $4 a loaf and eggs cost more and more each week. In efforts to conserve, I walk into town, cancel a trip to Montpelier and consider getting some chickens.

I try to not get swept up in the gloom and doom, but when the little I have to spend needs to stretch even further, it's stressful and unnerving.

And yet, I still choose to buy milk in the glass bottle. Because when my housemate pulls a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven and places one in front of me, nothing else will due.

Lauren, Norwich
Posted by VPR Online Producer, Tim Johnson]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1082431 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1082431 GMT mittens and Sorel boots. Growing up in Vermont Halloween was that type of holiday – whatever costume you chose had better be able to accommodate long underwear and a hat. It seems as though most Vermont holidays have the same clothing criteria. After high school I went to college in another state. For the first time in my life I wasn’t living in a valley and I couldn’t tell what direction I was facing without any natural features to guide me. It was uncomfortable and exposing. After spending 18 years relying on the mountains I had to develop other skills for navigation. When I had the freedom to decide where to live I chose to move back to the Green Mountain State and settled in a different valley. In part the decision to return was as simple as reconnecting with the mountains, field, and rivers that were so familiar and offered me a sense of place and identity. Living on my own I realized how much this state and its people have taught me about patience when dealing with the fickle patterns of New England weather along with the joys and sorrows of seasonal agriculture. My Vermont reminds me of who I am and how much of my character is rooted in this landscape. I am not Irish, English, German, or Polish as my ancestry would suggest. I am a Vermonter. I must be – I’ve worn my Sorels to church on Easter.

Cara, Montpelier
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This winter, an otter paid a visit to our front yard, sliding down our sledding hill on his belly. He sniffed around our picket fence, inspected our yard, then slid back into the woods, back down to the nearby brook and his den. It was a wonderful surprise, especially to my husband and my four-year-old daughter, who witnessed his adventure. This is what my Vermont is all about -- the daily encounter with wildness: a beaver lodge, nesting wild ducks, songbirds, wild turkeys, red-tailed hawks, white-tailed deer. And the sounds; turkeys gobbling, coyotes howling, wood thrushes, and the cacophony of spring peepers. It is about my connection to the land, my desire for self-sufficiency and stewardship. Here, I raise chickens and honeybees. I tend my gardens. I tap my maple trees. I grow food for my family, and I have found a community of wonderful people of like mind. Watching the rapid growth in Middlebury I wonder: in ten years, or twenty, will my Vermont still exist? Will climate change and rampant development take it all away? Maybe. But in my Vermont, so many people love and value the same life that I love and value that I can’t help but be filled with hope that our friend the otter and his descendants will be sliding down our sledding hill when my grandchildren have children.

]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1080022 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1080022 GMT My Vermont



There are two things I love about Vermont: the land and Vermonters.
I love how Vermonters have pursued their interests regarding the land and, as a whole, collectively, have an amazing depth and breadth of knowledge from the impact of nuclear waste to the struggles of the tiniest endangered species. When I want to learn about solid waste or cave bats, it is easy to find knowledgeable people who are excited to teach me what I want to learn. I come home the richer for it and, in turn, teach my own family.
I love the land, because it is the soul of New England, these stony, rock hard hills covered with pasture and forest. With the ever-changing seasons there is always something new. In April, for example, we left the relative quiet of winter and awakened to song bird soloists and a choral serenade of peepers chanting the notes of a new beginning. The warm breath of spring transports us into new activities, new life.
My only fear is if we should let down our guard and, for reasons of greed or some other untoward purpose, allow our vigilance or knowlede to flag. There are many pressures and reasons to compromise our vigilance and many of them may seem logical in argument. It is up to us Vermonters, collectively to withstand this onslaught. The land will hold and sustain us as long as we uphold our duty to the land.


Heidi Buxton Ladd
Chester
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Claire, Lyndon
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My father had a family medical practice in Orleans, and committed himself to his patients and their care. There were many nights when someone from the mill knocked on our door in the middle of the night after an injury with a machine. And if he wasn't up all night tending the injured, my father was down the street at the clinic, or at the hospital in Newport checking on patients or travelling the many dirt roads doing house calls.

Occasionally he would take me along on a house call, and I would play with the kids at his destination, or he might ask someone to take me out to the barn so I could see the animals. I was and still am an animal lover. I recall asking my father why in the world he became a doctor when he could have been a farmer. It didn't make any sense to me at all. But now I see his calling, like a farmer, steward and caregiver of his land, my father provided the same care and stewardship over his community. A farmer at heart.


Susan, Brandon
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Becka, Montpelier
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Meghan, Lincoln
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Freedom. That is what Vermont means to me. I am free to live my life as I so chose. Free on many different levels, but above all free and in community.

In this changing, disrupted world of ours, living in Vermont, I do not feel afraid. The low crime levels in my community leave me free of fear of violent crime. I feel safe and that gives me a considerable amount of freedom. Community surrounds and embraces me - my family, my neighborhood, my work community and the greater community of being a Vermonter. I raised my children knowing they were safe and thriving. What better gift could there be?

I feel free in nature. I so much appreciate Vermont’s inclination to preserve and conserve nature and the attention that is being put on curbing global warming. I am able to genuinely appreciate nature and take steps to do my part to help this world of ours. I do not fear the future when living in Vermont.

As a citizen of Vermont I am free to make many choices that are not available to others. This is due to Vermont’s tendency to under-regulate and not provide so many rules and regulated restrictions on its residents.

I also appreciate the State and its citizens’ inclination to provide for the basic rights of its people. I speak of food, clothing, shelter, education and safety. This is a State that looks after its people and of this I feel proud and hopeful.

I very much appreciate the smallness of the state and its friendly, political atmosphere. You can see and greet your Congressman and Senators at the local diner, or shops, and they respond as if you were a life-long friend. You meet with candidates in people’s homes and can ask direct questions and receive honest and direct answers. Voting in Vermont is a friendly endeavor. The local town clerk knows my name and voting is a personable yet meaningful deed. And last but not least, democracy thrives in the tradition of Town Meeting Day.

I live in Vermont, because I choose to live here. And feel free of the burden of searching out a better place to live. There simply is no better place.

Katherine Verman
Vermonter
Charlotte, VT 05445
]]> http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1078446 http://action.publicbroadcasting.net/vpr/posts/list/942410.page#1078446 GMT like swimming in the uncontaminated White River, eating fresh produce from our local CSA, and exposure to the arts, local musuems, etc. While I often yearn for the Vermont I grew up in, I appreciate that it is still a special place. It's not perfect, but may be as perfect as it gets.

Dawna, Tunbridge
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Elaine, West Haven
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We buy our corn from John and Velma Brigante in Mallet’s Bay. They closed their farm stand a few years ago, but thankfully they still sell fruits and vegetables out of the barn behind their house. I buy a week’s supply of crispy baby romaine lettuce at the Farmers’ Market from Mara and Spencer Welton. They run Half Pint Farm in the Intervale. We buy fresh bread from Ethan and Sarah Brown at the Great Harvest Bread Company on Pine Street and hot apple pies from Allenholm Farm on So. Hero.

Before moving to Vermont, I’d spent my entire adult life in big cities. Grocery shopping was a chore, and I never gave any thought to where my food came from. Now I regard being a “localvore” as an act of environmental stewardship. But it’s also about building /community/. I find it comforting to /know/ the people who grow my food and to be in relationship with them. Somehow /that/ makes the good food taste even better!

Sue, Burlington
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