The Yellow Barn that isn't...Road Trip 8/4AA/14

Later 8.9.14...I'm posting more pictures from my travels around Northeast Vermont...may not be in order.

VT meadow, blue hills of NH in the background

8/9/14 Sitting on the front porch at 33 Liberty St, Montpelier, mild and breezy summer Saturday. David is preparing for 2 performers from Circus Smirkus to come and stay while the group is in town. I spent the afternoon walking downtown, seeing my cousin, Holly and 650 other bikers ride up to the State House to present toys to the Shriners...I think Holly has already posted pictures on Facebook, but if I don't go through my photos systimaticly, I'll surely forget where I was and what I did...maybe why I keep working at enjoying each moment...it will be over all too quickly.

Arrangement in white/black/red...license plate for Volvo David and Theo are picking up in Sweeden, November

Stream along Rt. 302

Since Hurricane Irene, the stream beds have been fortified with granite chunks

Monday's trip was back into my married past, 1970-1982, when I lived in the old schoolhouse in East Ryegate, VT. I often drove back and forth between East Ryegate and Montpelier on 302, which still has very little new development...we even biked this route through the mountains once, long ago. There has been so little change in the scenery, it is like time traveling back.

"the yellow barn," only slightly faded from when it was used as a land mark

Ride along with me: turning north on Rt. 5 from Wells River toward East Ryegate

It's as if you are all riding along with me, memory lane, and a lot of processing to separate the good, learning to be a self-supporting artist and living in VT again from the abusive husband part. Few experiences are without some redeeming values. I had plenty of space to explore art projects: 25 x 35 foot studio space, learned to be proud of what I did, and finally go out on my own.

The trees we planted block the view of the old schoolhouse, the 8-foot tall windows have been replaced by small ones, looks like the original roof, belfry behind the tree.

Much of the difficult associations I have with this building have faded over time. The place has  changed: a playground and the town leach field now where there had been fields to which I retreated to sit in the dark on a pile of hay bales, wondering what would become of me. Also, I tried to analyze how to paint the moon. My first garden is now lawn, but with a round patch of the asparagus I planted, then endlessly weeded from witch grass.

Field behind the schoolhouse, blue NH hills, the Connecticut River between

A Beautiful spot, cross country skiing out the door in winter. I remember sun on snow...and a January when the temperature didn't get above zero all month. Cutting, hauling, burning twelve cords of wood, and still the sink traps would freeze in the house. I love my gentle winters and cool summers in WA.

Barnet, next town north on 5

Continuing north on Route 5 to stop to visit my paternal grandparents and Dad at the Passumpsic Cemetary...Spirit or Memories?

Beside Rt. 5, the train collection has grown in size...Trains always make me think of my Dad

 

Round barn in Passumpsic...a more efficient development in dairy farming..push hay and silage down to cows on bottom level. Another round barn at Shelburne Museum yesterday

Visited the remains of my paternal grandparents, Dad, Uncle Jack at the Passumpsic Cemetary

When I was in Glover, a tired boy prevented my visiting the Leonard Homestead and the Bickford/Leonard cemetery...also did not find the lying in hospital where I was born in Barton, although I did see a street in Glover named after Dr. Buck, who delivered me. The actual spots are getting less and less important to me to visit...I know my history...it's interesting to see, but this time I feel that I may not need to go back. We carry our histories with us, build upon them, and do a little selective remembering as well. What is Real? What is Important?

Checking out East St. Johnsbury, just past the food coop

I purchased the BEST Maple Creeme from this charming native of Bethlehem, NH

The bank in Wells River where I got my first mortgage...a very kind and personable banking experience

When I was a child, visiting my father's parents in Bradford, I could still buy a paper doll book here for a dime

Barre Art...these small Vermont towns demonstrate their appreciation for the arts

My grandfather's law office was in the turret in Bradford. I remember the spittoon he still had when I as young.

Now it is more fun than cathartic to visit the scenes of my and my family's history. That day I took another route back to Montpelier and David and I entertained...and he entertained us, Tim Barrit, the companion of many meals and laughs...I forgot to take a picture of us...the best tribute to this reunion.


I'm finishing this post sitting on the floor at the top of David's house on Sunday, August 10, almost ready to head south, to see the Alice Neel show in Bennington, and on to my friends Annie and Patti in NY...I'll get back to you when I can.

The journey is the destination.