That You Are Here

Hurricane-free September 2014 was the second time I went to New England; this time it was Woodstock, Vermont. Woodstock combined the good about the past with the good about the present, leaving behind the bad aspects of both. It comes close to fulfilling the illusory wishes of “Golden Age thinking."

So how does this relate to the question of identity? Well, you can imagine that the whole time I was in Woodstock, a part of me wished to be a part of it. We can all relate with this wish, whether it be in relation to a town, a place, a state, a country, an institution, even a sports team, or something existential, like a feeling. That tiny bit of ownership in something that appeals to us goes a long way.

The first time we explored Woodstock was on a Sunday evening. It felt like we were the only ones there—and what year was it? There were no power lines above the quaint buildings. The sun slanted lower and lower over the quiet streets. A covered bridge crossed one of many streams. There was a slight chill in the air as the day slid into dusk, and after dinner we walked the dark streets with no concerns.

There is just something special about Vermont. Doe-eyed cows grazing; fruit trees hanging low with apples and pears; sugar maples flowing with sweet syrup. The restaurants always featured local products, and they were all delicious. For all the romantic—yet real—imagery, I understand there is a lot of work behind it, too, for we all know that agriculture is not an easy job. People care, and it shows.  

Cows grazing near Woodstock.

Laurance and Mary Rockefeller donated their home and farm in Woodstock to the National Park Service in 1992. It became Marsh-Billings-Rockefeller National Historical Park, which focuses on conservation, and is a fascinating place to tour and explore, as is Billings Farm and Museum across the way. The Rockefellers were the ones who buried the power lines underground in Woodstock. The garden at the Rockefeller house on a late September day was chock-full of flowers and bees, with no one else. Perfect!

In my next post, I will explain how Woodstock and New England encouraged me to write on personal identity. Also, we will be going west, like so many before us.

The garden at Marsh-Billings-Rockefeller National Historical Park. 

The design I created was inspired by Vermont’s red clover. I found its sweet blooms near Quechee Gorge. Please see the Designs page for the finished version.