I’m alone, in the quiet of our Vermont cabin.
Having a place to hang our hat, here in the mountains, has been a dream since I first started coming up here to study with Rosemary Gladstar. I think I was 19.
We always thought we'd live in Vermont or Western Mass, and while we love our home and community in New Jersey (and the tomatoes - no where else has those), the solitude of the forest hills has been a yearning that never quieted.
And now we're here.
It's everything we dreamed of and more. Do I sound cheesy as hell? You bet!
On my table (it's like this friggen perfect, rough sawn farm house table tucked into a corner where I can look out into the forest that is the perfect golden color since the leaves are just Vermont-y perfect - seriously I'm not making this shit up) and there is a wonderful bouquet of flowers on the table, from Tanglebloom farm. A place I’ve never been, but a farm I’ve followed on Instagram for a while. I picked them up at a cute little country market here in the Green Mountains. They’re tucked in a water bottle one of the boys brought along for the car ride up. Of course, it’s from Grow It Green Morristown. It’s funny how perfect these flowers are to me. Yes, I have pretty much the exact thing growing at home and I could have gathered a bucket full and stuffed them in the car and brought them up here, but there was something so much more rewarding about getting (the very last) bouquet at a market up here, with flowers from up here.
I wonder if this little heart bursting feeling is how people feel when they get flowers from me in NJ? I sure hope so!
But this being a cabin in the woods, the photo I took on my phone isn’t available (everything here is perfect except the internet, which kind of sucks but really, who cares? Ok - maybe I care a little about the slow speed...) , so I’ll have to just post a photo of a bouquet from home.
Here’s to locally grown, where ever your local may be this quiet, damp fall afternoon.