Northern Vermont

Saturday morning haul

My rustic cabin in northern Vermont has me living amongst the Amish until the leaves begin falling off the trees. The energy I release will remain here with the fallen leaves to rest within the cold of winter, reenergizing for rebirth by Mother Earth come Spring.

The Amish life seems simple at first glance, but then you observe them working the land by hand and can’t help but feel the toil of their days. Their love for the land and community shines through it all. They are many and they are one.

Amongst all the houses on the quiet dirt roads, how does one know which house is filled with Amish? It’s not necessarily the understated pristine house or a horse drawn carriage in place of a car that gives it away. It’s the clothesline. It begins attached to the house and stretches what seems like forever, to a pole near the edge of their property. On wash day it is filled with clothing of all sizes and colors of only blue or white, pinned tightly so the breeze will fill them with the freshness of the lush northern air.

The size of the family is told not only by this clothesline, but also by the line which is connected to each of the quintessential, evenly spaced maple trees that borders their driveway. The spaces in between are also filled with whites and bright blues, including one shade I’ve come to recognize as their unique bright blue.

It’s easy for me to respect their way of living. They use what the earth provides for them and their survival is dependent upon the whims of nature guiding their direction. A hard way to live. 

Winters are very long this far north and I can easily imagine them all sitting around a warm fire, quilting, chatting and through their labor of love, preparing their light and sugary glazed donuts for the public to enjoy.

This is my truth,

Carol