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School Bells, Recess, Lunchboxes!

School Bells, Recess, Lunchboxes!

We’ll hear them soon… The welcoming school bells in the village of Woodstock, Vermont. Our youngsters running, skipping, tossing balls, climbing, and swinging higher and higher on that swing. Remember THAT swing? Perhaps you were fortunate enough to have a “swing set” in your backyard – the one with the striped poles that often came out of the ground when all of you tested it’s strength at the same time? Ah, recess…we all remember it well, fondly. The jungle gym and merry-go-round were magnets for kids sprinting, who will get there first, as the floodgates opened, twice a day, if you...

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Did you say pie?

Did you say pie?

Summer conjures up freshly baked fruit and berry pies. We all flock to that table at gatherings or state fairs. In Vermont, one may see a roadside stand selling pies in that tin-punched pie safe, a jar of change nearby, yes, it’s the honor system here in these parts, and a small spiral notebook for the notation of your purchase – for inventory purposes, of course. The history of pie goes way back. Egyptians and Greeks set the stage, mainly with aromatic meat preparations. Pie made its way to America via the English settlers, frugal fillings with a virtually non-edible...

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Small Plates...Tapas

Small Plates...Tapas

Tapas…the word alone evokes the Mediterranean: blue-capped domes, sultry little villages, lively music and appetites, a warm and salty sea breeze, bare feet, a sun-kissed glow – the scents of cultures far away, yet so close: briny olives, oregano, tomatoes off the vine, lemons freshly plucked from a nearby tree, fruity grassy wines, pungent mountain cheese, sweet watermelon, olive oil so beautiful, you could drink it, little capers that burst in your mouth, freshly baked breads and crackers from the neighborhood community oven. Some of us have enjoyed travel to Greece, Italy, and Spain…but most of us search out exotic,...

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Our Own Forest Oasis

Our Own Forest Oasis

A Woodstock, Vermont summer storm is brewing. Dark clouds swiftly move in, darkening the ever-present blue skies our town’s famous for. The scents of the green sweetness of the forest and the earthiness of mountain soil, envelope your surroundings. Your entire being is entranced. You regress to your childhood, to the porch, to the hammock, to your twin bed right by the window. Flowing white curtains, your dog under the bed, the hint of freshly laundered crisp percales cozied up to your chin. The screen door blowing in the wind to a three-quarter beat - the peepers singing a symphony for...

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The Backyard Barbecue

The Backyard Barbecue

The place? Woodstock, Vermont or for that matter, any Small Town, USA. It was always a warm virgin summer day when they all gathered. They came in the Chevy station wagon, rode their bikes, carpooled with the uncles who had a van, or just skipped along that cement sidewalk  - all following the waft of the family barbecue. Summer was announced. Everyone was happy. Under the afternoon blue skies, with the host house nearby, we heard the murmur of family gossip, the clink of a horseshoe, a kazoo resonating while a marching little kid dodged adults and picnic tables forming...

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