Weekend in the Mountains
Vermont recovery: playing, singing, dancing, together-ing
Hi, loves!
I’m coming off such a sweet weekend that I can hardly remember how hard the week leading up to it was, and how fragile and porous I felt. Humans have the memories of goldfish, and it’s the funniest, most fortunate thing. Don’t worry — I’ll dwell on the weekend and won’t bore you with the details of my emotional fluctuations, but I figured I’d mention the hard stuff before waxing rhapsodic about the slice of heaven that is Addison County, Vermont. Blyth always says that “nothing bad happens in Vermont,” which is a lovely lie that feels very much like the truth.
Teo drove me up on Friday morning, as early as I could coax myself out of bed after a late shift. On our way, we stopped at West Taghkanic Diner in upstate New York, where I ordered a fat stack of cornmeal buttermilk pancakes with a side of bacon for lunch. We got back on the road and continued north, watching the landscape become gradually greener and more mountainous. Teo let me drive his car for about 20 minutes until I drove over a curb. Then, he gently reclaimed his place at the wheel. I don’t mind! I’m a grateful passenger, and perfectly happy to read and write and DJ and sip and snack.
I was born in Vermont, which I tell everyone who will listen. It’s the place I most associate with my youth, and the place where I feel held — always. It’s the landscape that speaks to me: mountains that are green up close and purplish blue from a distance, brooks that gurgle like babies, trees that stretch to the sky, rivers that narrow and widen like a woman’s body. I dream of living there someday, but I also love that it’s a sacred sometimes home. The rarity of my visits makes each one extra precious, and I wouldn’t want that to fade.
The impetus for this trip was the 30th anniversary party of our darling family friends Blyth and Charlie Lord. Their daughters Taylor and Eliza came up with the idea deep in the dark pandemic days, and it finally happened this weekend. The Lord family invited all of their closest friends, which (since they’re the Lords) turned out to be around 100 people. :) They hosted an all-day event, beginning with a softball tournament and ending with a dance party. In between, we swam in the pond and sat down for a concert by Andrew Duhon, a folky artist the Lords fell in love with mid-pandemic. John Englander, another dear family friend, opened for Andrew and brought up the Englander and Hummon-Fry families to sing “You Can Close Your Eyes” by James Taylor with him at the end of his set. I hadn’t performed in a long time, and it was healing to step onstage again. I will make singing a meaningful part of my life again. I will I will I will.
It’s no coincidence that my family’s Vermont house is a short drive from the Lords’ property. My parents fell in love with the area upon visiting them, and eventually started renting there every summer before buying a place of their own. Back when we lived in Ohio, we’d make the pilgrimage to Vermont every summer for the whole season. It was a fact of life, and the best stretch of the year. This weekend reminded me of the great privilege of the Green Mountain State and its presence in the story of Phoebe Tomion Fry.
Back to New York we go, and this time I’m planning to stay for a while and allow myself to find a routine.
Sending you lots of love and warmth,
Phoebe
How wonderful! Always enjoy reading your beautiful posts and musings dear Phoebe. Hope your NY routine feels less stressful. My parents are so excited to be visiting in October!
Loved every minute of being, singing, dancing, Vermonting with you!