Author Archives: Brett Ann Stanciu

About Brett Ann Stanciu

A writer and sugarmaker, Brett Ann lives with her two daughters in stony soil Vermont. Her novel HIDDEN VIEW was published by Green Writers Press in the fall of 2015. Let my writing speak for itself.


In the midst of surely what will be known in American history as a lousy time, Bernie Sanders inadvertently made knitting cool. When my youngest daughter was a toddler, one winter I cracked open a knitting book my mother had … Continue reading

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Border Crossings

On inauguration eve, I dream of wandering through my childhood hometown and wake thinking of the November morning four years when I woke early and realized I would have to tell my daughters that Donald Trump won the presidency. Four … Continue reading

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Getting With The Program…

A few days of snow and rain and slush and scattered sunlight — mid-January in Vermont when the snow-heavy woods are enchanting. Again, drinking coffee in our Subaru while my youngest daughter drives. These mid-winter days are wound through with … Continue reading

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Strangers’ Laughter

I step out of our house just after sunset, and a crescent moon hangs over the road — a silent slice of gleaming beauty in a dark blue sky. By then, I’ve been on a school board call for hours, … Continue reading

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Talking with Strangers

Yesterday, I was on the phone at work, talking with a woman I had never met who was helping me unravel a work question. She paused suddenly and mentioned that she could hear the governor’s Tuesday press conference on the … Continue reading

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Sunday, Sun, Reassessing

After a terrible week, my daughter heads to ski with a friend. Because of the pandemic, she doesn’t catch a ride with the friend. Because my daughter is 15, I’m the designated adult — for what that’s worth — in … Continue reading

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The Way Forward

Skiing along the former railroad bed in the late afternoon, I meet a fellow skier — a man wearing a gray knit hat who’s retired now from the local high school. In one connection or another, I’ve known him since … Continue reading

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The 16th American President Said…

“I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.” — Abraham Lincoln

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Often after the new year, the cold hammers down in Vermont, like a nail gun, sealing the human world except for well-bundled expeditions. The coldest I’ve seen is 40 below zero; mist moved ghost-like over the river, creeping over the … Continue reading

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Snow, Saturday, Living in History

Saturday morning, we wake to a snowfall — gorgeous fat flakes swirling down — the kind of sparkling snow that miraculously turns the world brand-new and utterly beautiful. In early afternoon when I return from work, the girls have shoveled … Continue reading

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