Tag Archives: #VermontLiteraryFiction

Shape of May

I always imagine Medieval life as so much field around all those storied castles. In May, the Vermont landscape is wide open. The forest aren’t leafed out yet. The bushes are sticks without greenery. The shape of the land is … Continue reading

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Frivolity

My friend of mine mentioned his young baby had begun crying more. Hey, I casually mentioned, babies change.  Isn’t Robert Frost’s line the one real piece of family advice – Life goes on – both through sorrow but also embracing sheer curiosity and … Continue reading

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Vermont Libraries

Yesterday, on my way to a state library conference, I exited I-89 and took a short-cut, trading an urban confluence along the Connecticut River for a winding dirt road. Library conference? Ho-hum, you’d think. Instead, Vermont’s department of libraries is … Continue reading

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Dede’s Book

A day of cold rain, when I think of Janisse Ray’s line: Some days, all day, rain falls.  Driving home, I take a detour and follow the river, swollen threateningly along its banks, grabbing at trees still barren with winter. All … Continue reading

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Primordial Ooze

If there’s one overarching image for springtime in rural Vermont, mud might be it. With this rain, we’re deep in the season now, rutted roads and marshes of mud surrounding the house, bleeding up through melting snow. Come, come, bring … Continue reading

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Squishy Season

‘Tis the season of mud in Vermont. I once had a neighbor (now relocated back to an enormous city) who hated mud. Her daughter and my daughter were both little then, with rubber boots and pink raincoats decorated with kitties, … Continue reading

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Secret Chute

House hunting with my enthusiastic contingent, us adults stood in a dim basement yesterday, so cold we kept swaying from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm. Outside, the children tromped in the snowy yard, warmer in the … Continue reading

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Voting

Less than a hundred years ago, the 19th amendment to the US constitution was ratified on August 18, 1920. Yesterday, my newly-turned 18-year-old daughter registered to vote for the first time. Not that long ago, on town meeting day, this girl … Continue reading

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Lying

I laughed at the utter aptness of the Oxford Dictionary word of the year for 2016 – post-truth – but the word (and this time) reminds me of Ernest Hemingway’s famous iceberg theory of writing, his “theory of omission.” Years … Continue reading

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A Fierce Heart

Years ago, the house we lived in had an enormous King stove, about as ugly as could be with a rust-colored shield. When that stove threw off BTUs, its damper clicked like a mouse in a live trap, rattling. I … Continue reading

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