Letter from Vermont

Our village of Brandon, Vermont, is home to the largest Independence Day Parade in the State of Vermont.  Besides the marching bands, the bagpipers, the antique cars and fire engines, in even-numbered years (Vermont and New Hampshire retaining that old-fashioned two-year term for governor) the parade also attracts politicians of all types, out and about among the voters.  This July the six chief candidates for governor participated – five energetic Democrats and one comparatively relaxed unopposed Republican.

The parade steps off down Park Street, which has been called “the prettiest street in Vermont” for a number of years now by those who know such things.  Brandon itself was formerly called “the drawing room of New England,” but with fewer and fewer people understanding whether that was in fact a compliment, is now alternately “unhurried, unspoiled, and unforgettable” or “the Art and Soul of Vermont” (a moniker bestowed by Governor Douglas himself, we understand).

While our inn is located outside the village at the Green Mountain National Forest, there are many houses in the village that are quite beautiful, and for some time we had admired one house in particular on Park Street.  Early last spring, we had the opportunity to buy that house for our family.  We had become rather crowded at the inn — what had been comfortable quarters for my wife, myself, and our beloved orange cat when we first came to Vermont soon enough became a bit tight, with two young daughters as well as Olya’s parents, who come for a six-month visit during the summer and fall.

Our new home is a fixer-upper to be sure, but we do love it and are grateful to God for it.  It sits squarely on the parade route, and the parade (including the politicians) passed by as we sat on the front porch and watched with friends and neighbors.  Then, after the parade ended more than an hour later, we watched again as the candidates walked by in the opposite direction to meet their cars and head off to their next event.

Our happiest moment in our still new-to-us house?  Some other time, perhaps.