Covered in glitter and crumbs. Waking up to maracas and fairy wings. Pockets full of rubber bands and dandelions. Buried under book piles. Dirty hands with homemade kombucha. Coffee in the rain. Waiting for that sacred scrap of silence.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Woodstock
Greetings from Woodstock, which is charming as ever. The town is like a little storybook village that has barely changed since the 1960s at the latest. We have been enjoying our strolls through town and exploring the area, as well as hanging out with Grandma Ann.
Vermont is the color of Chris's childhood and he loves telling the kids his stories of this place, of dropping off the rope swing into the river, of the route he took when delivering the local paper. It's very different from how we live now, but it's nice for them to get a sense of another kind of life.
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