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Vermont and Back

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Vermont and Back

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

One of the places I wanted most to visit some day was the State of Vermont. The opportunity came when my daughter, Janet, and her family moved there. I traveled with her to Bennington to spend a few days. My daughter’s home was near a ski area in the mountains. From there we drove to a high peak, and there we were shown a breathtaking panoramic view which included three contiguous states.

Vermont is pleasing to the eye with its neatness. Streams and numerous small waterfalls flow over a base of white rock wherever you look. White homes and churches nestled in the green-clad mountains present a serene beauty. Life appeared to be slower there, a pace not driven by the fast mania of many other places. In the autumn, the tree colors are vivid, but different from our own in western New York State. The tourists who travel to observe this beauty are called “leaf peekers.” Any people who have retired to Vermont have found successful small businesses there, after wondering how they would stay occupied.

Janet took me to various parts of the state. Vermont is famous for its large homes, some built when the country was first being settled. They were amazingly well kept and in good repair. We saw large farms, endless green fields, and hills with cattle grazing. Some of the larger homes seemed like two homes built together, or a house with a large barn attached. I understand that this was done because of the severe winter weather. In this way, they could go through from one building into the other to stay more comfortable without going outside.

In Manchester, we stopped at a shop that carried only dolls and doll houses of every kind imaginable. Then we drove across an odd-appearing country bridge with artfully designed rails, to the community library. There a small corner nook caught my eye. It contained a large window with a view overlooking a small waterfall and comfortable chairs to sit in and read while listening to the cheerful sounds of the babbling brook. Next was a stop at a clock store. Upon entering, we were bombarded with the ticking of clocks that lined the walls of the store. What an amazing scene – so interesting. The attendant told us that every morning he went through the store winding each one, an all-morning duty.

All too soon the visit came to an end. Janet drove me to the bus terminal where I boarded the bus for home. After a 10-hour trip, I was still exhilarated, but so glad to set my luggage down inside the front door of my own home.

(For more short stories by ANGIE, click HERE)

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Lazy Day Destinations – Mill Creek to “Bubbling Springs”

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Lazy Day Destinations – Mill Creek to “Bubbling Springs”

 James R. Aist

Growing up in rural Arkansas left me with many fond memories of favorite places, especially when it was summer vacation and I could just pick up and go by myself, or with a friend or two, on a hot, lazy summer afternoon.

When I was around 12 years old and my family lived in Evening Shade (the real one, population 315, not the fictional one on the TV sit-com), one of my favorite places was “Joe Rock.” Just across Highway 11 from Evening Shade, and about a ten minute walk down a winding farm road, was Piney Creek, which ran clear in the summer until the dog days of August set in. If you made a right turn when you reached Piney Creek and followed along the creek bank for maybe 150 yards or so, you came to Joe Rock. Now Joe Rock was usually the target destination whenever we followed that path to Piney Creek, because it was a nice, private swimming hole (click HERE). But there were a couple of other favorite places to visit farther down the creek.

If you went down Piney Creek past Joe Rock for another 150 yards or so, then you came to the place where Mill Creek flowed into Piney Creek from the right. Now, Mill Creek was a really, really cold creek, which in the heat of summer felt great, if you darted into its path and then, just as quickly, darted back into the warm waters of Piney Creek. For the longest time we wondered why Mill Creek was so cold; nobody seemed to know. That is, until one day we decided to explore Mill Creek upstream to see if we could find where it came from. To do that, it was necessary to walk along beside the creek, because, after about 30 seconds in that cold water, one’s bare feet began to feel numb! Well, we must have walked a mile or two when we came upon an unexpected, but familiar, sight that explained why the waters of Mill Creek were so cold: A natural wonder that I call “Bubbling Springs” (presently “Evening Shade Town Spring”, now with a spring house – see photo at upper right).

We were already familiar with “Bubbling Springs”, having visited there several times by bicycle or automobile; it was off of Highway 11, just a little south of Evening Shade. But this was the first time that we had connected “Bubbling Springs” with Mill Creek. Now, “Bubbling Springs” was a minor tourist attraction in the immediate area and a favorite place to fill water jugs with naturally chilled drinking water. It was also a fascinating place to play and collect pretty, polished stones. You see, this was no ordinary artesian spring. No, this spring emerged from the ground, over a large area, as dozens of bubbling, crystal-clear springs that shot up 4-8 inches above the water level, pushing up beautiful, highly polished stones along with the water. The stones were kept in a continuous cycle of bubbling up and then falling back into the springs, and then bubbling up again, etc. The sound of all of those stones crashing into one another as they rose and fell in the springs was impressive, to put it mildly. This was nature’s “stone polisher” on steroids! The “floor” of the entire spring area was covered with these very colorful polished stones, and I still have a few of them from my personal collection.

“Bubbling Springs” was always a fascinating place to visit, especially on a hot summer afternoon, when we could enjoy wading around in the chilly, churning “spring field” until our feet were numb. And from that time on, every time we walked down Piney Creek to Mill Creek, we were reminded of “Bubbling Springs”, the amazing — but no longer mysterious — source of its frigid waters.

(For more TRUE TALES, click HERE)

Evening Shade Town Spring

Evening Shade Town Spring

Caption – The photo to the right shows a spring house built by the town of Evening Shade to house some of the “bubbling springs” and provide safe drinking water for the residents.  The water runs out of a grating at the bottom of a set of cement steps. Of course, this developed facility was not there when I was. At that time, there was only a level, mowed field bordering the field of springs, which is located to the left of this photograph.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Friends

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Friends

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

I was finishing after-supper chores one day, when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find a little girl, about nine years old, with an impish grin on her face. “Can I use your phone?” she asked. “Sure,” I replied, realizing that she was one of the children who had recently moved in next door. The next day, about the same time, she came again. This time, she said, “I came to visit.” After explaining that I couldn’t visit right then, she left. This did not discourage her. The third time, she came to use the phone again. I sensed this was going to be a daily routine, so I said, “only in emergencies.”

A few days later, she burst into the kitchen without knocking. Holding up her hand, she said, “An emergency; do you have a band-aid?” I promptly got one, as I could see a small trickle of red oozing out of the palm of her hand. I fastened the band-aid on the cut. She thanked me, gave me a slight hug and left. Her conversations were always short and sweet.

I didn’t see her again until several days later. She was on her way to our back door, but before I could get there, I saw her mother following and taking her by the hand, and ushering her back home. That told me she was coming over without permission. She was like a puppy or kitten, always returning after interruptions in between. By this time, I had much love and compassion for Daisy. It was the quiet way she had of appearing out of nowhere, plus the smile on her, usually soiled, face that got to me.

We were having our evening meal on the porch one day, when she emerged again, this time with a gray and white kitten to show us. I asked her how many they had. She said, “Tons and tons.” Skipping away, she came back with a dish of ice cream and a spoon and sat down at the table to eat it. Believing that she wanted to eat with us, I offered her a muffin, which she gladly accepted. Upon finishing that and her ice cream, she left.

Later, while I was in the garden, she called me to come over and see her kittens. Her two sisters and three brothers were also waiting as I walked over. They directed me to an unused vehicle in the yard. There, on the inside, were many cats. “Tons,” as she said, of all shapes and sizes. That explained why I was seeing so many cats in the neighborhood lately! They were climbing over the seats and the instruments. The children were having the joy that only an animal pet can bring. Babbling all at once, the children proceeded to tell me which kittens belonged to which mothers.

A few months later, when I told Daisy we were moving, she seemed disappointed. She sat quietly for a moment, and I knew she was thinking. Then off she scampered. As she returned and handed me a single, pink rosebud, the loving expression on her face revealed it all: “Thank you for being my friend.”

(For more  short stories by Angie Brown, click HERE)

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Lazy Day Destinations – Joe Rock

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Lazy Day Destinations – Joe Rock

 James R. Aist

Growing up in rural Arkansas left me with many fond memories of favorite places, especially when it was summer vacation and I could just pick up and go by myself, or with a friend or two, on a hot, lazy summer afternoon.

When I was around 12 years old and my family lived in Evening Shade (the real one, population 315 at the time, not the fictional one on the TV sit-com), one of my favorite places was “Joe Rock.” Just across Highway 11 from our home in Evening Shade, and about a ten minute walk down a winding farm road (see photo at upper right), was Piney Creek, which ran clear and warm in the summer until the dog days of August set in (During dog days, clumps of dead, brown algae would rise from the creek bottom and float down stream, making the water less appealing). If you made a right turn when you reached Piney Creek and followed along the creek bank for maybe 50 yards or so, you came to Joe Rock. Now Joe Rock was a real rock of rather large proportions (perhaps 5-6 feet across and rising above the water line about 3 feet) that was just sitting there in Piney Creek with water swirling all around it. Joe Rock was the sight of an inviting swimming hole, because, over the years, the water current had carved out a depression in the creek bottom around the rock, and the water around Joe Rock was about 3-4 feet deep, suitable for shallow diving from atop this solitary boulder. From the bank, Joe Rock looked like you might expect any large, over-sized rock to look, but it was no ordinary rock. Under the water, hidden from view, were three “legs” that extended down in tri-pod fashion from Joe Rock, keeping it suspended above the creek bottom about a foot or so. I’ve never seen anything like it.

This unique feature conferred a fascination on Joe Rock that added to the excitement of each visit. We enjoyed donning swimming goggles, “diving” down, swimming underwater around Joe Rock and peeking between its “legs” at each other. And that’s how I discovered that there were often one or two large-mouth bass lurking around and between the “legs” of Joe Rock, using it as cover.

Well, one day I decided it would be fun to see if I could spear one of those bass and take it home for dinner. So, the next time I left the house and set out for Joe Rock, I snuck a cooking fork from a kitchen drawer and fully intended to impale one of the bass on it. And sure enough, when I got to Joe Rock and slipped into the water, there were two unsuspecting bass just swimming lazily in and out around the “legs” of the rock. I took a deep breath, slowly submerged myself under the water and stealthily approached my prey so as not to spook them. After a few tries, I finally got close enough to one of the bass to make my move. With all my 12-year old might, I thrust the fork violently toward the unsuspecting entrée, but, alas, the fork just brushed him aside without even leaving a mark. That’s when I realized that one’s arm can move a lot faster through air than through water; I just wasn’t able to generate the fork speed required to pierce the elusive prey.

I’ll admit I was a bit disappointed that I would have to return from my fishing expedition empty handed, but I didn’t let that minor setback keep me from enjoying the rest of my swim. After all, the bass did make each visit to Joe Rock that much more exciting, so why not just leave them be, for everyone to enjoy? And so I did, and they did.

(For more TRUE TALES, click HERE)