    |
||
      |
||
    |
||
 |
||
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
|||||||||||||||
| Tuesday May 13, 2008 |
Email This Page To A Friend! |
|
A successful vacation is one where you find exactly what you left town looking for. From the perspectives of both child and adult, places like Billings Farm and Museum, Sugarbush Farm, and the Vermont Raptor Center (all in the Woodstock vicinity), as well as the the Johnson Woolen Mills factory outlet and Vermont Horse Park (in the Johnson area), met our expectations entirely. Frankly, though, my daughter and I are both easily amused. We don't care for crowds too much, and given the chance, we could watch horses and wander around barns almost all day. Just a few more reasons to enjoy northern Vermont, I guess. As my own father used to say, "Look which way the crowd is going, then go the other way." Farm Country Treats
A sharp-eyed five-year-old just beginning to read noticed a "Moo" sticker on the rear door of a pick-up parked outside a complex of 19th-century farm buildings. The white oval with black lettering resembled the "VT" emblem so popular with out-of-towners; I decided right away that the "Moo" must be a droll native response to such frippery. Inside, we met Betsy Luce who was directing a team of cheese cutters and packers, all fulfilling mail orders from around the country for cheese, syrup, and other local treats (Consumer Reports magazine has touted Sugarbush Farm sharp cheddar cheese as a "best bet for your dollar"). A cheese aficianado, Claudia was delighted to sample cubes of the cheddar, as well as "Green Mountain Jack" and hickory-smoked cheese. Later, Betsy Luce cheerfully showed us through the nearby sugar house, where maple tree sap is boiled into syrup in early spring. The ebullient farm owner took a warm interest in my daughter, which made us both feel that we had stopped to visit with a friend, not simply the manager of a tourist attraction. Back inside the farmhouse, Betsy left us in what probably once was a parlor for receiving guests and now was filled with several long tables stacked with open jars of Vermont-made jams, preserves, and fruit butters. We went on a sampling tear, and it became clear early on which was my daughter's favorite: a sweet, sticky and pleasingly spicy pumpkin butter from Hidden Orchard Farm. After a while, she gave up bothering to smear the pumpkin butter on crackers, and just ate it plain. State-of-the-Art Vermont When Betsy Luce's family were struggling to make ends meet at Sugarbush Farms in the late 1940s and early 1950s, they endured the privations of a drafty 100-year-old farmhouse, a dirt road that turned to mud after rain; and the lack of any indoor plumbing.
At the end of the 20th century, Vermont enjoys a reputation for environmentalism that may be directly traced to Billings and Marsh. Their foresighted behavior in restoring and managing Woodstock's natural landscape made it possible for my daughter and I to enjoy a diverting afternoon's activities at the carefully restored Billings Farm, on the edge of the Marsh-Billings Rockefeller National Historical Park. We helped churn butter at the 1890 farmhouse, and were given a thorough "Introduction to Milking" in the Cow Barn. Mostly, though, Claudia enjoyed watching the horses, who wore mesh masks that kept away flies and made the draught animals resemble fencers. Vermonters' concern for the well-being of animals goes beyond horses, of course. At the Vermont Raptor Center, operated by the Vermont Intitute of Natural Science, nearly two dozen species of raptors -- birds of prey ranging from eagles and hawks to falcons and owls -- are displayed. The birds have been rescued after injuring themselves, and cannot be released back to the wild, explained a VINS volunteer who withdrew a tiny saw-whet owl on a gloved hand from a large outdoor cage. My daughter's eyes grew as big as the bird's and when the owl blinked, she blinked, too. The Many Sides of Rural Vermont
The area received its picturesque name during the War of 1812, when smugglers carrying cattle, liquor and other goods made their way from here into British-controlled Canada. Approaching Jeffersonville, the road narrows to about the width of a bowling alley lane, and enormous boulders seemed to have rolled right up to the edge of the pavement. At the Smugglers' Notch Resort, summer seems as popular with families as winter. On a warm August afternoon, we crossed under quad-lift cables to make a tour of a refreshing series of mountainside pools and water recreation facilities, including elaborate waterslides. The combination of exercise and country air proved soporific for us both. Once Claudia was asleep, it wasn't long before I made my own way to bed. With its own convenience market, clothing store, and several restaurants, the Smugglers' Notch resort is all but self-sufficient, as is the custom for snowbound ski resorts. A welcome difference in summer, though, is a twice weekly (Tuesday and Thursday) farmers' market. Thinking ahead to our next stop, I bought a bag of crisp apples from a ruddy-faced Jeffersonville farmer. Claudia looked every part the experienced rider in her acorn-shaped black helmet, but apart from a fairgrounds pony ride, this was her first time on horseback. Once in the saddle atop Sassy, she started to grin broadly and I realized that getting her off again would prove quite challenging. But if Claudia was in no hurry to leave, neither was I. In Johnson, summer ended abruptly as we stepped inside the quiet Johnson Woolen Mills factory store, with walls and racks of blankets, sweaters and jackets in classic Vermont styles. We were obviously ahead of the crowd that could be counted on to fill the store in the leaf-peeping months of September and October. A clerk devoted herself to us, and though it wasn't easy convincing Claudia to try on a heavy, scratchy jacket, I knew it would be worth the trouble in a few months. In the Johnson Woolen Mills factory store, the smells of wool and oiled floorboards had almost seduced me into wishing for chilly weather. Outside again in the heat of the afternoon, though, I was delighted with the current temperature. Johnson, home to a state college, was subdued. At DJ's Deli, a wooden screen door creaked and slammed shut behind us. For refreshment, my daughter chose juice, and along with a sparkling water, I carried to the car a gallon of handmade beer from Johnson's own Rock Art Brewery. The brown glass jug with the Rock Art motif of Kokopelli, a Southwest Indian mythic figure, still sits atop my refrigerator (empty now, of course) as a souvenir. As for my daughter, she still giggles when she remembers how a chipmunk joined us for breakfast.
What To Do Woodstock Vicinity:
In the Nearby Area:
|
|
In the dog days of August, a city kid escapes to the country to breathe
healthy mountain air and enjoy contact with nature. Throw in a refreshing
dip in a swimming hole, and the picture of a summer idyll is complete.
Without stretching the truth terribly far, that scenario pretty well describes
the half week's tour my five-year-old daughter and I enjoyed in northern
Vermont last year. 
Leaving
Route 4 just outside of Woodstock, we crossed the 1836 Taftsville Covered
Bridge over the Ottauquechee River and began to climb north along a narrow,
tree-lined rural lane. Although not at all far from the commercial centers
of Woodstock and nearby Queechee, our surroundings now were quintessential
Yankee farm country. The road terminated at Sugarbush Farm, where
the Luce family have lived and worked for more than 50 years. In this
part of Vermont, even the cars say, "Moo." 
In
1871, Frederick Billings established Billings Farm in Woodstock
in a progressive even sumptuous style that neighbors like the Luces and
their forebears would not enjoy until well into the 20th century. More
than 125 years ago, Billings, a railroad tycoon and pioneer in scientific
farm management, could afford to import cattle directly from the Isle
of Jersey, as well as install state-of-the-art creamery equipment. He
also planted more than 10,000 trees on Mt. Tom and the surrounding hills,
carrying out the reforestation ideas of George Parkins Marsh, a previous
owner of Billings' own Vermont farmland and author of Man and Nature,
an influential tome on ecology.
Next
morning, we ate fresh-baked muffins from the Queechee Inn breakfast
buffet and watched with glee as a chipmunk scampered through an open porch
door to scarf down our crumbs. From Queechee, we headed north to Stowe.
After a hamburger and milkshake in the "50s style Depot Street Malt
Shoppe near the Post Office, we hopped off the swiveling lunch counter
stools and continued up the Route 108 Mountain Road through Smugglers'
Notch. 
The
Cox's Pippins came in handy at nearby Vermont Horse Park, located
directly across the highway from Smugglers. I cut them in half, then my
daughter and I took turns holding out our open palms so "Sassy" could
snatch the apples away from us. 