Bored in Vermont

My hair-cut girl vacations in Jamaica with her husband.

A 12-year-old girl, daughter of a friend of mine, makes, packages, and distributes healthy dog treats.

I eat lunch most days at a place owned by a young woman, Amy. I love the place. Amy and the crew of Goddesses are uplifting; they serve healthy food.

A farmer and his wife take in foster kids. He says kids are the reason he loves life so.

A girl moved from a small Vermont town to San Francisco to experience living a specific lifestyle, a lifestyle many would call strange. If the many realized they're just as strange, we'd all be the wiser. The girl still loves Vermont a whole lot, but is glad she moved.

A guy in his mid-50s works three days out of seven. He visits his girlfriend in Canada every other week, and has a 58-year-old buddy who retired years ago and is totally content and happy. This friend has one creemee and one Milky Way candy bar each, per week.

A guy won't kill a woodchuck that has lived on his property for four years even though the ground hog has chewed on his front door jam. The other day the woodchuck ran rippling into his hole, about faced, stuck his snout just out the hole and looked at the guy. The guy watched the woodchuck for a long while. He thinks ground hogs are cute.

My cat calls to me to follow her out to the deck. She jumps on the old grayed out Adirondack chair, scratches her nails, and purrs, while I rub all along her back.

It's chilly here as I type this piece, but I will not start a fire.

A middle-aged man hikes Mt. Mansfield, in the winter, in all fashions of weather, with his one and a half year-old daughter attached by harness following behind in a mini-boggin. The baby is swaddled to the nth degree; she's a toasty warm maple scone cuddled in a muffin basket. He'll ski down, she'll follow-look out 2026 Winter Games.

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