Finding Home

I’m not a city girl.

This morning I sat in the Bear Pond Book tent at the Celebrate Vermont festival to sell and sign Peace Cottage. My slot was from 10 to 11 AM and I sold two books to two nice women, one from Vermont and one from Connecticut. This was a high class festival in Stowe, with beautiful blown glass, pottery, textiles, and food. It was hard not to gaze with envy at the displays. I gazed with wonder instead–sort of. I had a good talk with one of the people who works at Bear Pond, and she said my book was the perfect size to sell, not too long, a good price, easy to read, something to tuck in a bag for vacation. I like this description.

Meanwhile, back home, our road is being paved, so it’s very noisy and our cars are stuck for a while, one at the school and one in our driveway. I feel winter-bound, and the sounds from the equipment are driving me crazy. I guess I wouldn’t do very well living in a city.

The leaves are just starting to fall–it’s the middle of August; it’s supposed to be hot, hot summer. 070But around here, it means the beginning of the end. And on that cheerful note, I’m off to put ear plugs in.


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Finding Home


Finding Home

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