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No matter where you are in Vermont, there are barns.
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And if you’re traveling with my husband, there is envy.
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Because no matter how much he improves his own Barn Mahal/ man cave, somewhere someone has done more.
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This barn had an apartment.
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This barn was haunted. It’s hard to top that.
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The white barn didn’t really look like a barn, but it was.
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Barns with cows…
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And barns without cows. He loves them all.
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And so after a spur of the moment, last minute mini getaway… we headed home. Wishing we could stay longer and see Vermont’s foliage at its peak.
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Leaving the little town of Jeffersonville we passed what’s become a landmark.
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An artfully painted silo celebrating the area’s agricultural roots.
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We said goodbye to cows. (Alright, that was me. The husband grew up milking them and couldn’t care less)
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Did I mention there are a lot of cows in Vermont?
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There’s also a lot of corn.
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So much corn.
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Seriously, the stuff is everywhere.
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Fortified with a wonderful meal, we continued our aimless wandering through Vermont.
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It’s hard to take a bad photo there, especially in the fall. Mountains, trees, and cows.
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Mountains, cows, and farms.
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Every once in a while you’ll pass through a town.
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Then it’s back to mountains, trees, and cows.
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And a very serious porch lover.
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Also, there were fish.
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I have no explanation for random fish, but they were delightful all the same.
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At times Vermont feels like another world. The pace is slower, the air is cleaner and we didn’t see a single McDonalds or Dollar General the whole time we were there. Talk about refreshing.
The residents are independent, hardy New England stock and while that might be off putting to some, it just means you have to dig a little deeper to find the sense of humor lurking beneath.
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Like this farm store where they welcome you with pumpkins..
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And provide some interesting alternative modes of transportation.
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Think Santa’s sleigh… but with cows.
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Everywhere we looked? Something made me laugh.
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Good to know. Thanks.
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Yes, it’s a trash can.
Nothing funny there, but…
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A trash can you’re not supposed to use? Funny.
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Nothing funny about the subject, but I laughed all the same.
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I really wanted to buy this tee shirt. But apparently so did everyone else because there was only one left, size extra small… and to be honest I doubt I was even born that size.
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Vermont is a predominantly rural state. It wouldn’t surprise me if the cows outnumber the people, and that’s fine by me. In this rural landscape, you’ll see barns.
Lots and lots of barns.
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Red barns.
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Brown barns.
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Barns with cows outside.
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And barns with cows inside.
My husband was positively beside himself the whole time we were there. Every time we’d pass an old, slightly neglected looking barn he’d mumble about getting inside and poking around for old tools and treasure. Thankfully I managed to restrain him before he was arrested for trespassing, but the dreaming over what might be inside continued… until it reached its peak here.
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A round, and extremely well cared for barn.
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Attached to a large farm house which turned out to be a lovely inn, he was besotted.
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It was all I could do to keep him in the car.
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Admittedly it was a beautiful thing, but not the type of place that would take kindly to random strangers poking around unsupervised.
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Now that’s what I call the perfect mailbox.
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Because we could all use a bit more of that these days.
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Maybe not, but it looks like a lot more fun.
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I’m confused. In my glory days my breasts looked nothing like a cow….
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And by now? My tolerance is pretty high.
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If he’s like me, it’s the fact that your sentence ends with a preposition.
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In Maine, things can be a little different.
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But a definitely good kind of different.
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I lobbied hard for this cute little piggy joining the Casa River family ( for pure blog fodder alone, he’s golden ) but was met with a resounding no from the husband.
Sorry Wilbur.
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Mysteriously multiplying tin cows?
I really do love my town.
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Since hugging friends and family has been a definite no no for the past year, I’m offering an alternative.
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Bovine cuddles!
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I wish I’d known about this when we were in Arizona. Giving a cow a belly rub has to be better than the 3 days I spent in bed with altitude sickness. And in case you didn’t know, this is apparently a trend. Shortly after I read that article I found the following on my town’s Facebook page.
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I may not have to travel after all.
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No cows were available, but the goats are booked solid. Who knew livestock was so lovable….
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In the continuing series Small Town Life Be Different…. here are the latest missives from mine.
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This was so sweet. Our local UPS man… who distributes doggie treats on his route… is in the hospital with pneumonia, so all his four legged customers posted pictures.
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Because traffic alerts in the country are less about speeding and more about manure.
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Every year the women of the Historical Society sew a quilt with local scenes to be auctioned off.
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The Town Office bought the first one where it still hangs proudly.
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Yes, I showed this to the husband. And no, he hasn’t removed his absolutely no chickens ban.
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Yikes. Critters that crawl under your house and die are the worst. But I can’t say I’ve ever known one to stink of garlic. And speaking of stinking…
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Word to the wise… if you think it’s your year? It most definitely is. 🤢
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As he predicted, this man’s post got a whole lotta hate. He’s new to the area… and I’m guessing he isn’t going to be very popular. Buying a house in a rural part of Maine means generations of the previous owners might still be inhabiting your back 40. A man up the road from us has a cemetery from the late 1700’s on his land. He doesn’t know the family or their descendants, but lovingly cares for the plot all the same. It’s called respect.
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Because I’m still trying to find the humor in this shit show.
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They did. They really did…
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I feel like that’s actually happening. Not airborne bovines, but the decided lack of amazement. After surviving 2020? Nothing will faze me.
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This makes a morbid kind of sense.
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Uh oh.
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Wish me luck!
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I’m afraid I’m already there…
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River's world..... 