When we were growing up, hiking the mountain and walking the many trails, we occasionally collected large tree funguses - Artist’s Conks, the "canvas of the forest." It is shelf like and has a hard brown upper part and a soft, white underside which darkens when marked on. These became common places for us to record special events - hikes, illustrations  and historic events of that time. So we have a collection of dried fungus on a shelf in the living room. One documents the

It's been a quiet year wind wise... a consistent consideration when one lives on the western slopes of the Green Mountains. With down-sloping winds, winter storms have left a long history of damage. And one is not to forget unlikely, but possible, hurricanes that come up the eastern seaboard. The most damage we have ever gotten in our ownership of Squabetty was the early September 1940 hurricane when the barn roof caved in/flew off. While we doubt that will happen again, we h

It has come to my attention, that my blog post about the Bogue School, was timely indeed. Word on the street is that the old school house is to be torn down this summer. Another piece of history vanishing.

The Bogue School, 1857 Wallings Map The Old Schools, PART TWO Ever wonder about those old schools? The families and kiddos had vastly different experiences than today’s world. Running water and plumbing did NOT exist. Privies for boys and girls were used. Heat was by a wood stove, which left you hot if you were near it, but cold on the other side of the room.  By the early 1900’s Vermont rules stated that all children age 8-15 MUST attend school. Children over the age of 12 c

The Bogue School 1844-1920...still standing Located on Pleasant Valley Road, near the intersection of Deane Road, the Bogue School was in use from 1844-1920 and had a large attendance. In 1845, 76 students attended–boys for 3 months during the winter and girls for 3 months in the summer. This was a “fractional school” as children from nearby Cambridge attended as well as Underhill students. The building was used for various community functions, including a dancing school in

Our mailbox is large, old and dilapidated. It’s at the end of the drive - some 1.65 miles from the house. When my aunt spent summers at Squabetty back in the 70s and 80s, her mail was forwarded and she used the mailbox regularly. Not so much anymore.  In those days, we had a Cambridge address. We look in the old box about once a year - and retrieve phone books and flyers that were left there months ago. The spiders like the shelter, safety and peace. It was much to our surpri

The Pleasant Valley Cemetery is at the bottom of Deane Road. It is where I want to be buried – knowing this land and mountain which is so dear to my heart will be near me forever is of great comfort. My mother and father, and Aunt Ginnie are there. I sit with them periodically throughout the year. And even when I don’t stop and walk in, I say a few things to them as I drive by.  The cemetery has old, old stones. The land was first deeded by the Shanley family in 1813. Some ar

Running to the sea... The seasons change and the beauty of this place changes as well. Draped in blankets of snow, it soaks in the southern sun when it decides to appear. The sun sets in a totally different place; the long shadows at 4 in the afternoon remind me of the short days of winter, even though that too is changing.  It’s bitter cold, still and silent, until you get to the bridge and you can still hear it…a whisper on its way to the ocean. Still moving, heading down a

This isn't a new phenomenon, this watching out for others, which I wrote about in my January 30th blog.  Decades ago, in 1975, a neighbor out for a ski,  reported to our caretaker Roger, that smoke was coming from the chimney at Squabetty. He knew we weren't in residence. The next morning, in the very early morning darkness, Roger snowshoed up to the house through the woods. He crept in, found chopped up furniture by the fireplace, the place definitely “lived in.” . He crept

Like so many in northern Vermont, she hibernates, biding her time for warmer days and the buzz of activity. Today, all is still and quiet, save for the chickadee calling. The sun gathers height with each day…the winter equinox behind us. The sun warms the stone patio, slowly melts the icicles and loosens the snow on the roof panels, so it slides down and plops on the stairs and the flower beds. For us, the late fall and winter is the season of planning. We think about openin

Every time I hike, snowshoe, or ski up to Squabetty in the winter, I go foremost to see my old friend. I miss her. I check to make sure she’s doing okay in the snow, ice and wind that Mother Nature throws our way. Sometimes it’s a bluebird sky and there is no better place to be. I check the house, the barn, the sauna and other outside spaces. I looking at windows, screens, siding, and the chimney. I look for the note my twin brother left me in the window of their workshop yea

Moonrise over Mt. Mansfield Squabetty is a unique wedding venue, especially suited for the outdoorsy kind of folks. We know this. There are no limits to how one wants the day or night to transpire. Some people plan pretty traditional weddings and receptions. But others take the day (or week)  to a whole other level. One adventurous couple this fall ‘took the path less traveled by’… “ We spent the whole week there, connecting with friends and family for several days before hav

It never ceases to amaze me when this huge world we live in, with billions of people, that serendipity still happens. A couple were married at Squabetty last September. They booked almost two years ago. There was the normal back and forth emails as the date approached. About a week before the wedding the groom asked us if we happened to be related to Mary McLane, who lived in Acton, Mass. Indeed, we were: she was our aunt who lived in a co-housing community in the late 1990s

One aspect of owning land is being a good steward of that gift. We have had a forestry plan for as long as I can remember, making sure we were taking care of the tract for the health of the flora and fauna. For me, this land is my church. I often hug the trees and speak quiet thanks as I walk the trails and bushwack through the woods. I thank the animals for sharing their home with us. I feel honored and blessed. When the Emerald Ash Borer was found in Michigan in 2002, it wa

Of all the times of year, I love being at Squabetty in the autumn the best. Of course it brings back fond memories of falls past:...

The night before my wedding at Squabetty, we had a square dance, as was an annual tradition in our family, in the barn. My parents hired...

Part 3 (of 3).  We bought Squabetty in 1931 with no intention of moving in then. The house was not habitable. We came quite often from...

Part 2 (of 4)  We took the night train from Grand Central to Essex Junction, where the Shannons met us, 5:30 am, en route - this trip or...

So this is how we came to Vermont. Part 1 (of 4): (written by Virginia S. Deane, our aunt, in 1987) After spending the summers of 1926-28...

Prologue to Part 1 of 4 (to come in the next 4 weeks), written on 1/27/24: We have to be thankful to the Shannons' Boarding House which...