When the temperature climbs into the low nineties and the sun beats down from a cloudless Vermont sky, the temptation to cool off can be irresistible. Who hasn’t wanted to plunge into a lake or river on a sweltering summer day? From a rope swing, a floating dock, or simply wading into cool water from a hot shoreline, swimming holes have long been part of New England summers.

In Quechee, that tradition has taken on a life of its own.

Climbing the rocks under the Quechee Covered Bridge

When school is out and the mercury rises, it is not unusual to find people stretched across the sun-warmed rocks down-river from the Quechee Covered Bridge, picnicking, swimming, and wading into the Ottaquechee River. Others seek a bigger thrill, launching themselves from the bridge or nearby rocks into the dark pool below — to the delight, shock, or horror of those watching.

Is it a community rite of passage? An easy way to beat the heat? Or a ticket to serious injury?

Guests dining at the nearby Simon Pearce restaurant have occasionally asked staff to call the police after witnessing people jump from the bridge, fearing someone was about to be killed. Restaurant employees, familiar with the local tradition, have politely declined.

On the hot Fourth of July weekend, the river was packed, with parking at a premium. Young and not so young made their way to leap from the base of the covered bridge, from the rocks rimming the swimming hole, and from a rope swing hanging beneath the bridge. Laughter echoed off the granite riverbank boulders as friends counted down, cameras rolled, and one jumper after another splashed into the cool water below.

Everyone was having fun. Some had parental permission. Some undoubtedly did not. Others, being adults, accepted responsibility for their own decisions. On this day, everyone climbed out of the river smiling.

People disagree on exactly how high the bridge is because river levels and jumping points vary, but estimates generally range from 30 to 45 feet above the water — roughly the height of a three- to four-story building.

“It almost feels like a tradition that’s passed from one generation to the next,” said one longtime Upper Valley resident. “Your parents tell you about it, your older brothers and sisters did it, and eventually you decide you’re going to try it yourself.”

Ascending the rock face

For many families, that tradition comes with rules.

Janis Boulbol of Woodstock said she often serves as chauffeur for her teenage children and their friends.

“I lay down the law in advance,” she said. “I tell them exactly what they may and may not do.”

Jumping from the bridge abutment or the rocks is permitted, she said.

“But absolutely no flips.”

The lagoon beneath the bridge, at the base of the falls, appears deceptively narrow but is surprisingly deep.

“It’s 15 to 20 feet deep,” added a nearby father watching the activity. “I’ve jumped there a thousand times and never hit bottom.”

Still, experienced locals are quick to point out that familiarity should never be mistaken for certainty.

The Ottaquechee River conditions are constantly changing

“This river changes every day,” Boulbol said. “Last night we had a big storm. A lot of water could have moved boulders, laid trees in the river — who knows what’s down there? It’s absolutely necessary to assess the area first.”

Nearby resident Brian, of Norwich, had brought his girlfriend, Bridgit, to experience the jump for the first time.

“Today there’s a lot more water than yesterday,” he said. “I didn’t know if we’d be able to jump after last night’s rain.”

Some regulars dive beneath the surface before anyone jumps, checking for submerged trees, rocks, or debris that may have washed into the pool overnight. It’s an unwritten safety ritual born from experience.

Unlike a swimming pool, the Ottaquechee River is constantly changing. Heavy rains can move boulders, shift gravel bars, or deposit submerged logs where none existed before. A landing area that was safe one summer may not be safe the next — or even the next day.

Emergency responders know those dangers all too well. While no documented fatalities have been linked specifically to recreational jumping from the covered bridge, serious injuries have occurred, including a teenager who struck a submerged rock after jumping into the river several years ago.

Hartford Fire Chief Scott Cooney shared that Fire-Rescue responds to approximately one call per year at the Quechee Covered Bridge. “These are not always related specifically to bridge jumping, but they do involve injuries to individuals using that location for recreation,” he said. He emphasized that there is an inherent level of risk with any outdoor activity. The Hartford Fire Department is prepared to respond with an ambulance and rescue truck, and skilled staff to safely administer care and perform carry-out from the site.

Quechee Falls Park, technically a small scenic overlook beside the Simon Pearce Dam, was designed to give visitors a postcard view of one of Vermont’s iconic covered bridges. The steep descent over boulders to the river below is not a maintained public access trail.

Hartford Parks and Recreation Director Scott Hausler emphasized that the park was never intended as an entrance to the river or a jumping platform.

Jumping into the river has become a Quechee tradition.

Hartford Police Information Officer Lt. Will Furnari said officers receive three to six calls each year involving incidents in the area, though not all are related to swimmers or jumpers.

He acknowledged the risks but noted that people — “mostly younger people” — have been jumping there “for as long as I can remember.”

The Hartford Police and Fire Departments have produced a water safety video, posted on the Fire Department’s Facebook page, encouraging swimmers to recognize changing river conditions and understand the hazards before entering the water.

One Hartford police officer perhaps summed up the local attitude best.

“It’s not illegal to jump,” he said with a shrug. “And it’s not illegal to be stupid.”

As the afternoon sun begins to sink behind the hills, the crowds slowly disappear. Towels are gathered, picnic coolers packed away, and the laughter fades into the steady sound of rushing water. The Quechee Covered Bridge remains, its weathered timbers glowing in the evening light.

Tomorrow, if the weather stays hot, another group of swimmers will arrive. Some will come simply to admire one of Vermont’s most photographed landmarks. Others will edge to the railing or the base of the bridge, glance once more at the river below, take a deep breath, and leap into a summer tradition that has endured for generations.

Soon, some residents you know will become celebrities, and local haunts you love will become recognizable to those from different areas of the world, all because the Upper Valley will soon grace the silver screen. JAM (Junction Arts & Media) is making its first feature-length film, Valley Transit, about an intergenerational relationship that occurs on a bus.

The nonprofit community-building organization has served Norwich, Hartford, Hartland, Hanover, and Lebanon for the last five years. JAM helps residents work their way into roles in the film industry and supports those with big ideas, but even still, their newest project is one of their most community-focused to date. A grassroots-funded film featuring local businesses and organizations, Valley Transit will be an opportunity for new filmmakers to learn about the world of filmmaking on set.

Cast table reading with Noah Schutzius (playing “Woody”), Samantha Davidson Green (writer and director,
second from left), Bailey Burcham (playing “bartender”), and Chelsea Cassady (playing “Señora Midory”).

This ambitious goal first came about last year in the fall when JAM decided to “[raise] the quality bar of media production in [the] area,” says Executive Director Samantha Davidson Green. As the director and writer of Valley Transit, Green’s goal was to tell a “quintessential Upper Valley [story] about what it’s like to come of age…and what it’s like to age here.”

Green noted that the story’s inspiration came from the “unusual mixing of generations” JAM has as a community resource, as it provides programs for both younger and older demographics. Over the next month, Green developed the project into a full-fledged script, which was further workshopped during the White River Indie Films Festival with a community table read and staff feedback.

Many signs showed this was the right time for the film to be made. First, last fall, film producer Wei Dai had recently moved from Los Angeles to the area. Though Dai was looking to apply for another job on JAM’s board for media coverage, by spring, he was brought on by Green to produce the project. Additionally, JAM found cinematographer Quinn Thomashow, who grew up in Stratford and came back from LA to help. Then, JAM also received a grant from the Panavision New Filmmaker Grant Program on June 1, allowing the team to film Valley Transit on high-quality Panavision film, which Green believes “will give everyone a higher quality learning experience and results in the film.”

Production designer Cedar O’Dowd leading puppet and prop making.

From the beginning, the entire project has had the Upper Valley community in mind. When JAM hosted the community table read, the organization invited Upper Valley residents interested in reading parts to attend. In addition, JAM also encouraged those attending to complete paper surveys for feedback. Also, JAM held a brief discussion to take comments and have conversations, because although the film is a comedy, Green said it “does tackle, in a gentle way, some of the culture divides around political points of view” and expresses that “the spirit of the story is very much about bringing people together” across those rifts.

Many different types of locations are featured within Valley Transit to show the burgeoning diversity of the Upper Valley. The shooting plan included the Lebanon Salt Hill Pub, Shyrl’s Diner, Dan and Whit’s, the Lebanon Opera House, the Norwich Fair, Hanover Food Co-op, Lyman Bridge, the American Legion in Windsor, and of course, the Advanced Transit Bus System, the catalyst for the entire film. Local musicians will also contribute to the film’s soundtrack, including Norwich resident Hans Williams and Hanover resident Sir Babygirl. Some will even be on camera, like folk/bluegrass musicians Jakob Breitbach, Jes Raymond, and Allison Faye Brown.

Valley Transit, Green explained, provides a “real resume item and a real IMDb credit if any of these folks end up wanting to continue to do this work.” She says that the 15 high school and college interns working on this project have real responsibilities, including directing, casting, and filming. Because of higher stakes, participants will be held accountable to “reach for the highest quality bar we can achieve.”

Crew, interns, and cast at the HCC Block Party: Liam Kelly-Thompson (2nd Assistant Director),Brooklyn Gramling
(SFFI intern), Adelaide Jones (SFFI intern), Noah Schutzius (playing “Woody”), and Reeve Green ( playing “Drew”).

Fundraising efforts also came from the community, including residents, the nonprofit Jack and Dorothy Byrne Foundation, and corporations like Mascoma Bank. The project has raised $267,311 to date, 89% of its $299,858 goal. Green said the organization has raised enough to “cover all of [their] commitments for production,” and they are working on raising the last bit to cover post-production. Many businesses and residents have also offered their locations or residencies, and Northern Stage and North Country Community Theater (NCCT) are sharing a selection of costumes.

Dai explained that Valley Transit’s plan is in flux, depending on how production progresses. The current schedule (at press time for this publication) was to film over a month, beginning on July 18 and ending on August 16. Post-production would take another five or six months, which Dai said is a “conservative” estimate. After that, JAM will submit Valley Transit to film festivals. Dai noted that a lot of these festivals have requirements on the premiere status of the film, meaning you can’t screen it publicly until they host the festival. Dai said it will be in local theaters about a year and a half from now.

Richard Noble (playing “George”) and Alicia Sanyal (playing “Lizzie”).

Green and Dai explained how important the film is to highlight the Upper Valley’s unique community and culture as a lens for seeing the world at large. Dai said that though he’s not originally from the area, he hopes the project will help people see that they should support the local businesses and meet more people.

Green hopes Valley Transit will resonate for local audiences, allowing them to see the Upper Valley differently while also feeling a sense of pride and appreciation. Additionally, she hopes that the film will “convey something about the heart of our community out into the world for outside audiences who’ve never been here and may or may not [know] about the Upper Valley.”

For those who want to help support this exciting community project, Green said Valley Transit is still open to accepting donations.
To make a donation, visit givebutter.com/jam-summer-feature-film-intensive-2026-ooh4fo

Most Upper Valley residents are familiar with Quechee Gorge, a majestic natural wonder carved out by the Ottauquechee River, and at 165 feet, the deepest natural gorge in the state. Ottauquechee means “swift mountain stream,” a name likely bestowed by the Abenaki people who first settled along the river.
The village of Quechee is one of five in the town of Hartford, but it has become an attractive tourist destination, not only because of the gorge and the state park, but for attractions like the restored covered bridge leading into the village, popular restaurants, diverse shops, and many outdoor recreation activities.
The gorge is also home to the Quechee Gorge Visitor Center and the Hartford Area Chamber of Commerce, operating in partnership with Vermont State Parks, which operates the nearby Quechee State Park, and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, which owns the 612-acre park and the building that houses the visitor center. Buzzing with activity seven days a week, the visitor center is a popular stop for tourists and locals who want to hike down to the dramatic gorge or view it from the adjacent bridge. According to the Vermont Tourism Office, the Quechee Gorge Visitor Center receives about 100,000 visitors each year.

The center in the fall.

The staff at the visitor center are already serving visitors from around the world, according to Nikki Bacon, the newest staff member at the center. “Already this year we’ve had visitors from 49 countries — the Congo, Austria, Pakistan, and people from countries all over Europe.” Most visitors who come through speak English, so the staff is able to share information and communicate effectively about the opportunities and attractions in the area. Among the most common questions the staff receives are “Where is the gorge?” and “How do we get to the gorge?” “Do we have to hike or can we use the bridge walkway?” The staff encourages visitors to cross the bridge for the best photo opportunities, but the hiking trail to the bottom of the gorge is accessible to all ages and abilities, including people with strollers and wheelchairs. “The state park staff does a tremendous job of maintaining the trail with hard pack surfacing and clear signage,” said Nikki.
The visitor center has numerous displays, including historical maps and displays of the Quechee Gorge over the years, and stories of the early mill days in Quechee showcasing the grain, lumber, cider, and textile mills that made uniforms for the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees, among many other products. Conservation efforts are also on display at the center, as well as photographs of the impact of hurricane Irene. Last year, the center began exhibiting artwork by Vermont artists along with handicrafts, Vermont-made food products, light refreshments, and sparkling clean public restrooms.

The visitor center receives about 100,000 visitors each year.

Overseeing the visitor center is Hartford Area Chamber of Commerce Director Havah Armstrong Walter, who was hired by the Chamber Board of Directors nearly three years ago. Originally from rural Maryland, Havah attended a summer language course at Middlebury College and was intrigued by the similarities between Vermont’s landscape and her grandparents’ farm in Maryland. “It was a really nice farming community where everyone helped each other out, and I had that same experience in Vermont with people helping me find a place to get flowers to decorate my room and taking me to special places like Texas Falls and Mozart in the Park. It was an incredible summer,” she said.
Havah returned to University of Pittsburgh where she was studying and shared her excitement with her fiance, and they made the move to Vermont, where she went on to earn a master’s degree in globalization at Dartmouth. Fully intending to work for international organizations like USAID, UNICEF, her path shifted as she realized she was fully immersed in her life in Hartford. “We felt very rooted in Vermont, and attached to our friends, neighbors, and the Sunrise Farm Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program,” she said. “We knew farmers, artists, restaurant owners, and felt very integrated into the community.” Havah revised her plans and decided to “be of good use” locally instead of globally, and she and her husband elected to stay in Vermont and raise a family.

Patrons visiting the Quechee Gorge Visitor Center

Having lived in four out of the five villages in Hartford over her 26 years in the Upper Valley, Havah has held many leadership roles, including girl scout leader, cub scout den leader, and lacrosse club involvement to support her children. She also has been engaged in local and state communities by serving on the school board, a diversity and equity committee, the Governor’s Council on Developmental Disabilities, and providing nonprofit consulting services. “I enjoy helping very passionate organizations develop their expertise in friendraising and fundraising and expanding their impact,” she said.
Leading her own nonprofit, Start Change, connected Havah with a diverse array of leaders in the Hartford community, including area Chambers of Commerce with whom she partnered on marketing, stewardship, and networking to support her nonprofit consulting clients. In 2023 Havah was invited to apply for the Hartford Area Chamber Executive Director position, and was hired for the job.

Quechee Gorge Visitor Center Entrance Sign

Havah has overseen several initiatives that have had a positive impact on the Quechee Gorge Visitor Center. “We started with transitioning operations to a digital platform including banking, record keeping, and ticket sales for the Quechee Balloon Fest, which resulted in higher revenues.” In addition, shifting from volunteers at the visitor center to 100% paid staff has helped the center adjust to post-COVID staff coverage challenges. Training staff in professional tourism management skills has seen visitorship in the foliage season increase 15-20%. “Our staff has always excelled at customer service, and we have amazing volunteers,” she said. “I joke that one of the things I did here at the center is that ‘I girled it up a little bit’. We have our second artist in residence here this year exhibiting their work in the visitor center. M. Julian Isaacson of Stone Revival Gallery features stone carvings, and last year nature focused block printer Landa Townsend filled the role.”
The Quechee Gorge Visitor Center and the Hartford Area Chamber of Commerce are evolving with the times and expanding their reach within the context of the ancient geology and ecology of Quechee Gorge by continuing to prioritize partnerships and collaborations. Said Havah, “We love to support small businesses and small business owners in our community in the way that they need through membership or simply representation.” And with that, let the summer begin! n

Did you know that community science nights happen every month at the Ottauquechee school? Activities are geared to elementary students to promote curiosity and interest in science.
These activities are organized and led by Dartmouth graduate students who are part of the SPARK @ Dartmouth outreach organization. This group is “passionate about expanding youth access to STEM education in the Upper Valley at an interactive and age-appropriate level. [They] collaborate with area elementary and middle schools to bring STEM to students, particularly for girls and under-represented and minority students.”

Students learned about biochemist Marie Daley’s discovery of the relationship between high cholesterol and heart disease by making Blood Slime.

In February, activities highlighted some black scientists in honor of Black History Month. Among the many activities provided, students learned about biochemist Marie Daley’s discovery of the relationship between high cholesterol and heart disease by making “blood slime.” They also learned about ophthalmologist Patricia Bath by navigating a laser image and modeling how eyes work. And, learning about the work of naval civil engineer Raye Montague, the students performed several experiments demonstrating the relationship between density and buoyancy.
Ottauquechee students who regularly attend the SPARK program were invited to a special event on February 3, at Dartmouth College, where they heard two former astronauts speak on “Launch to the NEXT Frontier.”

A SPARK @ Dartmouth graduate student with an educational display about ophthalmologist Patricia Bath, MD.

Mae Jemison and Jay Buckey spoke of their past NASA missions and what future exploration might hold. Jemison, a physician and engineer, was the first woman of color in space. She now leads 100 Year Starship, a nonprofit initiative seed-funded by DARPA (the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency). Jay Buckey is a professor of medicine at Dartmouth’s Geisel School of Medicine, where he leads the Space Medicine Innovations Laboratory.
Given the fickle temperatures of March, Community Science Night appropriately tackled the topic of weather. Students made weathervanes and wind chimes and studied the turbulence of thunderstorms.

Students learn about the work of naval civil engineer Raye Montague.

The Ottauquechee community is grateful to the Dartmouth graduate students who organize and create such engaging, hands-on activities to inspire, not only curiosity, but also love of science and mathematics.
Special thanks to Dartmouth graduate students
Engie Mostafa
Megan Doty
Camilla Bobrowicz
Adrianna Milton
Bess Jones
Amanda Cruz Rivera n

“The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball.” – Terence Mann (James Earl Jones), Field of Dreams, 1989.

Brandon Adams (U North Florida) delivers a strike (hopefully!).

The boys of summer are coming. Soon after Mud Season, the days will get longer, the golf courses will open, winter attire will be packed away, and America’s pastime, baseball, will return to the Upper Valley.

The Upper Valley Nighthawks, a member of the New England Collegiate Baseball League (NECBL), make their home at the Maxfield Sports Complex on Route 5 in White River Junction. The team is made up of college baseball players from all over the country who call the Upper Valley home for the months of June and July. The Nighthawks’ games are free for spectators, family friendly, and just plain fun.

Founded in 1993 by a group of baseball-loving sports enthusiasts, The NECBL’s goal was to expose New England student athletes to Major League Baseball (MLB) scouts. What started with a handful of teams is now a popular league of thirteen teams divided into two divisions, which travel between team locations from Martha’s Vineyard in the south to Montpelier in the north for games. The league boasts nearly 150 former players as MLB draftees and stars. Player recruitment is ongoing, with college coaches and team management collaborating year-round. While most players in the NECBL come from schools on the East Coast, occasionally, an outlier from California may appear on the roster. They all show up enthusiastic to spend the season in New England and to fine tune their baseball skills. The NECBL exposes them not only to on-field skills, but the “back-side” side of baseball, such as marketing, management, and business operations.

First baseman, Ryan Preisano (Wake Forest), catches the ball for an out

Noah Crane, an area native and president of the Upper Valley Nighthawks, is a lifelong lover of baseball, and shenanigans. He attends each game attired in a zebra stripe blazer and acts as Master of Ceremonies for between-inning games, offering a variety of hilarity, from “finish the lyrics” of a popular song to three-legged foot races. Crane describes the atmosphere as “part baseball, part carnival, and part farmer’s market.” From the thunder of small feet chasing a foul ball (a herd of children instantly appear in hot pursuit when the crack of the bat signals an opportunity to snag a coveted game ball), to the cheers of the spectators when the Nighthawks score a home run, to the inevitable laughter during between-inning entertainment, an evening with the Nighthawks has something for everyone.

AJ Brotz (Marist University) talks with a young fan

Crane has a long history with baseball, having played, coached, and spent a time with a Red Sox minor league team learning the business side of the game. He once owned an NECBL team with his father, in Laconia, many years ago. After returning to the Upper Valley to work at Dartmouth College, Crane was delighted when The Maxfield Sports Complex was built. It would make a perfect home for an additional NECBL team. In 2016, the 13^th franchise was awarded, and the Upper Valley Nighthawks made their home at “The Max,” truly a real-life “Field of Dreams.”

The team was welcomed by the community, and many volunteers and merchants stepped up to participate. The outfield is lined with banners of advertisers from throughout the area. The Jack and Dorothy Byrne Foundation paired with Mascoma Bank to make admission to the games free (a head count is taken as spectators arrive). The nearby Upper Valley Aquatic Center works with the team to provide essential facilities for the players to work out and train. The Montague Golf Course in Randolph offers reduced greens fees for players. Multiple area restaurants provide food service at the games, including Quechee’s own Public House, with adult beverages for purchase. Of course, no baseball game would be complete without hot dogs and, an area summer staple, Maple Creamees!

Rhys Anderson (Wabash College) wearing the Nighthawks mascot leads a between-inning
footrace

In addition to the games, the Nighthawks give back to the community in the form of summer camps for local children. Players and staff share their expertise and love of baseball, and provide instruction and encouragement to the young aspiring athletes. Because many alumnae of the NECBL have gone on to “The Bigs” (MLB) and had brilliant careers, it is possible that a child might exclaim, “He was my coach one summer!” Introducing children to this level of talent could help them learn new skills, develop a lifelong love of baseball, and inspire them to think, “Maybe I can do that!”

The challenge each summer for Crane and his staff is finding housing for the players. It is a league rule that players must be placed with Host Families in the community. Hotels and dormitory situations are not acceptable. Host Families provide the players with a sense of grounding, a home away from home. In these days of short-term rentals, and the popularity of the Upper Valley in summer, people with extra space may choose to rent instead of hosting. This is an economic reality that challenges each team, and for one team was its demise.

The team asks community members with extra room in their homes to welcome one or two players for the months of June and July. They require a place to sleep, access to laundry, and occasional meals. In addition, Host Families enjoy discounts on team merchandise and concessions at The Max. Children are particularly excited to have “an older brother” for two months, and the players frequently become “members of the family.”

Congrats

Host Families report thoroughly enjoying the experience. “The decision was simple,” said one Host Mom. “My husband is a huge baseball fan, so it was a done deal.”

Another shared, “In the summer of 2024, we hosted a second baseman and a left fielder, who particularly enjoyed breakfast before heading off to coach summer camp, or to work out before team meetings and practice. They would wake to the smell of bacon, which became ‘the bacon alarm clock.’ On mornings of away games, I’d send them with breakfast to go. The summer of 2025, we hosted two pitchers, The Twin Towers (6’4” and 6’6”), who were not breakfast eaters, so no ‘bacon alarm clock’ for them!  We’d advise them what would be planned for dinner, and suggest they let us know if they wanted to be included. They were a joy to host, and we look forward to meeting our next ‘boys of summer’ in June!”

If you would be interested in hosting one or two players this summer, contact Noah Crane, noah@uppervalleynighthawks.com. Your generosity will be rewarded with great fun and memories of contributing to helping develop a future MLB star.

Spring is here, at least on the calendar. Nothing says spring quite like getting on your bike, filling your lungs with fresh air, and watching the Upper Valley scenery roll by. If you’re looking for motivation to jump start your spring exercise routine, joining a fun group and a worthy cause might help keep you on track.

Quechee’s Andy Clark has just the thing. Last year, Clark organized the inaugural Upper Valley Bike to End Alzheimer’s team as a way to build support for the annual Upper Valley Walk to End Alzheimer’s. He was among 15 riders — seven from Quechee — who biked a picturesque route along the Connecticut River on a spectacular fall day. Together they raised more than $3,000 for the Alzheimer’s Association while sharing their stories and honoring loved ones with the disease.

Andy Clark and Sarah Pushee with Jeremy from Omer & Bobs

Clark is no stranger to biking for good. Following the lead of his father, Ed, who initially got him in to biking (he still has the bike his dad gave him in high school), Clark started participating for rides to benefit cancer and MS. When a friend’s mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, he joined a Bike to End Alzheimer’s event in his then-hometown in central Massachusetts. The following year, Ed was diagnosed with the disease.

Call to Action

It was devastating for Clark to see someone who was so verbal and engaged withdraw. “I wanted to do something as a way to honor him and raise money for something,” Clark recalled.

Ed’s motto had always been “If it is to be, it’s up to me,” so his son doubled down on the ride, creating a team called “Doin’ It for Our Folks” with fellow riders and making it an annual tradition. “Doing something to combat the disease became an absolute must. It was a way to release energy from the anger you feel with this,” explained Clark.

Ed passed away in 2014, and since then Clark has only built on his efforts. Since moving to Quechee, he’s also joined the Upper Valley Cycling Club and built a pack of biking pals.

Last year, they joined forces with the Upper Valley Walk to End Alzheimer’s, an Upper Valley tradition that has grown to 650 people from New Hampshire and Vermont communities. The 2025 walk raised more than $190,000 for the Alzheimer’s Association to fund free services, education, and research aimed at treating and preventing Alzheimer’s and other dementias.

Riding on Hope

Mike and Sarah Burke

The impact of the disease is devastating, affecting nearly 7 million people in the U.S., and impacting their 12 million unpaid caregivers, who are mostly family. In New Hampshire and Vermont alone, close to 40,000 people are living with the disease.

The numbers are sobering, but the events also exude a new sense of optimism, thanks to a better understanding and sense of agency around the disease. Walks like these help fund the advances. As of now, 14 modifiable lifestyle factors have been identified that together can dramatically reduce the risk for Alzheimer’s and dementia. Research breakthroughs have also brought treatments that slow disease progression and diagnostic tools to identify dementia and brain disease earlier and more easily.

Among the key prevention factors are exercise and social connection. The ride hits on both. On the morning of September 27, the riders assembled in the Park and Ride lot in Lyme. Clark introduced himself and the crew, then briefly told his story while holding up a picture of Ed, his inspiration. From there, the group (all wearing some purple, the color of Alzheimer’s awareness) pedaled north to Orford, across to Fairlee, down to Thetford, then back across to Lyme. From there the 20-mile route headed back to Lyme, while the 30-mile route continued south on River Road then back to Lyme on Route 10. The “no drop ride” meant no one was left behind. It included two major stops — nine miles in at the Fairlee green, and 17 miles in Cedar Circle — where riders enjoyed coffee and snacks while sharing their personal stories and reasons for riding.

A COMMON THREAD

Everyone in the group has been touched by it in some way, and some in many ways. Sarah Pushee’s mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s (before age 65) in 2015. Pushee, who had a full-time job and two small children at the time, had to quit her job to care for her. Her life turned upside down. Shortly after her mother passed away in 2019, Pushee got back to work by opening a bike shop. Then, in 2024 her dad got simultaneously diagnosed with A-Fib and vascular dementia. He went into delirium and died 30 days later.

“It was very traumatic,” said Pushee of the experience of seeing both parents taken by the disease. When Pushee first attended a Walk, she found it emotionally overwhelming. The biking felt more intimate, so she signed up. “The whole small, casual nature of it was really, really nice, and the pace was pretty amazing,” says Pushee. The “no drop” format, in addition to being inclusive, allowed people to talk and share their stories along the way. Alzheimer’s is notoriously isolating, so connecting with people who have had similar experiences is especially refreshing.

“For me, personally, [Alzheimer’s] was such a traumatizing experience,” explained Pushee. “Just being around other people, knowing that I don’t have to hurt alone, that I’m not the only person who’s had these really difficult experiences, and that there are other people who have tons of hope with life … there’s something to take from that.”

The bike team with the Alzheimer’s dinosaur

Pushee had found herself caught up thinking that the disease — which afflicted both parents and her aunt — was her inevitable fate. She felt powerless to fight her odds. That’s changed, however, as she has embraced the building evidence that lifestyle factors like exercise, social connection, whole foods, and sleep allow you to be more proactive in bringing down your risk.

“None of those three people at 50 years old rode their bike as much as I do,” she noted.

A post-ride celebration at Stella’s capped off the event and took care of any unfinished chatting. Most of the bike team, including Pushee, joined Clark on October 27 at the Walk to End Alzheimer’s, again carrying their team poster.

The $3,000 the group raised for the Alzheimer’s Association exceeded their goal for the inaugural ride. “As importantly,” said Clark, “we helped raise awareness about this devastating disease.”

Clark hopes more people will join the team to ride in 2026, and perhaps become like the Upper Valley Row to End Alzheimer’s that has grown from 12 people to 150 people in the past five years.

Get more info on the walk or sign up at: act.alz.org/uppervalley

2025 is coming to a close, and now, more than ever before, I feel the pull to go inward and reflect on where we are, where we have come from and where we are heading. “We” means ‘me’ and it also means the collective human ‘we’. Even Scrooge saw the light and drew some important lessons on how to take stock (albeit the hard way!) of his life and began to let gratitude, joy and generosity guide him.

Quechee Lakes creator, John Davidson, always envisioned a
snowy scene with horse-drawn wagons.

Despite the prevailing messages in the airwaves highlighting our apparent irreconcilable, conflicting differences, essentially all humans want the same things. Thus the reason ‘words of wisdom’ and clichés exist – because they often ring universally true for every human. So, please view the cliché sprinkles and (mixed) metaphors as words of wisdom meant to connect us – the cherry on top, so to speak!

Personally, like many people around the world, I sense the darkness that seems to hang over almost all corners of the globe. It’s easy to get caught up in the negativity, the name-calling, the shouting matches, the violence we witness multiple times a day on mainstream media. What’s much harder, but much healthier, is to just stop the rain from falling on you. Put up your umbrella, close your windows, batten down the hatches. Shield yourself from the pelting negativity that wears down your joie de vivre. As individuals, we have the power to focus on what’s good and what’s working, and to clear away the clouds so the sun may shine brightly on all of the good that happens everywhere, every day.

Mrs. Fogg’s answer in 1973 Quechee Times.

This is my “why” for Greater Good Media, and the reason I make sure that each of my papers publishes stories that uplift and inspire. The mission is to focus on all that’s good at the local level and then let the laws of physics take it from there. Pretty soon, the positive energy created through the good-news stories will emanate out generating a ripple effect that grows exponentially. Or, like the butterfly effect, by highlighting one small flutter of community kindness here, positive change may be felt in much bigger ways in a distant land.

We can be the change we want to see. And, in this season of slowing down, gathering together and taking stock, we absolutely can tune out the noise, shift our priorities and give peace a chance.

Awe

It’s time to witness and immerse yourself in moments of pure “awe.” One of the best ways to do this is to actually stop and smell the roses or marvel at what’s right in front of you. In those moments, all is calm and all is truly bright.

When you see a sunset as awe-inspiring and beautiful as this one pictured here (as seen from a window in a Ridge condo), you cannot help but stare in silence at the miracle that is before you. A deep sense of gratitude envelops your being – you’re grateful for the privilege of living in this beautiful part of the world… in this community. You’re grateful for the people in your life who may be sharing this moment of beauty with you. You are grateful for being alive on this extraordinary planet during this incredible time in human history.

Jennifer Lorin (MacMillen) was the snowfl ake in the Christmas production at the Quechee Grammar School in 1974 (now the UV Waldorf School).

Gratitude

Santa visits Quechee

Which brings me to gratitude. Last night, I watched a documentary called Gratitude Revealed by filmmaker Louie Schwartzberg (who also produced Fantastic Fungi). Essentially, the film “reveals how practicing gratitude can help us reconnect with ourselves, the Earth, and one another in a world where disconnection often prevails. It reminds us that happiness is a choice we can nurture.” (Gaia TV)

As you gather together for Thanksgiving and Christmas, or any other holiday and tradition you celebrate throughout the year, remind yourself that happiness is a choice. Now a cliché clarion call, allowing yourself to feel truly grateful for what you have in this moment, even in times of darkness, you will feel your flicker of light and hope emerge and, if you continue to fan the flame of gratitude moment by moment, you will become the light that brings people back to safety…back home. And what can invoke a greater feeling of personal happiness and contentment than to be a beacon of light for others!

Working Together and Sharing for the Common Good

And it’s true: these times feel like we are on a rickety wooden ship in the middle of the ocean with an ominous, powerful storm a-brewing. Dark clouds, high winds, nothing stable to hold onto; uncertain future. But, the good news is, when we have all hands on deck and we pull together and balance our weight, we can right the ship and be ready to recalibrate our course when the storm passes. And the storm always passes.

Joy

Dalai Lama, Doug Abrams, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu

What is joy? It can easily be mistaken for the fun times we have or the thrill of experiencing or receiving something new. But, in fact, those are just dopamine hits. Joy is that feeling in your chest when your heart is open and fear is at bay and you can be vulnerable and feel safe at the same time. It’s in these moments when generosity can flow through us. And, in order to have joy yourself, you must bring joy to others. Or so says His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

One of the best books I’ve ever listened to is called the Book of Joy wherein journalist and author Doug Abrams reveals what joy really looks like in his conversations with these two Nobel Prize winners about how they cultivated joy even in the face of extreme adversity. If you need some help reclaiming joy this holiday season, listen to this book and be prepared for your heart to fill up and overflow!

Peace

The ultimate cliché is revealed by the fact that practically every pageant queen ever asked says that their one greatest wish is for “peace on Earth.” Why is that? Because who doesn’t want peace on Earth? It’s time to bring that back and make it everyone’s greatest wish. It’s time to make Peace On Earth our top priority. It’s time to shine the light on all the good. It’s time to call out and celebrate every act of kindness. It’s time to catch our kids doing what’s “right” (and just). It’s time to be the change we want to see in the world.

Left: Dewey & Maisie, the author’s daughters, 1999. Center: Jen & Andy (right), 1968. Right: Andy Lorin had a degenerative disease that would never allow him to drive, so Santa gave him a go-cart. There wasn’t a dry eye as we witnessed his pure elation when seeing the surprise “under the tree.”

So, as we head into this season of stillness and chaos, joy and stress, love and madness… all of it, stop to reflect and smell the roses (and pine needles)…

Let’s find magic in gathering together again. Let’s feel awe in this season of stillness. Let’s be grateful for being alive. Let’s feel joy as we witness innocence and pure delight in the faces of our collective children, and let’s then radiate that joy out to the world. Let there be peace on Earth. And let it begin with me.

In 1995 I went to the ER with a kidney stone.  When asked about my family medical history, I was truly at a loss for words.  I had no idea about my biological family.  My little sister, Kate, and I were adopted by the Schmidts when I was six.  Their biology was not my biology.  I knew I had to go looking for the Sullivans.

Mark Sullivan and his wife Nancy Curtis on Quechee Highland #8

I had started school, kindergarten, as Mark Sullivan.  Kate and I had lived with several different families in foster care, but I had vague memories of a young boy, a brother perhaps, and I making cinnamon toast, and making a mess in the process.  I knew I was born in Batavia, NY on October 20, 1955, and – through a background check for a military security clearance – I’d been told that our mother died young, our father was unable to care for us, and we were put up for adoption.  End of story.

Adoption records in New York state are sealed, and it takes an Act of God to unseal them.  I knew that birth announcements were printed in daily newspapers.  Through my college classes, including media law, I also knew the government could not erase what had been printed in the newspaper.  Many libraries keep archives of newspapers, so I called the Richmond Library in Batavia New York and asked if they kept copies of old newspapers.  The answer was yes!  I asked the librarian if she could send me copies of my birth announcement and my sister’s birth announcement.  She agreed, and a few days later I nervously opened the envelope that arrived from the Library.

Kate, Carol, and Mark 1960

The announcement said that I was the son of Patricia Ronan Sullivan and John Joseph Sullivan.  Clues! There are probably hundreds of thousands of John Joseph Sullivans in the world, but there are far fewer Ronans.  My then-fiancé, now wife, Nancy Curtis, a budding internet researcher got online (dial-up at that time) and searched for Ronans in Batavia.  She came up with one, Bernard.  Number in hand, I nervously called Bernard Ronan.

“Mr. Ronan,” I said, “my name is Mark Schmidt, I am calling from Tampa, Florida, and I’m not selling anything.  I was born in Batavia and was later adopted.  I have just learned that my mother’s name was Patricia Ronan Sullivan.  Does that name mean anything to you?”  He replied, “No, I’m sorry, it doesn’t.  But I’m not from here.  Let me get you the number of Thomas Ronan who is a Batavia native.”  I thanked him, he wished me luck, and I was on to the next call. “May I speak with Thomas Ronan?”  I asked.  “Junior or Senior?” the voice responded.  “Senior, I suppose.”  “This is Thomas Senior.”  I went through my dialogue.  “Does this name mean anything to you?”  There was a pause.  He said, “Yes, Pat was my sister, and we’ve been looking for you for twenty-five years.”  I had found them!!  He continued, “Your brother, Jim, is going to go out of his mind.”  I had a brother!  Three telephone calls and I had found my family!  Though, only half of it, so far.

Thomas explained that Jim was an over-the-road truck driver and would not be at home, but his then fiancé, now wife, Karen, would get the message to him.  Phone call number four, message left on an answering machine.  “My name is Mark Schmidt and if you’re wondering why you should call me back, I’m your brother.”

I was on the phone with a client when Jim called back.  Nancy answered and chatted with him.  He shared that he’d gotten a message to call home, which was unusual.  Karen would only reach out while he was driving if it was an emergency.  He pulled off the road and called home.  Karen said, “Your brother called.”  Jim responded, “what does Donnie want now??” thinking it was his troubled younger brother.  Karen replied, “Not Donnie.  Mark.”  There was silence.  Jim, who is never at a loss for words, was speechless.  “Mark?” he croaked.  “Where is he?  Do you have a number?”

Jim, Jack, and Mark in 1996

“My heart is beating so hard I think it’s going to jump out of my chest,” Jim told Nancy.  She explained to Jim the recent circumstances, trip to the ER, call to the librarian, birth notice, Bernard Ronan, and the conversation with Uncle Tom.  When I got off my call, I took Jim’s call, for the next hour and one-half.  Two days later, Jim, driving the cab of a semi-rig, showed up at our home for a long-awaited reunion.

Nancy asked Jim about “cinnamon toast.”  He burst out laughing.  “We made such a mess, and got into so much trouble!”  “But,” he added, “it was worth it!”

I always wondered who I looked like.  Now I had an idea.  Jim was taller, we both had the same blue eyes. (I have more hair, and am more handsome.)  While I had more “formal” education, Jim is no slouch in the intellect department.  He’d enlisted in the Marines after high school, studied engineering, and wanted to become a doctor so he could “fix” his mother.

Jim stayed overnight, and had arranged to pick up a trailer in the area (long-haul trucker-speak for driving a truck full of whatever from Point-A to Point-B.)   His visit was the tip of the iceberg.  In addition to Jim, I had two half-sisters and a half-brother, whose father was not John Sullivan.  So, my mother had not died when I was young.  Instead, on the day that Children and Family Services took Kate and I, Jim was over at Grandfather Ronan’s house, and the younger children were with their biological father, otherwise they, too, would have gone into foster care.

I asked Jim about our father, John Sullivan. He shared that he had been taught to hate him.  Our mother, Pat, said he was a terrible person and didn’t care about his children, and he’d abandoned them.  We were soon to learn the truth of it all.

Mark and Jim in 1995

Jim knew that John Sullivan, called Jack by friends and family, had been born in Manhattanville, NY and had a twin brother.  Nancy scoured databases, sent out hundreds of emails to Sullivans in New York, but no leads surfaced.  I read online about a couple who helped adoptees find their families.  She was an adoptee, and he was a private detective.  I reached out to them with the information I had available, and a few hours later received a call.  They had found Jack, retired from the telephone company, and living in Diana, Texas, a small East Texas town, with the closest airport in Shreveport, Louisiana.

I was back on the telephone, with the same dialogue, Mark Schmidt, Tampa, FL, not selling anything… only this time I said, “I am your son.”  “My prayers have been answered,” Jack responded.  “I have liver cancer, and was supposed to be dead by now.  I have been praying to find you and Jim, and your sister, Kate.”

A few days later, I landed at the Shreveport Airport, and in the waiting room I saw myself staring back at me, albeit older and jaundiced from liver failure, but me, same eyes, height, hair, bone structure.  Now I knew who I looked like.  And the flood gates opened…

Sullivans!!  Who knew how many there would be?  Uncles, an aunt, a hoard of cousins, all with the same eyes, and dry sense of humor.  Warm and welcoming, as if we’d spent our lives together.  Jack had a twin brother, Tim, [who was] retired from the NYPD as a motorcycle cop.  He and his wife, a nurse, had six children, biological and adopted, who were all in law enforcement and healthcare.  All in the New York City area.

Jack in 1996

Then there were the “Texas Sullivans.”  Jack had been married several times, currently to number three, and had four children from those relationships, two biological and two adopted.  I needed a genealogical chart! The Christmas card list just increased by about fifty.

Jim arrived in Texas for Father’s Day weekend. I stayed home because Jim had history with Jack that needed to be discussed between the two of them.  When Jim inquired about why Jack abandoned them, Jack was hesitant to share his version of the story.  “Your mother isn’t here to defend herself, so I’m not comfortable talking about it,” Jack told Jim.  “But I never forgot you. I sent presents at Christmas, and cards for your birthdays.”  Jim was surprised, as he’d never received any of them.  Jim was finally successful in persuading Jack to tell his version of the story.

Jack had come home one evening from work and found his belongings on the porch.  Pat had met someone “more interesting” and that was Jack’s invitation to go away.  He went to see her father for some guidance, but was told, “She’s made her decision.  You need to leave.”  So, he left, and they divorced.  But he’d never forgotten his children, Jim and Mark, and Kate, whom he acknowledged as his, even though she was dark-eyed and looked nothing like the rest of the Sullivans.

Sadly, Jack died two months later.  Jim and I were both there for the service. We’d had the opportunity to put the missing pieces of our lives together, and were grateful for the time we’d had with our father, even though it was brief.  I now had a biological family!  And my own family medical history as a bonus!

Mark Sullivan and Nancy Curtis are Florida residents who spend Hurricane Season (May-November) in Quechee.  They enjoy travel, Quechee Lakes’ two challenging golf courses, and Mark appreciates a “good cigar and a friendly round of poker.”

In 1976, Chris Clark wrote a poem he titled “Circles.” His high school teacher submitted the poem for inclusion in a book that would ultimately be preserved in a time capsule. The poem was about Vermont farmer and long-time Quechee resident, Theron Boyd.

Thanksgiving with Chris Clark (center), Theron (right), and
Chris’ sister Carolyn Clark and Robert Newman who were dating
while both starring on Guiding Light (1981).

Over the course of a decades-long friendship, Clark collected Boyd’s stories, wisdom, and life lessons. The poem was just one example of Boyd’s impact on Clark, written the year of the United States’ bicentennial. “It was a reflection of America in that time period, and Theron’s in there,” said Clark.

Clark’s curiosity about what happened to the time capsule, combined with a recent health scare, spurred him to share Boyd’s stories with the world. “Realizing these stories would die with me… I can’t let that happen. He was too precious. I was there for a reason.”

An Epic Day

Clark arrived in Quechee in the early 1970s when his father was a member of the development team that created Quechee Lakes. His parents were divorced, so Clark spent weekends and holidays in Quechee – as much time as he could, he said – through his high school years. He worked at his family’s ice cream stand and at a local ski hill and would pass Boyd’s property on the way home, but he avoided the farmer, who had a reputation reminiscent of To Kill a Mockingbird’s Boo Radley. “I’d come down the hill at night, I would just run past his farm so fast,” Clark said. “There were bats and things. It was spooky.”

Theron holding Chris’ son, Christopher Clark, Jr. (1985).

Clark recalls meeting Boyd during the flood of 1973. He and his father were checking on a covered bridge they thought might wash out in the storm.

“As we came up on Hillside Road, down on the corner of Hillside Road and Clubhouse Road was Theron, and he was standing there diverting water with a hoe,” Clark said. “No damage on his farm, and so we started talking, and he was not the same guy that local folklore called a recluse and a hermit.”

Clark recalled Boyd saying he had warned against building the golf course bridge. “‘Mother Nature sent the bill today’ – that was one of his great ones,” said Clark. “‘Mother Nature sent the bill,’ as the golf course bridge was floating away. It was a pretty epic day to meet him. I’ll never forget it. And then he just became my best friend.”

Clark found refuge at the Boyd farm whenever he needed to escape work or family life. “That was my place,” he said. “That was my sanctuary.”

Fighting for His Homestead

Born in 1901, Boyd lived in his family home for 88 years. He never installed plumbing or electricity in the house. He eschewed modern machinery and harvested crops with a scythe. Clark described it as a refusal to sell out. For example, Boyd stopped making maple syrup when the state instituted the grading system. “He didn’t like being told what to do,” said Clark. “He said, ‘why would you give it a B grade? That’s what I like the best. It should have an A grade. It’s a matter of taste, not color.’”

Theron at his Quechee homestead

Built in 1786, the Georgian-Federal style farmhouse overlooks the Ottauquechee River, one mile West of Quechee village. The 30-acre homestead also includes a barn, sugarhouse, chicken coop, and corn crib. Now owned by the Vermont Land Trust and the Vermont Division of Historic Preservation, the homestead is used for conservation studies.

Chris Clark’s father & stepmother as seen in the spring 1975
Quechee Times

The journey of the homestead, from Boyd family farm to a Vermont state historic site, was marked by battles.

An old-time Vermonter, Boyd earned a reputation as the “traditional independent Vermont farmer” in the 1970s when he refused to sell his property to the Quechee Lakes developers. In 1979, Boyd’s half-brother sold his interest in the property with the provision that Boyd would have full use of the property for life.

Then, in 1981, amidst health issues, Boyd signed over his half of the property to a friend with the expectation she would care for him. The arrangement did not work out as expected.

“They were not taking good care of Theron at all,” said Clark. “He had no other resources, really, and it was a very troubling time, finding that his farm was swindled.”

Clark was newly married and living in Aspen, but moved to Boyd’s farm for the summer to care for him. They sought help from an advocacy group, which led to a court filing to restore ownership of the homestead to Boyd.

Clark praised the work of Senator Peter Welch, who represented Boyd in court at the time. As a result of the settlement, the interest Boyd had signed away was transferred to the Ottauquechee Land Trust (now the Vermont Land Trust), and stipulated Boyd would receive coverage for lifetime care. The owners of the other half of the interest in the homestead sold their share to the Land Trust, as well. “It was truly amazing the way it came back,” said Clark. “We went to court that day seeking half the property, and we walked out the door with the whole property.”

Boyd remained at his homestead until his health necessitated spending his final years at Mertens House, where he passed away in 1990.

Sharing Boyd’s Stories

Chris and Theron at the farm

From finding a childhood refuge to fighting for his land, Boyd’s impact on Clark’s life continues to this day. In 1982, Clark had the idea to start a business hoping to earn money to buy back the Boyd homestead. While on Boyd’s farm and crumpling newspaper (which happened to be The Wall Street Journal)  to feed into the woodstove, he saw an ad for concrete floating docks which piqued his interest. He sent away for more information. This curiosity and subsequent action launched a 40-year career designing and building marina facilities and founding his company, Harbormasters International. “It got me in the industry, and I’m still in the industry,” said Clark. “I started the company on his farm. We’re doing the biggest marinas in the world right now.”

Clark will be sharing stories about the history of the Theron Boyd Homestead in a series of columns right here in the Quechee Times – stories that span the homestead’s years following the American Revolution, its time as a stop on the Underground Railroad, the land development of the 1970s, and the landmark court case in the 1980s.

But these stories about the homestead are really about Boyd. “They need to be better preserved and better talked about because he was the real gold, you know,” said Clark. “They say the house was worth so much. Theron was worth way more.”

An Inc. magazine article that speaks for itself

It started with one simple question – can you create delicious and practical meals using only ingredients that can be grown in Vermont?

The Vermont Farm to Table Cookbook features 60 recipes made
with Vermont grown ingredients.

The idea for The Vermont Farm to Table Cookbook was born over two years ago when my sister (and co-author) Nora Rice and I were having a conversation about so-called ‘superfoods.’ The discussion began around the realization that superfoods aren’t much more than good marketing, that a blueberry is packed full of vitamins and anti-oxidants just like a goji berry, but with the added benefit that it can be grown locally, by someone you know and trust. That it can taste even better because you can enjoy it fresh here in Vermont. And that it doesn’t have to be shipped thousands of miles, with a trail of pollution spreading out behind it. And so we began to wonder, would it be possible to create a farm-to-table cookbook with recipes made from only Vermont-grown ingredients?

Right away the ideas started to flow. Early on it was challenging creating recipes within our parameters, but once we got our bearings, the ideas came quickly. Maple bourbon crème brûlée, crispy corn cakes with summer veggie toppings, cider and squash soup and herb butter basted steak were among the 60 recipes that made the final cut.

Jenna Rice photographs a frittata for The Vermont Farm to
Table Cookbook.

The idea of farm-to table foods here in Vermont is nothing new. Indeed our state is one of the best places to live if you want to know where your food comes from. Books on local cooking and restaurants that feature farm-to-table ingredients are easy to find in our state. But, until now, there has never been a book of recipes made with only ingredients from Vermont. Having this foundation of vibrant local food systems to build upon was a large part of our inspiration as we began to work on what, over a year later, would come to be The Vermont Farm to Table Cookbook.

Nora and I grew up in Hartland, Vermont, at the base of an east-facing hill, overlooking fields that have overflowed with a bounty of food for decades if not centuries. Our parents are avid gardeners, and our neighbors were vegetable and dairy farmers. So it goes without saying that we grew up with local food as a part of our lives, (although we did not come to appreciate what we had until years later). As a child, a summer dinner might have included bright yellow crookneck squash from the garden, sautéed with rich golden butter and sweet caramelized onions, perhaps with an appetizer of nutty alpine-style cheese from our neighbor’s farm.

Jenna (L) and Nora (R) as children, with Jersey calves they
helped to care for on their neighbors’ farm.

As young adults tend to do, we spread our wings in our different directions. Nora moved to England where she attended culinary school, while I stayed here in the Upper Valley finding my unconventional way and eventually starting my business offering photography and creative services for food and beverage businesses in Vermont. After cooking in restaurants all over the world from Seattle to Montana to Ireland to New Zealand to Italy, Nora made her way back to Vermont in 2023.

It was later that year that we began developing recipes for The Vermont Farm to Table Cookbook. Nora would create and test recipes before bringing the finished dish to my home photo studio where we would carefully style and photograph it. She has said to me many times that, at the outset, she was skeptical that it would be possible to create a cookbook with only Vermont-grown ingredients with our few tiny exceptions for things like salt and oil. But as we progressed through creating recipes, she was surprised to find that having parameters like the ones we had set for ourselves encouraged more creativity, leading to new ideas and using ingredients in new ways.

In the spring of 2023, as the snow began to disappear, first from the south-facing slopes, and then the shaded hills, we were fully immersed in the project. Creating and photographing recipes on a weekly basis. We still didn’t have a title, we still didn’t have a publisher, but we were certain that we were going to see this project through. We were having too much fun, and were too invested in the idea to stop now.

Cider and Squash Soup, a recipe from the fall chapter of The
Vermont Farm to Table Cookbook featuring locally grown
butternut squash, carrots, and hard cider.

With the cookbook about three-quarters of the way complete, we decided it would be worth reaching out to some publishing companies. It seemed like a longshot, everything we read said that the world of cookbook publishing was incredibly competitive, and after reaching out to an agent and being told that we were too regionally specific, we weren’t too optimistic. But we submitted our manuscript to a few publishers anyway, and were thrilled to hear back from Hatherleigh Press. Located in upstate New York, they had already published a farm-to-table cookbook based in the Catskill Mountains and they wanted to publish us, too. Words fail to express how excited we were when we put pen to paper on our final publishing contract. But we couldn’t rest on our laurels for long because now we had real deadlines to meet. Every recipe had to be  tested to ensure that the directions were clear. We enlisted friends and family for this task. With the recipes tested and finalized, we next turned our attention to design and layout of the cookbook, and finally marketing and promotion.

Crispy Corn Cakes, a summer recipe from The Vermont Farm to
Table Cookbook featuring locally grown cornmeal, tomatoes,
beans, cilantro, peppers and cheese.

As is to be expected with any long term project, our enthusiasm and energy waxed and waned along the way. There were times when we were full of excitement to test recipes, copy edit our manuscript, work on the design and layout and market the book, and there were also times when the opposite was true. This is the part in the story where I am supposed to tell you, the reader, about the struggles that we overcame to bring this cookbook to fruition.

While creating The Vermont Farm to Table Cookbook was not without its ups and downs (a 12-hour copy-editing-marathon-before-a-big-deadline comes to mind) I don’t have too many low points to share. In truth it was a fantastic adventure, a quest to discover if it was possible to create an entire book of recipes using only Vermont-

grown ingredients, and with that same do-it-yourself attitude, for two sisters from Vermont to publish that cookbook. And the answer to both is a resounding YES!

You can learn more about The Vermont Farm to Table Cookbook at VermontFarmToTable.net, or find a copy at major book retailers.