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We popped up to Vermont to pick up the last of King's orphaned paintings and sculptures, and reconnect Whalen with where he grew from a chunky baby into a knee-high. The visit was too short but flooded us with the beautiful memories. We lived in a tiny town West Dummerston... outside the "big city" of Brattleboro.
King had his first taste of a humongous studio in a quonset hut of a bygone cotton mill. We lived in a converted church next to the post office and library, and since we were on the only paved road for miles, it's where all the nearby communities met for things like candle lighting during the holidays and tricker treating. The kids ran and biked around freely and took Whalen under their wing like a baby brother. We could hike down to Stickney Brook from our place. A little slice of utopia!
This was also my first time as a new mom, working remotely outside of a big city... and I had to overcome what King fondly refers to as my "tucking my sweatpants into my boots period". I'm as much a city girl as I am a middle-of-nowhere girl, but it takes some time to adjust between worlds.
I'm so grateful that we had this time... and we'll definitely make sure we get back here more often. It is one of the few places where 7 years later it looks like time stood still.
