As the nights turn colder, the sky appears clearer, more precise somehow. I feel like I can see more stars and actually a glimpse up into the heavens. Take a deep breath and you can feel the increasing crispness of the air. The seasons are changing and our lives along with it.
At this time of year, I can sit on my front porch in the mornings with my laptop and get a world of work done while basking in the first rays of sunshine. I’m surrounded by the songs of birds as they hop along the lawn, nibbling at whatever has risked its life by still being out in the open. The dew glistens in the sunshine while I am reminded that we really need to mow the lawn. There are Indian paintbrush popping up and that stresses out the lawnmower.
There’s a buzzing, a constant murmur in the background from all the bugs waking themselves up. I can only distinguish one tone, but I am sure there are thousands all strung together. The whole world seems to be alive, shaking in its vibrancy right in front of me. And I can be here, sitting quietly with only the clicking of my computer keys interrupting the sounds of nature.
There’s a silent roar of the stream, folding over itself as it tumbles down the mountainside and through the culvert on the lower border of my land. It’s far enough away that it’s not frightening water, but just a slight rumbling in the distance. You almost don’t recognize the sound at first, so bold is the morning buzzing. But the river is there, if only because it won’t stop raining.
As I sit here, I constantly debate the borders of my flower beds. Right now, with the tall grass and slightly neglected and obviously overwatered weeds, I can only see glimpses. I know there is a border there somewhere, lined with last year’s black mulch. But you can’t really see it. The lawn is growing more into the plants than anything else. Maybe I just need more plants instead. Isn’t that always the answer?
We get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of trying to do all the things that sometimes we forget to just enjoy the nature that surrounds us. I have a girlfriend with a screened-in porch and I always sigh with jealousy every time she posts a picture of her yellow lab basking in the bugless sun. My porch isn’t that kind of porch. I have a settin’ porch, she has a cozy one. Maybe I just need different couches with like bright yellow pillows instead of these brown ones with firepit burn holes.
My grandparents’ old grill table serves as my desk; It is just the right size to nestle into the corner in the shadiest spot, enabling me to actually see my laptop screen to get my work done. A job where I get to help others find peace, serenity and happiness by owning a home of their own in the Killington region. How could I not want to share this, to wish this tranquility for someone else?
I sit out here in the rain, feeling the mist on my face as the water flows down off the roof. I’m safe under here, and dry for the most part. Nothing that won’t evaporate in like five minutes. It’s a different world out here then, the animals hidden in their bunkers all around, nestled in the dirt and rocks. They are quiet. Perhaps speaking in whispers in their small spaces, for all you can hear then in the rain.
I can also come out at night, snuggled under a blanket with a mug of chamomile tea and a delicious book. Alright, it’s a whiskey but still just as relaxing.
Even though the porch lights are blinding and most creatures lie abed, I can still hear the stream coming down the mountain. And in the quiet stillness of the night, the wind rustling through the treetops seems almost like a roar as it rolls down the valley.
It is glorious, making time to sit out in the world every day — if only for the few moments to eat my breakfast or just snag a few breaths of fresh air after a hot shower. To take a moment and just be with nature, not biking or hiking or paddling. Just to be outdoors, letting nature surround me instead of just slicing through it at full speed. These are the cherished moments, the minutes that make Vermont life so utterly special. The moment where Vermont wraps itself around you and, together, you simply are.
Merisa Sherman is a longtime Killington resident, local Realtor, bartender and KMS Coach. Share your favorite Vermont moments at femaleskibum@gmail.com.
