By Merisa Sherman I could feel my braid begin to whip around in all directions behind me as we took off from the stop, leaving the dirt drive and heading out onto the pavement. My right hip dropped toward the road as my left side body squinched in an effort to stay upright. Slowly, the power…

By Merisa Sherman About three months ago, I was cocky and came into the Kent Pond parking lot a little too hot on my mountain bike. I felt my rear tire skid out as I hit the loose gravel but I was able to keep my bike upright ... until my front tire decided to turn…

It’s an age-old quandary by Merisa Sherman It’s an age-old personal and preferential question on which I have been spending time this week in deep thought. Maybe I even meditated a little on this topic, just to see if anything would pop into my brain while it was completely at rest. Nothing happened, but it’s still one…

By Merissa Sherman You can see the glow starting to grow between the trees and you know the summit must be soon and I quicken my pace to get to the opening. My right arm reaches around a tree and a swing my feet around to land on a rock just below. A few quick little…

By Merisa Sherman There’s a place I go to hide. It’s just a few paces off the beaten trail but somehow no one ever seems to be there. I maneuver past whichever old — but not quite rusted — pickup truck seems to be blocking my secret path that day and duck my head underneath…

It all begins with a sacred quest. To begin, one must have a vision of perfection that will undoubtably not be met but must be strived for in any case. One might journey deep into the forest, a solo mission filled with dedication to a high standard. A lone branch, peeping out from underneath a…

It’s cold and I can feel the wind nipping at my exposed cheeks right above my mask. Based on the snow swirling at my feet, I cannot tell if the wind is straight smacking me in the face or swirling around me but I don’t care. The air is so clear and so crisp. Above…

By Merisa Sherman It was the responsibility of the fifth grade and we took it very seriously. Instead of participating in the chaos of homeroom each morning, the designated group would get the flag from its place of honor in our classroom and slowly descend the main stairs. We would be the only ones in…

By Merisa Sherman It’s so dry, that even underneath the protective straw, I can see cracks in the asparagus bed soil. The pansies on the western side of the garden are making their final push before their foregone surrender while the grass is a prickly brown that cuts your feet. The wildflowers are shirking their…

Living the Dream By Merisa Sherman I’ve always loved Vermont. As a kid, my parents would pick my sister and me up from school every Friday afternoon and we would make the four hour trek in our Jeep Grand Wagoneer. The woodie kind. And we’d head out skiing first thing on Saturday morning. It was…

By Merisa Sherman My grandfather called it “settin’.” The act of someone sitting on their front porch, presumably in a rickety old rocking chair passed down from generation to generation, just watching the world go by. Perhaps they would be fanning themselves and drinking a glass of sweet tea. They seem to be without a…

By Merisa Sherman All I did was pull into the Kent Pond parking lot, moving from the paved apron and onto the extremely dry crushed rock. My mountain bike slipped out from underneath me and I found myself floating slow motion through the air. My left hand hit the ground and I saw my lower…

By Merisa Sherman It is an absolutely gorgeous Saturday morning in May. The daffodils, pansies and just mowed lawn are now covered with 4-6 inches of dense marshmallow snow and the sky is a stunningly bright blue. There atop the never-before-skied headwall, stands extreme skier and Pittsfield resident, Mark Bragg, prepping for one of the…

By Merisa Sherman Tarentaise. Ascutney Mountain. Grafton Maple Smoked Cheddar. Vermont Smoke & Cure Summer and Fortuna’s Cacciatorini Sausages paired with some fresh made six-grain bread and all washed down with some Mac & Maple Cider. It’s amazing to think of all the wonderful foods we have in Vermont just at the tip of our…

By Merisa Sherman Leaning on my shovel, I take the bandanna from my Carhartts and wipe the sweat from my brow. It’s hot in Vermont and I can’t seem to stop the sweat from burning my eyes as I work on this garden reclamation project. A beautiful and productive garden until Irene came through, we finally admitted…