Mountain Meditation

Building our Killington Dream dream lodge, Part 7 I felt I was living a double life since everything happened Friday through Sunday. Returning to “normalcy” in New Jersey resembled acting in a surreal play. We knew once we crossed the New York State line and entered Vermont, the magic would start. Our weekends were filled…

We were making progress on Dad’s Killington dream lodge, but it was slow going with lots of delays, often due to frequent weather changes. Whenever it rained, water leaked onto the floor. When it was bitter cold, ice carpeted the back room. With electricity in our basement at last, extension cords snaked around the room.…

Building our Killington dream lodge, part 6 When the power company man climbed a tree to connect wires to our basement ski lodge, Mom planned a party to celebrate the grand occasion for which we’d been waiting. Mom selected a rectangular table with two benches she’d stashed in our house in Montclair, New Jersey. We…

Building a Killington dream lodge, part 5 Mom and I perfected the art of dressing in bed when it was cold, which was quite often in Vermont’s Green Mountains. We giggled as we wiggled out of and into our clothing. It wasn’t easy, especially for me, inside my narrow mummy sleeping bag. I felt like…

Flat tires, Dad’s right hand tomboy, roof leaks ad infinitum The year Dad bought two acres in Killington was when my older brother, Jack, left home for the University of New Hampshire to study forestry. Our brother Billie played high school football and wasn’t free to join us most weekends. So Mom, Dad, our lab…

Part 3 of a series on building our Killington dream lodge Every weekend and during vacations we fled to Vermont for more adventures while building the ski lodge Dad dreamed of. While residing in our tent in the woods, we cleared the land and leveled the ground, no small achievement in a state made of rock.…

Author’s note: This is part two of a series on the Dye family Vermont adventure.  We always arrived in Killington late on our drive from New Jersey on the highways. After winding our way up dark mountain roads, we forded across Roaring Brook (before the bridge was built), rounded the bend, and climbed to the…

Forward: I’ve decided to share my family’s adventures of building our ski house since I was a girl.  For several weeks, I’ll recount in my column early memories of our Killington years. Isn’t it strange while living our lives, we often lose sight of what is special—of people, places, and all that helps to form…

I haven’t been in touch with Bear Spirit for a while. I thought I’d let him hibernate in peace and quiet. But then I recalled I hadn’t shared all my interaction with the coyote who appeared in person and in spirit right before the snow fell. I entered my Radiant Heavenly Heat Sauna and began…

  When I was 5 my dad taught me to ski on a tiny slope in northern New Jersey. I remember the first time I grabbed a rope tow. I grasped it tightly with mittened hands and catapulted forward above the ground. The snow was soft and it didn’t hurt in spite of doing a…

“We are stars wrapped in skin. The light you are seeking has always been within,” said Rumi, a  13th-century poet. When winds of change stir up our world, we often feel unsteady and confused. But these strong winds are ushering in a new era for the human race and a new psyche for us. We’re…

    Mountain Meditation By Margeurite Jill Dye There’s something about the mountains That calms a troubled soul. The air is fresh, the sky is blue, serenity, extolled.   Red foxes, bears and coyotes, squirrels and beaver run, Hunt and play in meadows and fields, On peaks and ledges in fog or sun.   Honking…

Mountain Meditation Marguerite Jill Dye   A dear friend of mine keeps a gratitude journal to write down the good things that transpire—like a heart-to-heart talk with a friendly neighbor, a courteous driver, a fall she avoided. Gratitude grows blessings. It’s a high vibration that attracts the same back to it like a magnet. When…

Mountain Meditation Marguerite Jill Dye   A dear friend of mine keeps a gratitude journal to write down the good things that transpire—like a heart-to-heart talk with a friendly neighbor, a courteous driver, a fall she avoided. Gratitude grows blessings. It’s a high vibration that attracts the same back to it like a magnet. When…

By Marguerite Jill Dye We were elated to spend several days with our grandchildren just before Christmas. I am always in awe of how young ones, unencumbered, mold the world to their liking. Our grandson Silas’ enthusiasm is so far reaching he engages total strangers in collaborative activities. He also initiates grown up conversations that leave adults…