Was it good fortune to come into this world by way of a small, rural Vermont town? If asked that question in my early years, the answer would have been much different than today. It took time - more than a decade away - but I was drawn back to the place I’d once considered a cultural and economic dead end. Today, I’m fond of mentioning that there’s no place I’d rather be.
The Vermont of today is much different than the Vermont of my youth, however. Or, perhaps it’s just that I’m much different than I was in my youth. More likely it’s a combination of both. Either way, I spend a great deal of time thinking about the Vermont I want for the future while hanging on to many of the elements of my rural heritage that have either been lost or are fast disappearing.
While observing my surroundings through the lens, I’m drawn by the aesthetic of rural landscapes, including the remnants of a way of life that has all but vanished over the course of my lifetime. I experience the nostalgia, without a doubt, but I also look for the lessons that help guide and ground me as I continue to define my own existence and legacy amid the meadows and forests that had been abandoned by rural hillside farmers nearly a century ago.