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Skills for Country Life (“Country” 3)
[You can see the earlier “chapters” of this adventure here: “Country” 1, and “Country” 2.]
My teen years in Montclair, NJ, didn’t provide much preparation for life on the side of a Vermont mountain — or, as I soon realized, a “ridge.” The named mountaintop was an hour’s hike away from the house. But our rented Paradise offered a wide vista westward, a constant chorus of bird calls, and closer neighbors than I would have guessed: four-footed ones.
“Cow fencing” outlined the field across the road from the house. And the field to the left side … and the field to the right side. Enormous black-and-white Holsteins grazed in the lower field, and others surrounded the yard on our side of the dirt road.
Mrs. P, the 60-something farmer operating the dairy farm down the road, stopped by now and then to check on the cows. Or perhaps on us. With a pair of cookbooks to instruct me, I struggled to keep a jar of cookies stocked in case she visited; it seemed like one way I could prove I was fit to be a country mom and wife.
The 1850s house, with its lovely wide-board floors and obviously original window frames (even some rippled glass in a few panes, which thrilled me), made other on me. It needed attention in ways I hadn’t imagined: propane tanks to be refilled regularly (yes, the tall one would fit in the back of…
