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A Year Ago...

A Treehouse guest discovers his roots in an old millstone

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In spring 1794, a group of men set their shoulders to clearing land in what is now Lincoln, Vermont. The footpath they blazed into the forest eventually became a road named for the Quakers who came to settle with ox carts holding all their belongings. They were young, strong, and healthy. Once they pried rocks from the fields, they found the soil rich enough to support their crops. A year later, nearly one hundred residents, mostly from New York and Connecticut, scattered over 24,000 acres of wilderness, most living in tiny one-room cabins made from logs they hewed by hand from trees they had cut on their property. They cooked meals in stick-and-mud fireplaces, spun wool from their sheep, wove fabrics to make their own clothing, and cobbled shoes for their families. They hunted game in the forests and guarded their livestock from wolves that prowled the land. When the crops failed and game was sparse, they went hungry. Quaker services were held in homes until they built a m

Blood in the Sauce

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What a weekend the three gals from Syracuse picked for a visit to Fern Forest Treehouse. They had booked a year earlier, aiming for peak foliage season, and they hit it spot on. The maples put on a show of gold, orange, and crimson accented with deep green of the pines. Cool nights made for good sleeps and after a hike to the top of Mt. Abe and a soak in the hot tub, the trio hunkered down under blankets high in the trees. In the morning they shuffled in wearing onesies—a tiger, a lion, and a skeleton—for cups of hot black coffee.             Ashley, a singer-songwriter, is known as Syracuse’s “wild child rocker,” and her band, Professional Victims, has played nationally. By day Ashley works at a tech company selling secondary market tech hardware, but at night she takes to the stage in exotic outfits, her long dark hair swinging at her waist. On Saturday night we all sat by the wood stove and she played a few songs on her guitar and sang, her resonant voice effusing emotion. 

Nothing's impossible with love

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            “In dreams and in life, nothing is impossible.” Jared and Emily left this fortune cookie adage in the Treehouse guestbook when they checked out last weekend. It seems appropriate that I read it on the day of Meghan Markle’s wedding to Prince Harry because, as it turns out, Emily and Jared will follow their lead in the autumn of next year.             Jared was a bundle of nerves when he texted H about the best way to propose to Emily during their upcoming weekend at Fern Forest Treehouse. H suggested they climb Mt. Abraham and he pop the question at the summit. But it was a chilly day in mid-May and although they are both marathon runners, Jared wanted a venue more relaxing. We offered a couple other ideas—a soak in the hot tub, borrowing the mic at a local music concert, or taking the gondola to the top of the mountain in Stowe. None of those idea floated with Jared.  Finally, we suggested walking the Robert Frost inspirational trail in Ripton, where Frost lived for

Dogs to the rescue at Fern Forest Treehouse

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Looking for love? Try getting a dog. Then take said dog to the local dog park. Toss a ball and watch the canines chase it. Could be that one of those ball hounds belongs to someone looking for another someone just like you.              That happened to last weekend’s Treehouse guests Amy and Hans. Amy has a rescue sheltie-spaniel mix named Bean. Hans’s Allie, also a rescue, is a cross between a chihuahua and a whippet. For doggies who look so different, they seemed to get along fine at the dog park outside Boston. So fine, in fact, that Hans and Amy had plenty of time to get acquainted. After tossing balls and watching the pups play, Hans suggested he and Amy have coffee sometime. She agreed, and he said he’d call her. Trouble was, he walked away without getting Amy’s number. It was a slap-your-forehead moment for Hans, but he figured he’d see her again at the dog park.              Luckily, he did. This time after exercising the dogs, Amy pointed to a coffee shop across th

Lions and Tigers and a Fireman in the Treehouse—oh my!

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            When Kelly walked into the big cat house at Boston’s Franklin Park Zoo, she broke into tears.   She has wanted to be a zookeeper since she was in college but she was focused on ungulates, hoofed animals like giraffes, pigs, deer, and hippopotamuses. That was before she met the lions. In that single moment she realized what she wanted to do with her life.             Kelly is very pretty with a mane of long, lion-colored hair. Always protected by a barrier, she says the tigers are a challenge to train, but she trains the lions by praising them and giving treats when they do as she asks. She gets an old male to open his mouth so she can check his teeth and gums for sores, and if he has a cut on a paw pad, she has taught him to hold up his paw so she can reach through the mesh to apply an ointment. When the lion behaves badly, she ignores him and he doesn’t get a treat.              She gives her boyfriend Will a sideways glance. “You can train men that way, too,” she s

Caga Tió moves into the Treehouse

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           Last weekend's guests at  Fern Forest  brought us the tradition of the Catalon Christmas pooping log. That’s right—a log that poops—presents. Ari, from Catalonia, and Juan, from Colombia, brought their daughters Maia and Mar for a second visit to the Treehouse, this time with åvia (grandmother) Anna visiting from Barcelona. On one of their three nights with us, they told us that Santa doesn’t bring children gifts in Catalonia. They get gifts from Caga Tió , the log with a smiling face and a red stocking cap.               Beginning with the Feast of the Immaculate Conception on December 8, children place a bit of food in front of Tió every night and cover him with a blanket to keep him warm. If they take good care of the log, it will poop gifts for them. The tradition goes that on Christmas Day the children leave the room to practice their Tió de Nadal songs and pray for presents.             C hildren in Catalonia, it seems, are permitted free use of the

Every picture tells a story, every story shows a picture

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             My biggest regret about being a student at George Washington University in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s is that I didn’t take photos at the student rallies to protest the Vietnam War. I thought about those times this past weekend when Mike and Chantal visited Fern Forest. They’re both artists. Mike constructs public installations of huge mosaic tile images, and Chantal heads the graphic art program at Tufts. They had booked the Treehouse to celebrate the thirteenth birthday of their beautiful, dewy-eyed daughter Leyla.   Mike Mandel, "Myself: Timed Exposures, 1971"                   Chantal has published several books of her artwork, and I’m especially drawn to the images overlaid with words. The Turk and the Jew is my favorite, a visual documentation of her courtship with Mike. She’s from Turkey, a round-face beauty who holds the steady job while Mike fishes for projects. “Photographs are basically small pixels,” Mike says. “So why not blow up a ph

Treehouse pairs organic farming and English teaching

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             What do you get when you cross a dairy farmer with an English teacher? You get Jan and Bill from Gilbertsville, New York. This past weekend they took a break from their busy lives to spend a couple nights at Fern Forest Treehouse.             Never heard of Gilbertsville? I hadn’t either. A little over three hours northwest of New York City near Cooperstown, Gilbertsville has a population of fewer than four hundred citizens. Just one square mile in size, during the late 19 th and early 20 th century the town was a summer retreat for wealthy city slickers. The Major’s Inn, built on the site of Gilbertsville’s founder, is a 55-room historic mansion in English Tudor style. Nearby, a stone bridge arcs gracefully over Butternut Creek.             Bill’s organic dairy farm is just outside town. At 75, he is the 4 th generation to run the farm. A confirmed bachelor all his life, he’s about to pass the business on to his nephew, who pretty much runs the show now.