Monday, September 5, 2016

The Bridge: My Fourth Summer in Greensboro.

Four years ago, I stumbled upon the summer resort village of Greensboro, Vermont: A peaceful small town in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont a dozen or so miles from the Canadian Border, and Summer home of writer Wallace Stegner.

The next year, a brand new organization in town called the Greensboro Arts Alliance and Residency was born, and I attended their first social gathering at the Lakeview House, while staying in a cottage at Highland Lodge, overlooking the shores of Caspian Lake. The following year, I took a train to White River Junction and drove a rental to Greensboro and Westmore (to stay at the Willowvale Inn). This time around (in a quest to do something different each year) I found a place in the nearby town of Hardwick, and made it my base for the latest meeting, which was being held at the Highland Lodge, funny enough.

My apartment was located on the first floor of a giant mansion near the center of town.


(I would love to come back someday and record in some of the massive, high-ceiling rooms there)

With a rushing river outside my window, and the center of town on the other side, it was a very interesting place to hang out, and my host, Sara made sure I was set up very nicely.



One of the routes that I would take to cross the river into town was along a wooden suspension bridge that would vibrate and sway underneath the rushing waters as I walked along it. 



At The Highland Lodge, I walked around the equally ancient building and made note of a furnishings, which almost always includes a piano.



At the writers forum, Young Adult Author Katherine Paterson was the featured speaker, she has had three movies made from her books so far, and one of them is titled "Bridge to Terabithia". Having this bridge symbolism occurring on multiple fronts, it made me think of the journey I made to Saskatchewan, and now the trips to Greensboro.

Where was it all really taking me? I wondered.

 I am still deep in the process of adventure in search of (and discovering) the meaning and some of the secrets to his gifts of articulating and making sense of life, and doing so in such brilliant and colorful detail. Most of the people in the room seemed to be in touch with this meaning and their own gifts as well. It is a small group, but its a small town, with some big-hearted and generous people.



The common traits we all possess is our being drawn to the same energy of creativity, which drives us to then go out and accomplish what it is that inspires us all so. As I wandered out into the night air afterward, I had become friends with more of these individuals, and became that much closer to the soul of the Northeast Kingdom, and the wellspring of inspiration that flows like the waters that feed serene Caspian Lake.