CELEBRATE THE SEASON:
The Lone Winter
by Anne Bosworth Greene

White Genesis
by Wayne Kelley

Let Them Eat Fruitcake
by Mary Lou Healy

IN THE FARMHOUSE KITCHEN:
Holiday Recipes

EVERYTHING WOOD HEAT:
Oh No! My Woodstove Has a Catalyst in It!!
by Daryle Thomas

VERMONT VERSES:
Thanksgiving
by Wendy Warfield

INTO THE OUTDOORS:
The Perils of a Long Winter's Sleeep
by Madeline Bodin

GET OUT AND ABOUT:
Vermont Country Calendar
Statewide Calendar of Events

EXPLORE OUR OTHER SEASONS:
FALL
WINTER
SPRING
SUMMER

If you didn't pass through Rural, Vermont to get to this site you may want to make a small detour.

It's worth the trip!

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Write Us:
weathervane
@ruralvermont.com
We welcome your comments, suggestions, and questions.

or call: 802-645-9631
RD 1, Box 680
West Pawlet, VT 05775

©1996-97 Vermont Weathervane
All rights reserved.

Thanksgiving
by Wend Warfield

Slow sap sinks lower to the roots of trees
Waiting for Spring to rise once more;
The harvest moon has come and gone,
The fields are stripped for winter's store
And all the animals are in.
By hayloft and corncrib's glutted bin
Each wide-eyed calf and skittish colt
Sloughs off confusion in the barn's close warmth
And grows accustomed to the men's slow hands
While pastures settle back to rest.
Contentedly the old team stands
Remembering winters gone before.
Up in the woodlot axes ring;
And cordwood mounting in the shed
Gives promise in the crisping air
Of fireside comfort just ahead.
This is the housewife's golden time:
Down in her cellar's spicy clime
Cool apples breathe and pumpkins shine,
The honey waits, and new-made wine.
Tomatoes, corn, and beans are there,
Pickles and jelly, jam to spare.
Sleek hogs hang high and lard-pails cool,
Green sausage sizzles in the pan.
More fattened turkeys, geese, and ducks
Depart for market, to be stored,
Transmuted into other things
To swell the table's growing hoard.
Along the timber top, the does
Sniff at the rising wind and hear
The cornfield stubble rustling low
Above the blanket of the snow.
Now memories of the cabbage butts
And carrots left behind last year
Must be transmitted to each fawn;
Before the day breaks into blue
Before the lights shine in the dawn
And rouse the farmer's dog to bark,
Dainty and furtive footsteps mark
Their silent visits in the dark.
This is the land our fathers won,
These are the fields that we have ploughed
And planted with our love and tears.
Above the rising wind of strife,
Above the blanket of the years,
We thank thee, God, for this bright life
With all its bounty's rich reward
And peaceful freedom still endowed.