sultry summer~body, mind & soul~southern vermont~for women

sultry summer~body, mind & soul~southern vermont~for women

Kelly Salasin:

Summer Fitness (wellbeing) programming for women in Marlboro, Vermont:

Originally posted on Kelly & Lila:


Celebrate the expansive energy of the sun with the nourishing energy of the moon~in a circle of woman gathering for retreat, relaxation, rejuvenation~with offerings & rates that flex with your summer schedule:

Let Your Yoga Dance Weekly Classic (since 2007)75+ minutes of integrating music & movementthrough the chakras to wind down your day… Tuesday Evenings, 7:00 pm to 8:15 pm, between June 23 & August 11 (as scheduled.) $55 for 5 classes (save $20) or $15 drop-in (ask about pre-pay discount.)

Let Your Yoga Dance Immersion (1st annual!) ~Burst into summer with a week-long morning LYYD practice 75+ minutes of invigorating music & movementthrough the chakras to launch each day! Monday, July 13th ~ Friday, July 17th 7:00 am to 8:15 am $55 for the week (save $20) or $15 drop-in (ask about pre-pay discount.)

Women’s Blue Moon RetreatWriting, ritual…

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A Village, Its School, Its Community

A Village, Its School, Its Community

(This is part of a series dedicated to our  local elementary school–the heart of our community–on the occasion of my last child’s graduation… count down–two weeks!)

Caroling, another Marlboro Elementary Tradition 2014, Junior High, Whetstone Inn

As an army brat and the oldest of eight children, I’ve seen my share of school performances–in places near and far.

Add to that the decades as an elementary teacher and you could say I’m a school concert officianando. (Lucky me!)

And just in case your experience is more limited than mine,  I’m here to let you know that Marlboro Elementary School (MES) events are by far the cream of the crop.

I saw my first MES performance in 1994 at Marlboro College, and felt the first quickening of my first born right in the Whittemore Theatre, aisle three, center left.

A handful of years later, that same child was on the stage exposing his belly to the audience in a kindergarten performance that was well past his bedtime.

The following year, he was in the “orchestra” sounding percussion for his class play beside his best buddy.  After watching the sword dance, Timmy leaned over and whispered to Lloyd: “How will we EVER do that?!”

A couple feet later with deepening vocal fluctuations, there they are, teenagers, dancing in the dark, with glowing sticks.

If Marlboro’s Holiday Concert isn’t your idea of a fun night out, it might help to look at it through the eyes of an anthropologist.  The rites of passage steeped in the curriculum that music teacher Charlene Morse offers, matches that of those tight knit cultures we admire.

From the enthusiastic participation of the primary room to the grumbling of the junior high, it’s all good–the stuff of coming of age in a strong community. The Youngers look up to  the Olders, and the Olders look up to the Alumni–who voluntarily return to the place they once couldn’t wait to leave.

There is Joseph, a Marine, standing on the stairs beside his fifth-grade teacher, David Holzapfel.
His brother Jesse is back on the stage playing drums.
There is Harry speaking to the audience–channeling the love of our community–to MES graduate Jesse Lopata at Dartmouth Hitchcock.
There is baby Chloe toddling now and there is baby Dylan, speaking!

Families who haven’t seen each other since summer days at South Pond reconnect, sharing snow and power-outage woes with continued offers of help.

Recent MES graduates linger in the lobby and the whole Reichsman family traipses by with equipment in their arms.

Winter is upon us and once again the pot of our community is stirred.

(Kelly Salasin, December 23, 2008)

Tribute to a School

Tribute to a School

Kelly Salasin:

Another graduation on the horizon. This time, our last. (GULP.)
How to say goodbye to a school community that has been a part of our lives for 21 years? Here’s how we did it the first-time around…

Originally posted on The Empty Nest Diary:

When you have a brand new baby
and your mom dies during your first-born’s first-week of kindergarten
you never forget the steady presence of
and gratitude swells  your heart forever.

And when that same kindergartener moves to first grade,
you thank HIS lucky stars, it’s
because no matter how distracted he is
she will find a way to love him.

And when the classrooms change and
becomes his teacher for the 4th year in a row
it’s no matter-
for with her, his thirst for learning is unquenchable.

And though, like most parents, you fear the demands of
you watch your son take charge
of himself and his work
with a glad heart
–and yours tugs when it’s time for him to leave this room;
though he, surprisingly, is

Ready and eager to move closer to the doors
that lead out of Marlboro Elementary School…

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Mother’s Day Morning in Vermont

Mother’s Day Morning in Vermont

Neringa Morning in May, Kelly Salasin, 2015

The miniature bouquets of bluets have arrived,
and the golden dandelions,
and the gift of morning dew on the Lady’s Mantle–a
Mother’s Day communion that I press into my Third Eye.

The ants are here too, building hills right outside my front door,
seeming to claim that spring belongs to us all;
while the woodpecker–the one who drums from deep in the woods–
lends a jungle sound to our Green Mountain home.

Mother’s Day…

That pause in May between
Mud Season and Bug Season,
just before the Campers arrive in their SUV’s to ready Neringa Pond
for a summer of (joyful) Noise.

My boys, still in their beds;
the oldest, just home from college, last night,
looking like my mother as he sleeps,
while his younger brother broadens briskly, taking our breath away.

Whetstone Brook, Kelly Salasin, 2015
Whetstone Brook, Kelly Salasin, 2015

I prepare a mug of Matcha,
dressed in the Kimono that Peggy passed along,
clad in my new cushioned flip flops,
and follow the sweep of my driveway…

to Her.

In this moment, beside the still waters,
I can’t imagine how I ever thought
of living Anywhere,
but Here.


a meditation on spring

a meditation on spring

The Universe has conspired to reveal signs of spring–even to me–who remains indoors, to spite herself, in a boycott of all unseasonable weather.

For days now, I’ve watched, as the single green seat cushion–the one that we bought on clearance, and placed outside–prematurely–atop one of the four metal seats, that came with the round patio table, that we brought home from the Marlboro Community Sale, on free day–takes a tour around my yard, compliments of a wintry wind.

At first it blew to the South, near the Birch that I loved when we first cleared this land for our home, but which over the years has become a stump of itself.

I worried that we’d loose the cushion, the only one we had, but I didn’t retrieve it.

The next day, I noticed that it had blown into the West, just past the raised beds.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…
Every year we added another,
and stopped at 7.

It was closer now, so I could easily grab it, but I left it there, out in the cold, while I remained inside.

I’m not sure what the cushion did during the nights, whether it headed North or over the house, but the next morning, I looked out from my bedroom to spy it near the outdoor shower, in the East, at the edge of the woods.

I left it there, until I came home that afternoon, and saw that it had moved closer, beside something of… color.


I dashed from the driveway, past the woodshed, and the tool shed, over the place where the remnants of the last snow pile left its debris, and up the stone path to the wannabee garden of perennials competing with weeds where we dug in a handful of bulbs despite our need for desire for immediate gratification.

There beside the fair cushion was the COLOR PURPLE!
The first color of spring!

I ran inside for the camera, and took a tour around the land–to each of the places where the cushion led,
and then brought it inside,
for safekeeping.

Sighs of spring…

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the fading of the kindergarten wall

the fading of the kindergarten wall

Kelly Salasin:

Vermont education.
One of kind school.
Locally shaped.
Globally conscious.
Community supported.

Originally posted on The Empty Nest Diary:

DSCN2882 Aidan at the bus stop, with his luggage.

3:36 pm. The school bus stops at our driveway, across from the pond, but no one gets off.

Our youngest, 14, has just, this very moment, touched down in Liberia, Costa Rica with his Junior High classmates.

When his older brother made the same trip a handful of years ago, I was a wreck; but he was only 12.

Still, I’ve splintered this entire day checking the status updates of Jet Blue and the posts in our parent Facebook group.

We brought our kids to school last night at 2:30 in the morning, and gathered in the parking lot in front of the bus until everyone arrived, and we chatted like it was normal to be there, in the dark, in the middle of the night, hanging out. Someone joked about getting breakfast afterward, and we all felt the longing for connection…

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