Category: VT Survival

And Then There Was Light

And Then There Was Light

by Kelly (of rituals) ♥ 1 Comment

Just before Christmas, our small town in Southern Vermont was the center of a magical and destructive ice storm leaving us without power for seven days.

By the sixth day, I hit ROCK bottom and packed up my family up for a hotel–twenty minutes away.  There we reveled in electric lighting, showers–and most of all–flushing toilets.  This poem was written in a moment of delirium when we arrived back at our home the following day.


And Then There Was Light


And on the seventh day we rose

from the comfort of the HOLIDAY Inn

and climbed back to the heights of Marlboro

And there at the mouth of our road

we came upon men of GOOD will,

wearing hard hats beneath BRIGHT trucks.

And our mouths fell silent

of the PRAISE we had intended to spread

upon this long-awaited sight

And they hung there open

as we ascended MacArthur

SEEKING at each crossing

the familiar toppled tree or strewn line

only to discover…

NONE!

And with great ANTICIPATION,

we turned up our drive,

scanning our home

for any SIGN,

And stepping into our mudroom

giddily flipped the switch,

only to find…

NOTHING!

But just as we wearily lifted our bags

up the dark and dirtied stairs,

an unusual sound was heard.

And we looked at each other

concerned

And then turned toward the stove to SEE

great NUMBERS flashing

and exclaimed in bewildered WONDER

“THE POWER IS ON!

THE POWER IS ON!”

And without flushing toilets

or filling refrigerators

or washing mounds of dishes,

We flew to the porch

with pots and pans

to send out our JOYFUL wishes.

We whistled and whooped

and rang out GREAT JOY

To the gentlemen of CVPS

and all other electric crews NATIONS.

Who knew that a week before Christmas

could bring such GLEE

as we turned on the carols

and welcomed

each LIGHT

on the tree.

Kelly Salasin, 2008

To read Kelly’s posts about the Ice Storm of 2008, before the glee, click the links below:

Cat Scan 3:00 a.m.

Survivor Sours

Dial Up? Seven Steps for Sanity~

Dial Up? Seven Steps for Sanity~

by Kelly (of rituals) ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

by Kelly Salasin

If I had a dollar for every time somebody asked me,

But how do you blog (or Twitter, or Facebook or even “NING”) with dial up?

I could pay off the telephone company and finally get the high speed they’ve been promising to these backroads of Vermont.

But until then, I’d like to share what I’ve learned about remaining sane while relying on the ever-so-slow dial-up connection:

#1 Don’t use dial up~

Save activities that demand high speed  internet for your weekly visit to the wired cafe (or the school parking lot where many of my neighbors can be found on their laptops.)  If you don’t have your own laptop, visit the library.  To maximize your time in the “connected” world, keep a folder (virtual or paper) with all of your wi fi needs as they arise in the moment.

#2  Relish in the convenience of your own home~

Realize that you don’t have to get dressed, comb your hair or buy a really expensive coffee when you work from home.  When a page is loading, go shuffle off to your own kitchen in your favorite sweatshirt to make that free cup of jo.

#3  Develop the habit of regular email communication~

If your friends and business folks are accustomed to contacting you by email, they won’t expect to reach you via phone—and thus won’t complain that your line is always busy. (On the upside, you’ll never interrupted by a phone call when you’re working on line.)

#4  Multi-task~

Like I mentioned above, when a page is loading, go do something else: make some lunch, hang up the laundry, put the laundry away, file your nails, clean your desk–anything that will distract you from the frustration of waiting.

#5  Multi-task some more~

Work with several “pages” at once so that while one is loading you can read or write on another, thereby maximizing your productivity if your laundry is already done and someone else made your lunch.  Special note: Resist the urge to repeatedly click a page that won’t open.  Why? Because then you will be forced to wait for mutiple loadings of the same page without being able to do anything.  (Guess how I’ve learned this one, over and over again!)

#6  Surrender to Dial-Up as a Spiritual Practice~

Don’t expect anything else.  It is what it is.  If you want the conveniences of the world, move back to civilization.  Allow the “waiting” to be an exercise of patience.  Practice your breathing.  Do some eye exercises.  Shake out your hands. Be here now while you watch the spinning wheel.  Instead of cursing it,  allow its rainbow colors to balance your chakras.  (If all else fails, time to take a break!)

7.  Have fun!

If you’re not having fun, what’s the point?  This is your life, and the only one you get.  Find another way to meet your internet needs.  Share an office space downtown.  Make friends with someone who has high speed and sit in her driveway.  Be creative! Remember why you live where you do. Take a walk and find that place of gratitude for the “disconnected” life… and breathe… until that day that they FINALLY find a way to connect us all to highspeed.

#8-21? Did I miss anything?

Do tell if you have dial-up sanity measures of your own to share (or let me know which ones of mine work best for you.)


The bold and daring, Kelly Salasin, authors 6 blogs from the backroads of Vermont where her legendary dial-up endurance has found its way into her poetry.

Halloween Vermont Style

Halloween Vermont Style

by Kelly (of rituals) ♥ 3 Comments
A family of pumpkins on the back porch, photo: Will DeBock

“I really like the houses where we sit down and talk to people.”
Aidan, age 14 (last trick or treat?)

Halloween is a unique experience of community in rural Vermont. Unlike the warp speed of suburban trick-or-treating, there’s lots of downtime (aka. distance) between houses here–either by foot or by car. This took getting used to at first, but my kids were born here so they never knew the difference.

Over the years, I’ve come to treasure this slowed experience, taking cues from my kids, who seemed unfazed by the pace, stopping in at homes to sit and visit, munching on the baked goodies while we talk, and getting acquainted with members of the community we may know only from sight.

Each family has their own highlights for sure. I know that mine loves the bit of walking we do from house to house on our mile-long dirt road, bumping into others in the dark and banding together as we arrive to spend time with neighbors.

Margaret and John’s has been a favorite over the years, and we feel the sting of her loss now.  Jean at the Inn is another highlight–with hot cider for all, and amazing cookies for the kids (they always share …after I beg.)

Rachel and Pieter live way out from the center of town, but their homemade donuts are worth the  drive. Then there’s Gail’s fudge up on the hill, and Megan’s pumpkin seeds and blonde brownies. (We miss her old dog Millie.)

When Kirsten was teaching at the school, she made homemade taffy in her kitchen on her back road; now Liz and Craig share homemade treats there.

Sometimes, there’s a bonfire down North Pond Road; and often a moonlit view from atop Cow Path 40.

On a warmer Hallows Eve, we’d eat dinner in the small cemetery on Fox Road.  Our friend Jesse is there now so we’ll at least stop to leave something at his headstone.

The hardest part of a rural Halloween for me is that we never get many trick-or-treaters ourselves. I love that knock on the door, and the sight of costumed child on my porch whose bag I get to help fill with treats.  Now I bring the treats with me so that I can share them with friends along the way.

“Popcorn or candy?” I’ll ask.  The kids take the popcorn.  The adults all want candy.

Kelly Salasin, 2009

ps. Click here for “Candy Capitalism.”