Martha Molnar

It was a good turnout for something that had so little apparent relevance in a town with such a small Jewish community and so few people of color.

It was no great mystery why the turtle was crossing the road, but who knows why it decided to cross right in front of my bicycle.

Until recently, Vermont Fish and Wildlife was just another name among a murky sea of state agencies that I’d hear and read about occasionally, but didn’t think about much.

So it’s official: I’m not crazy. My iPhone has indeed lost its zip. It really is slow, sluggish, low energy. It’s unable to learn new things because its brain has reached its maximum storage capacity, resembling mine.

When we moved to Vermont a decade ago, my business clothes were left behind, along with many trappings of my former life.

The name doesn’t fit. Dead Creek’s miles of shallow waterway, wetlands and woods are teeming with life: swimming, flying, crawling life. And with the recent opening of its new visitor center, it’s likely to host many more mammals of the human species.

The automated teller machine or ATM turns fifty this year. And while I use it less these days, since I now pay for most things with credit, its anniversary reminds me of how a series of miscalculations and poor planning once stranded me in midtown Manhattan with less than a dollar in my bag.

Like July, our resident bobolink population has come and gone. The meadow has grown almost silent without the birds Emily Dickinson called “the rowdy of the meadow.”

Before we moved to Vermont, we lived in a wooded area north of New York City. Behind our tiny plot, some hundred acres of undeveloped land stretched away. We made it ours by walking in it, eating its berries and building tepee houses with fallen branches.

The tiny town of Poultney is putting on an ambitious annual Earth Day fair on April twelfth, featuring more than sixty exhibitors, a parade, free wood-fired pizza, musicians, entertainers, and a student science exhibit. The fair is sponsored by dozens of farm and environmental organizations, business groups, and schools, making it an event that involves the entire community and attracts people of every age and walk of life.

Finally, there’s snow!

When we travel to other states and mention that we live in Vermont, people immediately identify us with Bernie Sanders.

“Ah, you’re from Bernie Country,” somebody responded recently, speaking for most strangers we meet.

Many people don’t know that until recently Vermont residents over age 65 could attend up to two courses at any of our state colleges and universities free of charge although with no credit. Surprisingly, very few are taking advantage of this currently – a mere 78 people around the state – probably because few know about it.

The annual March Rutland business show was sold out of all vendor spaces three weeks before it took place – the earliest in its 23-year history – even as more spaces have been added every year to accommodate the growing numbers of people.

This is a story about two ducks and three people. In the interest of full disclosure, I confess that I’m one of the people.