We are back in Vermont, back at the cabin for the third year in a row. It feels familiar now: the wood stove, the bedroom nook just off of the kitchen, the chalkboard near the bathroom. The goats are still here, but the ducks are gone and many of the chickens did not make it another year.
There are three new baby goats and my children soon gain their trust. They let the goats out on their own, help the caretaker with chores when she stops by, and say goodnight to them before it is dark. They pull down branches from the large evergreen tree and the goats stand on their chests to reach the needles.
This year the snow is the deepest, the pond and stream mostly frozen over. We snowshoe around the property, one day hiking the hill behind us back to New York. On the way we pass the second largest red oak in Vermont. It has lost a large limb, but the trunk is still thick and gnarly as it stretches toward the sky. My son puts his arms around its base, giving it a hug. On the way back, several deer bound through the snow nearby.
Our days fall into a different kind of rhythm. There is no email, no streaming, no rush to get out the door. There is only us and the cold and the goats and the woods. My children and husband play hide and seek in the nearby Christmas tree farm, their imprints in the snow circling the trees.
We play board games and my children learn how to use Lincoln Logs. Every night we watch a movie on a DVD together. There’s the warm fire and popcorn, chocolates and cups of tea.
Some days we venture past the cabin. We shop at local businesses and visit the summer home of Abraham Lincoln’s descendants. The goats are always waiting for us when we return.
As each day passes, a sadness grows because I know this is our last year here. The goats will be moving on in the spring. I try to soak up every moment but time will not stand still for me. l look back at pictures of our first year here and my children look so much younger. This place with its quiet woods and animals have changed them, have changed all of us. I’m not sure how much they will remember as they grow, but I will look back on this place and know that our times here were some of our happiest.