Beautiful things for Dark Times...
Reluctant Vermonter & vintage collector with a penchant for mid-century ceramics, bohemian luxe, Victorian oddities and abandoned chairs.
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It has been a gloriously beautiful and melancholy Vermont autumn throughout which I have spent alot of time driving out to our old farmhouse in the country readying it as an airbnb rental. The long quiet drives through the back roads to and fro became a vivid meditation on color and the relentless passing of time and season. We started our family in the old Wardsboro house in 2004 and our sweet dog Grizzly came to us there in August of 2006. Grizzly passed suddenly a few weeks ago and I am heartbroken.
He accompanied me on the back and forth throughout the fall, settling himself on the porch or in the grass in the sun as I bustled around cleaning and hanging curtains. So where do the boots fit in? I am not sure if they do, but I feel it necessary to mention my fuzzy guy before moving on... so, other day my dear friend Melissa invited me to coffee - she was a friend to Grizzly and she knew I needed a shoulder to cry on. Over chai at The Valley Cafein Bellows Falls, we talked of dogs and life and the conversation turned to boots as it so often does. She leaned forward and told tell of boots so special, so glorious, so kick-ass, that she spotted at a thrift store up the street just the day before. And how she tried and tried to force her feet into them! how she rolled around the floor in a sweaty grunting mess! and how she didn't care that she looked like a mad woman! She so wanted these boots: vintage Timberland knee high lace up boots: ass-kicking and burnished to perfection.
But alas, she was defeated. But guess what, they fit me.