Good morning, all! This seems to be the first post after the BH Partners meeting. I want to thank everyone for what I think was a really informative and lovely meeting... It was terrific spending concentrated time with so many of you whom I've not seen for over a decade. Love for Butterhill and its many traditions came through loud and clear. Those of us on the BHOP team are so happy that we've gathered some basic ideas and tenets to help us all move forward, and that everyone contributed so many heartfelt and thoughtful ideas.
But this post is to make a small confession. Poaching at Butterhill is a serious offense (did we vote on a consequence for that?)—almost as serious as adding or changing something. I'm trembing as I write this, but I hope my family will be forgiven for a small but important unintentional poaching. Those of you with sharp eyes who check out the pegboard in the kitchen with all the antique copperware may note that a small tiny bucket is missing. It holds about a half cup. When we all gathered to inter my dad's ashes a few days ago, we were searching for an appropriate "scooper" so we might pass around his ashes and all participate in the ritual of putting him in the earth. The copper bucket was elected, and off we went. I put out an SOS when I saw that it was not back on the board yesterday when I left the house.
Rest assured that Alex Hong did not take it back to his fancy restaurant to use as a high-end implement (although those lobster molds are inspiring him to do some weird foamy thing someday). It turns out it was put back in the box that held Deek's ashes, along with the plastic bag that muffled it so I didn't hear anything rattling around in there when I handled the box. My brother Steven thought it might be in there (because he put it there...) and it's a good thing he 'fessed up or it might never have been found. I have it in my possession and will get it back to BH as soon as I'm able to pass through central Vermont again. The devastation from the floods is horrible. I spent 2.5 extra hours on gravel back roods in the north country trying to find my way around Montpelier yesterday, just to get home. Note to self: Always keep a paper map in your car. It saved me in the land of no GPS service. Kate's family got caught right in the middle of severe flooding last Tuesday and were evacuated to the Berlin Elementary School to spend the night. They had a jolly time sleeping in a school counselor's office, where they opted to take their kids instead of the gym, with all the poor street people of Barre who were on cots under flourescent lights. They snuck in and stayed after everyone else had been evacuated again at 2a to the "official" emergency center. Galen loved that he had a playground all to himself and wanted to stay another night, so I think the kids went with the idea this was a great adventure. Why do these things alway happen to families with children, or people who have nothing to begin with? Anyway, we are all safe and those who left earlier than I to make planes yesterday managed to get through. I think my timing coincided with the repair crews, who were starting to clean up and so closed more roads. Rain is forecast in Vermont for another week on already saturated soils, so I hope any of you planning a BH visit in the near future stick to the interstates for awhile—and stay out of Vermont.
All drama aside, it was lovely staying at Butterhill with my sibs and all their children—even on the serious occasion of celebrating my father's life—and the younger cousins are talking about a week there next summer. I think just bringing our kids there is the way to remind them of the magic. Butterhill does its job on that score; we have to do ours to preserve it as best we can.
Love to all, Susan
