Moonlight in Vermont

Hello friends & family, 

(Pro-tip: Maybe listen to this mix while you read this. I made it for you!) 

In the past two days, I have grown deeply acquainted with silence. After the bedlam of preparing to move across the country, peace is a welcome friend. This morning the predawn woke me around 6:15, and I Milk-Dudded around the guesthouse in the robe my mother-in-law just gifted me (it’s a weighty, lavish L.L. Bean robe of my dream that feels more like a hug than an article of clothing when you slip it on). I made coffee, cleaned cups leftover from the night before and took in the day slowly. A little later Jake and Cotton Gin stirred, and by the time I had gotten out of the shower my husband had busied himself over the griddle in the kitchen, scrambling eggs, and sizzling bacon. We have a breathtaking view of the green mountains Vermont is so well-known for from the bedroom window, and as I dried off the sun was breaking above them with a jubilant shock of pink. 

Though life isn’t all tranquility here –– we’ve got our work cut out for us –– an overarching sense of calm blankets this place and it’s something Jake and I are both grateful for. I’m equally indebted to Atlanta and every opportunity the city offered us, and am eager to put the lessons it taught me to work. For instance, being measured in getting to know our new community slowly and surely. Being sure of ourselves and what we’re setting out to accomplish. Knowing the importance of healthy boundaries with the people you work with and encounter. And –– here’s the big one –– not overcommitting myself to a point of inefficiency.

We are now the stewards of an incredible 120 estate owned by Tom and Karen Reed, Joe Lord Farms. It’s our hope, overtime to make this land work for them in a few different ways. Come spring, Jake will be working with the earth and farming. The greenhouse arrives on Tuesday, and over the winter he’ll be working to get the infrastructure for the farm together while also helping Ed Sayers, the most recent property manager and the man who built the homes here, build out our future home above one of the two barns. 

Meanwhile, I’ll be working with Tom and Karen to prepare the two houses on the property available for short-term rentals, while also establishing a musician and writers residency on the property. My hope is to offer talented musicians, composers, writers, and curators the chance to get to know this silence that had become such a stranger to me in my own artistic pursuits. There’s magic in solitude. It’s just a matter of standing still and listening. Thinking. Breathing. 



P.S. Much gratitude to those of you who reached out with condolences for the loss of our dear friend and pup, Wolfman Jack. It means a lot that he was loved by so many of you. As you can imagine, it's a little too fresh for me to write about my grief at the moment. But someday I hope to commemorate him in writing. He was so important.