"RiverSong West Branch" is the name of my home in Rochester, Vermont. I live here with two cats and a dog, and a seasonal population of birds, red squirrels, owls, hawks, mice, woodchucks, foxes, coyotes, and the occasional bear or moose that wanders through and then thinks better of it. I took over a house that was unfinished and all but abandoned, and 7 years later it's still a work-in-progress but we're getting there.
When I first looked at it, it wasn't even on the market, but the young man who built it -- and now lived elsewhere -- wanted to move on. The place was piled high in old-time Vermont-backroad style with piles of trash, boats, snowmobiles, trailers, and the inside was stuffed with tools, building materials, and more trash. It was missing half the windows, most of the plumbing, and a heating system. Hmmm...I don't think so.
Then I went back when he wasn't there. I climbed in the door-less entrance(there were no steps) and stood in the middle of the future living room, looking out at the small pasture spread out in front of the house. The whole north wall contained tall windows, and you could see up the valley, where the lower wooded hillsides folded together. Along the west property line was a double row of mature maples and ash trees, flanking a quiet lane that ran along the riverbank. The river itself -- the West Branch -- flowed through a deep, rock-studded ravine on its way from the watershed below Brandon Gap, to its confluence with the White River.
Then I walked the property, slowly and thoughtfully. The rest of the two acres consisted of a strip of woods on the slope above the house to the south, studded with giant pines, cherry, and yellow birch. Everything was very overgrown, with strands of fencing to trip you and pencil-thin saplings growing thickly together, making passage a slow and careful process.
There were three occupied houselots beyond, and then the road changed to what in Vermont is termed a "Class 4" road -- town-owned but unmaintained, basically a jeep track that climbed up and up into a wooded hillside. As I wandered along an overgrown hedgerow near the house, a small brown bird sat atop a shrub and belted out a melodious string of notes. A sparrow: what kind, I wondered. Returning back to the living room, as I pondered the scene, I had the distinct sense that this place was speaking to me.
Then I walked the property, slowly and thoughtfully. The rest of the two acres consisted of a strip of woods on the slope above the house to the south, studded with giant pines, cherry, and yellow birch. Everything was very overgrown, with strands of fencing to trip you and pencil-thin saplings growing thickly together, making passage a slow and careful process.
There were three occupied houselots beyond, and then the road changed to what in Vermont is termed a "Class 4" road -- town-owned but unmaintained, basically a jeep track that climbed up and up into a wooded hillside. As I wandered along an overgrown hedgerow near the house, a small brown bird sat atop a shrub and belted out a melodious string of notes. A sparrow: what kind, I wondered. Returning back to the living room, as I pondered the scene, I had the distinct sense that this place was speaking to me.
I never thought I would be able to own a house by myself at middle-age. This blog will chronicle my work around the place, the learning that took place, the decisions I made, to make it not only a home for myself but a "backyard wildlife habitat." Bits and pieces will be taken from older notes I made in the early days. I'll also add images taken through the seasons.
It's a new adventure to share my experience with the world, and I do so in hopes that some deeper truths will emerge...
Stay tuned!
Julia
