The Tuxedo Cat and the Wild Turkey

One thing that Stowe, Vermont and Newton Corner, Massachusetts share are tuxedo cats and wild turkeys.

Soon after Marash Girl made the acquaintance of Sam Von Trapp's tuxedo cat (scroll down to see yesterday's post on the subject), she looked out of her window to see that very same cat stalking an unperturbed wild turkey.  She watched the two animals closely; as the turkey was about to enter the forest, it turned toward the cat and "growled" a warning.  The cat literally stopped in its tracks while the wild turkey strolled into its forest.

Firstly, Marash Girl didn't know that wild turkey's could growl, and secondly, she certainly never thought that a cat would be frightened away by the likes of a wild turkey.

Chris Poacher, the erstwhile man about the mountain, one who knows all there is to know about wildlife, tame life, and mountain life in Vermont, answered the question.  Wild turkeys, he says, have spurs on the back of their legs with which to attack and do real damage to cats, among others.

No wonder Sam von Trapp's tuxedo cat stopped (thankfully, not dead) in its tracks!

 The Tuxedo Cat stalks the Wild Turkey - Trapp Family Lodge, Stowe, Vermont                                Photo by Marash Girl

The Tuxedo Cat at Trapp Family Lodge

While vacationing at the Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe, Vermont, Marash Girl received an unexpected phone call from the neighbor staying in the villa down the mountainside.  The woman at the other end of the line was desperate.  She cried out over the telephone:  "There's a tuxedo cat here.  Is it yours?  I've called everyone and I can't find its owner.  Somebody has abandoned this cat.  I know it! We summer on Cape May in New Jersey and folks are always abandoning their pets there.  The sea grass is full of feral cats.  And this is Friday; someone has left the Trapp Family Lodge and abandoned a tuxedo cat.  Please come and adopt it, please!"

Marash Girl replied:  "Have you called the main lodge to see if they know whose cat it is?"

Woman:  "No, I don't want to.  They'll send the cat away and it will be put to sleep.  No pets are allowed here!"

Marash Girl:  "I'll be right down to take a look."

When Marash Girl saw the beautiful, black, well-groomed, sleek tuxedo cat, she knew that the cat had not been abandoned, but her neighbor down the mountainside kept insisting that Marash Girl adopt the cat and take it home.  Marash Girl finally convinced the woman to call the main lodge.

The woman called, only to discover that the cat belonged to Sam Von Trapp, who had gone away for a few days and left the cat in the keeping of the lodge.

Thank goodness the woman had been unable to convince Marash Girl to "steal" Sam Von Trapp's beautiful tuxedo cat!

Farewell, Vermont . . .

There are plenty of deer in them thar hills, but no ticks!  Would that Massachusetts had Vermont's secret!

Good morning, Vermont!

                   "She'd walk a mile for a free cup of coffee." Trapp Family Lodge, Stowe, Vermont.
                                                                Photo by Marash Girl

Armenians in Watertown: The Artwork of Philip Hagopian

Randomly, Marash Girl left Joe’s and wandered into the newly-named Armenian Museum of America — and there was Gary Lind-Sinanian at the front desk, encouraging Marash Girl to head upstairs to the third floor gallery.  “The artist is up there now hanging paintings for his exhibit . . . you may like the paintings!”  And sure enough, Philip Hagopian was there mounting his often multi-dimensional (especially the ones inspired by his stay in Hayasdan) and neo-impressionistic (especially the paintings of Vermont) paintings.  Busy about his work, Marash Girl did not want to interrupt, but felt honored to be able to see the canvases before the crowds arrived on opening day (the very next day).  Heading back to the restaurant where she was to meet Marash Boy, she carried the image of one of those paintings with her and there, sitting at a table in Watertown Square's Not Your Average Joe’s, was the female subject painted in the Hagopian paintings Marash Girl had just viewed in AMA's third floor gallery.  Marash Girl approached her:  "Didn’t I just see you in the paintings hung on the museum walls upstairs?”

Philip Hagopian introduces his multi-dimensional paintings at the Armenian Museum of America.

Naira Hagopian photographs the audience, as they listen intently to her husband,
Philip Hagopian, talking about his paintings.

Old friends from Springfield, Massachusetts meet, and new friends greet. . .

"Our home in Vermont."

Naira Hagopian, modeling beneath the painting for which she was the model.

"You're so lucky to be living surrounded by Armenians.  We live in Vermont surrounded by mountains.  Not only are there no Armenians in Morrisville, Vermont, but when folks ask me where I'm from and I tell them Armenia, they answer, "Oh, yes, I know.  My grandfather was from Romania, too!"  (Marash Girl replied, "Better than saying, 'Oh, yes, I know; Turkish, right?'")

N.B.  Philip Hagopian was born in East Longmeadow, Massachusetts; his wife, Naira, was born in Armenia.

Willie's Village Auto, Stowe, Vermont

BUMP said the sign, just before the bridge, but there was no S at the end of the word,   so after we carefully went over the first bump, Marash Boy put on the gas, and we hit the second, third, and fourth bump at about 20 miles an hour, leaving us and our front and rear axle shaken up!  We were in the middle of nowhere, so we wended our way back to the lodge, and after asking where to go to check out our badly treated mode of transportation, we were handed a list.  The list included Willie's Village Auto in Stowe.  We telephoned. The nice lady on the other end of the line suggested we come right on over.  But it was 4:45, and as we carefully followed her directions, we found ourselves in the middle of the woods on a dirt road, going straight up the mountain.  Where was Willie's?  And although Marash Boy is averse to asking directions (he had followed, he thought, the directions to the T), because it was a mailman that Marash Girl suggested he ask, Marash Boy agreed, albeit reluctantly.  The mailman suggested we turn around and go back the way we had come; that Willie's was at the bottom of the mountain, at the cross roads, on the left.  But do you think they'll notice we're tourists and take us for a ride, as it were?  Well, answered the mailman, if you drive in there with a BMW and New Jersey license plates, I can't promise.  But what if we drive in there with Massachusetts license plates on a 10 year old Volvo?  50/50, answered the mailman.  But the mailman must never have been to Willie's. Read on to learn why.

Arriving at the crossroads at the bottom of the hill, we found Willie's Village Auto.  We drove in, parked our Volvo, wound our way on foot through the cars (in various states of disrepair) in Willie's lot,  and walked up to the office door.  The door was closed, but the key was in the lock.  Fearing that it was already 5 o'clock, and that the shop was closed, we knocked.  The woman sitting at the desk motioned for us to enter, which we did, greeting her with the words, "The key is in the lock of your door."  "Oh, that's okay," answered the young woman.  "We leave it there so that we won't forget where we put it; folks remind us all day long. . . that way, we could never forget!"  And those words were  the beginning of our hour at Willie's Village Auto. 

The owner, the mechanic, and the woman who managed the front office treated us like family, drove our 10 year old Volvo around, put it up onto the lift, found nothing wrong with the car except for the slightest rattle, and charged us what they usually charge their customers for putting a car up on the lift:  $25.00

So here is a shout, loud and clear, to any of you who may find yourselves in Stowe, Vermont, in an automotive quandary.  Call Willie's Village Auto (802) 253-8552 (100 Weeks Hill Road  Stowe, VT 05672-4114)

They tell it like it is and treat you like neighbors (even if you're from Massachusetts)!

The hills are alive with the sound of music . . . and the scent of apples!

Every fall, they would gather apples from the century old apple trees in the fields on top of Wilbraham Mountain, trees planted by their forebears, trees giving fruit to the children and grandchildren of the folks that planted the ancient trees in the rocky ground.  Some children sprayed the trees with insecticide, giving the grandchildren perfectly poisoned apples.  But as time passed, and people passed, so did the spray, and the trees once again were able to gift the children and grandchildren with apples borne of air and water.  More time passed, and the tornado of June 2011 took away that gift.

 
Now in November in the mountains of Vermont, having missed the joy of gathering apples on the top of Wilbraham Mountain, Marash Girl  wandered along the roads and trails of Stowe, spotting the occasional gnarled apple.

And then she looked up. . .

and kept looking up. All over the hills and along the roads and trails were wild apple trees bearing ancient fruit, fruit for the passerby (animal or human), fruit for the eye and the palate.  But it was already November, and the apples on the trees were no longer reachable -- above arm's length on the ancient trees, no ladder in sight . . .  but the occasional apple had fallen (and yes, not too far from the tree). 

Alert to the existence of the wild apples, Marash Girl, in a tarred parking lot bordering a rock strewn stream, spied,  nestled among the rocks, beautiful golden apples.

She looked above her and saw the tree that had shared its apples, still laden with gold, apples within arm's reach.  Climbing down onto the treacherous rocks and reaching up, Marash Girl, like a child who had not eaten for days, filled her pockets, her hands and her arms full of beautiful golden apples, apples from the hills and mountains of Stowe, Vermont. 

Wild organic apples, a gift from the past . . .

'The hills are alive with the sound of music . . . ' Trapp Family Lodge, Stowe, Vermont, in November

Emily - The Haunted Bridge: Gold Brook Covered Bridge, Stowe, Vermont

Emily's Covered Bridge -  Gold Brook Bridge in Stowe Hollow, Vermont, better known as the haunted bridge or Emily's Bridge . . . we wouldn't have thought to look for it if it hadn't rained for 5 days and we weren't looking for something--anything-- to take our minds off the rain. Even with a map, we had difficulty finding Emily's covered bridge.  The street signs were missing (the only streets we saw in all of Stowe that were missing signs, or so we thought) and the turn off to the bridge was significantly unmarked.  (Was this Emily at work?)

Gold Brook

The only way we found the bridge was by following Gold Brook up the mountain (granted the brook after all this rain was more like a river rushing down the mountain!)

Emily -- Emily, where are you, I called as I walked through the covered bridge,

snapping photos and bravely holding my camera in front of my face. 

But Emily must have mistaken my camera . . .

She must have mistaken my camera for a cross,

because I never did see or hear any sign of Emily.

Can you see Emily anywhere in these photos?

Let me know if you see her!

Safe at last! Although I did have to go back through the bridge to get to our car, believe me, I kept the camera in front of my face and kept shooting photos; just wanted to be on the safe side, as it were! Let me know if you'd like to check out the set of photos I took on the return through the bridge for a possible sighting of Emily!

As Emily is known to come out at night, I asked my husband if he'd like to return at night,  just to see if we could meet up with her.  "Oh, no!" he answered. "I'd be too scared!"

By the way, bridges were covered in New England in order to keep them free of snow and ice and to keep the horse-drawn carriages from slipping off into the freezing waters below. In Massachusetts, we call these bridges Kissing Bridges, as the bridges would keep sweethearts in Puritan New England hidden just long enough to steal a kiss without being seen!

For more information on Emily's Bridge, go to http://www.coveredbridgesite.com/vt/emilys.html
  

Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream, Stowe, Vermont & Marash Dondurmasu

 Even rain can't dim the joy of the graphics used by 
Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream!  Or so it seemed.

The fun was in the colorful imagery that greeted us and there it ended.

 

 The tour began with two rather "tasteless" cow jokes:
1)Why does a milking stool have only 3 legs? 

The cow has the udder!  

2)What do you call a cow who has just had a baby calf? Decaffeinated! 

 

Of the most interest was the pre-tour exhibit in the foyer containing photos and objects related to the history of ice cream making, and the history of Ben and Jerry's efforts (pictured above & below).

 The history of ice cream making, however, was limited to ice cream making in the United States.

We were continually reminded that we should be eagerly awaiting free samples of the new ice cream flavor Americone Dream. . . as if that would keep us focused on the speaker, who regularly referred to his favorite flavor (Chubby Hubby) and the fact that his wife didn't want him walking into the house with yet another free pint of Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream!

The view of the actual mechanical assembly line (where we were not allowed to take photos), watching ice cream mass produced in albeit sterile stainless steel, left me cold, as it were. But worse was watching the flushing of the system into overflowing barrels with sticky ice cream infused water ending up all over the floor washing into big drains. Marash Girl left the facility never wanting to purchase another pint of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream. Or any prepackaged ice cream, for that matter. . . And the promised sample of Americone Dream? We could eat as much as we wanted, that is, if we wanted . . . .

It was no wonder that Marash Girl left Ben & Jerry's wanting to purchase an ice cream maker (rather than Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream) in order to make Marash Girl's very own ice cream. [Or frozen yogurt from Marash Girl's very own home made madzoon (yogurt)!]

And why not?  After all, ice cream from Marash (Maraş dondurması) is the most famous in all of the Middle East!

Does anyone have the recipe?

Longfellow House in Vermont? Can't get away from Cambridge, Massachusetts!

From the internet: "In 1893 Vermont Governor Carroll S. Page built this house for his family on the bluff in Hyde Park, Vermont, not far from his boyhood home. A copy of the 1759 Georgian house in Cambridge, Massachusetts, known as the Longfellow House, it also had the latest gas lighting fixtures, a drinking fountain of Vermont marble, and made-to-order mirrored mantlepieces." Photo (taken in the rain) by Marash Girl

We had travelled for hours to stay at the Trapp Family Lodge in the north of Vermont. After two days of non-stop rain, we decided it was time to venture out, if only in an automobile.  And so we travelled further north, only to be greeted by the haunting image of our past.  Cambridge in Vermont?  It couldn't be!