Vermont-A Trip and a Half

This is Stella. She is a Vermont girl. She picks her own carrots. She can ride her bike, not only with no training wheels, but standing up. I saw it. She is three years old.

Being in Vermont for me was like being on another planet. Sure, I've been around frogs and flowers before, and I know what grass feels like. But I have never picked a carrot out of the ground before. I knew they grew in the ground, and I've seen the pretty ones they have at Whole Foods, with the green part at the end, but I have never seen the process up close. Listen, as I've said before, you can take the girl out of New York, but...

To me, long carrots come in a bag with no green part and a over-feminized rabbit on the bag that says, "Bunny Luv". As we were picking carrots and tomatoes and lettuce (what what what???) from the garden, Oscar, a boy with a shaved head, was catching a frog. I'm not kidding. It was as if a Norman Rockwell painting came to life in front of my eyes. I rubbed them. Was I in 1950? Or 2008? I looked at Oscar. 1950. I looked at Stella. 1975.
It was groovy and swell at the same time.