On Tuesday morning in Vermont, it began to snow. A lot. But rather than heading straight home when we got into the car, Steve told me to plug in Hubbardton, Vermont into the GPS. He wanted to check out a grave of one of his ancestors.
We spent hours on unplowed rural roads to get to this cemetery. The cemetery was a small postage stamp off a field and up a hill with half foot of snow.
I thought I was going to die several times, no joke.
Old Samuel Churchill, Steve’s several greats grandfather, and his wife, Thankful, had a revolutionary battle fought in their front yard. They survived the battle, but the Indians and Tories burnt down their house and imprisoned the men at Fort Ticonderoga until they escaped. But those hardy folks, who were proud descendants of the second ship after the Mayflower, were too mean to die off. They were fruitful and multiplied and gave me my husband, so I am rather grateful.
Normally a six hour drive from Jersey to Stowe, we spent the whole day in the car. But we met an old relative, learned a new story, and drove through the most beautiful country side. I’ve been Zillowing the hell out of those towns looking for a fantasy vacation cabin.