Education - A long View

I love to teach every single age. I love to be taught by every single age. I've learned over the past few years how much one becomes the learner when stepping into the mentorship role, and how much I LOVE to be in a real life, nature-based educational atmosphere with people of ALL ages and ALL walks of life. I think I can safely say, everyone at Bread & Butter Farm shares a similar sentiment. 

Upon first arriving to Bread & Butter Farm, my dream was to work with teenagers. Corie aptly reminded me that the best way to find those teenagers, is to develop trust and friendships with kids. And when those kids grow up, there you have the teenagers you've been waiting for. Well, here we are. We have those incredible teenagers...perhaps you, the reader are one of them. And additionally, we have the new beautiful generation of kids coming up right behind them. And it's a cycle we at the farm are humbled and crazy enthusiastic to be swirling within.

These kids and teens light up our life. I love their quirky ways, their questions, their hesitations, and their realness. Teenagehood was a time during which I truly struggled and yet, my struggle has become one of my greatest sources of light. I hope to be there to lift up, light up, and support the teenagers in our community to fly and find their own powers and light. I am a firm believer in giving our children and teens places to be seen, heard, and places to take on real life responsibility, acting as leaders to one another and learning how to become the best versions of themselves that they can imagine. I strive to be there to step in and and hold up some of the most capable demographic in our community, to support them in finding their strength and voice, and to guide them to love and maintain the spark they were born with. 

 Perhaps all of this can help to pave the way for more learning from and with ALL ages and walks of life here at Bread & Butter Farm. 

With love,

Bekah

Edjumakayshin
a Poem by Bekah Gordon
 

Education.
How has this dry word come to symbolize something so whole, so out of this world?
Let's redefine learning. Jumble up the paradigm.
Call it Edjumakayshin!
Learning here at Bread & Butter Farm is the creation no, the manifestation of a whole startling planet of things that I can only begin to name:
Unconditional trust, yes this is one of them. 
A safe space to fly, yes this too.
Building friendships, and vulnerable hearts.
It is pushing buttons, boundaries, paradigms.
It is a stew of elderly reminiscing, catching whiffs of a time past and
the young, sparkling with wonder and racing thoughts.
The teenagers testing the waters and the middle aged turning to new chapters.
It is a quilt of beings which unites families that surpass genetics and blood lines,
religions, affiliations, gender, race, and preference.
It forges ties through soil, toil, weather, and shared experience.
From baby to elder, the moments of spark and learning never stop.
Day in and day out, every interaction plays a role.
The senses are open to each other and to the landscape.
Questions opening doorways to more questions.
Coyote tracks and square dancing,
Baking and seeding,
Chewing, carving, digging, and building,
harvesting, meetings, good mornings and sunsets,
calm, fast, sunshine, and rain.
Sometimes planned, mostly not.
Edjumakayshin. That sounds more like it.  

Learn more about all of our education programs here. 

February 23, 2018

Happy Friday!

The pre-emptive glimpse of spring this week meant a breadth of fresh air for our winter greens as we raised the sides of our hoop houses for the first time this year (though, we don't expect this to become routine quite yet). In support of our effort to fully close our cattle heard, we welcomed 7 beautiful animals from a nearby farm to our land. And, our weekly staff meeting was filled with ideas and dreams of what our CSA might become in the coming months and years (keep your eyes and ears open for developments!). 

Our camp directors Bekah and Ethan have poured themselves into further honing the Leader in Training (LIT) program for this year's summer camp season. This program fits within our mission to create meaningful roles and learning opportunities for people of every age and stage here on the farm. Bekah has been particularly inspired to develop our work with teenagers, and she shared a bit from her personal manifesto on education and mentorship in her letter below, and in her poemEdjumakayshin. 

Though we're brief on farm news this week, we're full in ways to engage right now; learn more about our Spring CSA sign-up, Leader in Training Summer Camp Applications, and our on-farm women's Yoga & Brunch !

Warmly,
Lauren & The Bread & Butter Farm Team

It's Good to Be Back

It's Good to Be Back

by Alex Gemme

Village School Fire

TiKahh..TiKahh..TiKahh..TiKahh...  The sound of sparks echos around the circle.  Snow is just beginning to fall outside of the shelter, and there is anticipation in the air.  The spark catches and, breath by breath, it is brought to life as singing fills the air.  Growing until the entire fire structure is engulfed.  Smiles go around the circle and we settle in to warm our toes as a story is told.

After we finish our snacks, we prepare ourselves for an epic game of Turkey and Coyote.  A simple game, but with clear relevance to our ecosystem.  Its our first day back in over a month and there is a lot of energy around base camp.  The weather couldn’t be better, with calm winds and snow expected for most of the day.  Already our tracks are filling in and visibility becoming blurred.  Few animals are out and about today, and the only sound that breaks the silence is the occasional call of the raven, dampened by the fresh snow.

A lot has changed in the past six weeks, since the last time we were all together.  Base camp has had a roof constructed and firewood is stacked in preparation for the cold months ahead.  Two more people have also just joined our community and folks couldn’t be more eager to show them around.   

Between the ages of 7 and 28, we now make up a group of eight enthusiastic, curious, thoughtful and creative kids.  Together we observe and question, follow tracks and work together, explore new places and learn new skills.

We head out from our shelter, running whopping and sliding through the freshly fallen snow.  With no thought of the past and little thought to the future, we chase the slowly fading tracks of the wild turkeys down the hill, in hopes of catching even a glimpse of these majestic birds.

For the next 4 months, we will be coming together weekly, cooking our lunch over the fire and getting to know our landscape in a deeper and more intimate way.  I reflect as I sit back in my post-lunch sit spot.  The snow is falling harder and the smell of woodsmoke drifts through the air.

I take a deep breath in.  

Its good to be back.

This story was written by Village School mentor and farmer, Alex Gemme. Photos were captured by both Alex and Bekah Gordon, and audio was recorded by resident environmental artist, Nancy Winship Milliken. 

February 16

If 35 deg. Farenheight already feels balmy in the mid-Vermont winter, then try spending a couple of minutes in our -40 degree storage freezer. Walking outside feels equivalent to teleporting to Hawaii. Corie, Brandon and I finally tackled the looming meat inventory project, which has been a big to-do on our collective plate (inventory & beach teleportation, equally). It helps us plan out the rest of our year in terms of meat sales, and guides how we approach expanding our animal herds. It was fun and frantic to sort through all of the beautiful pieces: bacon, spare ribs, chuck roasts and sirloin steaks, tenderloins and bones. Inspiration for so many cooking projects swirl somewhere between my taste buds and imagination (recipes to come!). 

This week, Corie also gave our farm store freezer a make-over and created an informational cut sheet - two simple elements that have disproportionately elevated the meat-perusing experience. Yes: It has never been easier to find & bring home the bacon. 

Considerations for bacon, inventorying and long term herd planning are also culminating right now in our animal barn. We time our herds' birthing periods with specific seasonal landmarks so that our mamas and babies have access to the right nutrition and environmental conditions to thrive. We plan for farrowing (the birth of the piglets) for May, but recently learned that our pig's have other plans. Our two new-mamas-to-be, Georgette and Freya (namesake: lover in the night - this is clearly our fault) became pregnant earlier than we had hoped and planned for. The signs of their pregnancies are starting to become more obvious, and we believe that they may farrow in the next month. This means piglets in winter, before mud season, and before Gertie, our Sow gives birth, creating significant management challenges for us. Gertie and Elmer (the boar) are having pregnancy troubles of their own, and this cycle is Gertie's last chance to become pregnant in time for spring farrowing. So, join us in sending fertile thoughts and support to her!! 

Outside of animal world, it feels like every day there is more and more happening to engage kiddos in our farm and landscape. The first week of Village School was last week, and this semester welcomed some new faces, young and old(er). Long time farm friend Braden has just joined Bekah and Alex as a co-mentor, and the tribe grows. Alex shared a vivid window into what life is like in a day of Village School in his story "It's Good To Be Back", below. 

We are also excited to collaborate with another good friend of the farm, local herbalist and educator, Kenzie McDonald, who will lead kid's herbalism classes here this winter. Kenzie is also the inspiration behind our herbal themed camp week this summer, and we feel incredibly grateful for her knowledge, energy, and skill working with students of all ages. 

And lastly, movement continues bit by bit in the greenhouses. This longer bout of warm weather means that we can begin watering, and the first five beds were broadcast seeded with salad mix and cilantro seed on Monday. Normally, we plant in rows, but we love to experiment, observe and adapt - so we'll keep you informed as to how this experiment goes. 

We are lucky to have the ability to try new cultivation methods and develop our practices - and much of this freedom is created by selling our food through the CSA model. We truly appreciate the commitment of our CSA members, whose support creates so much stability and opportunity for us as a business. Registration for our Spring CSA Shares began this week, and we hope you join us! If so, you'll be the first to try our broadcasted Cilantro. 

February 9

So much bright and light this week. The lingering sunlight has finally reclaimed the afternoon.

Even though the ground is still frozen, now insulated with an entirely fresh blanket of snow, we have felt a perceptible jump in day length signaling the assured approach of spring. We are nearly midway between the winter solstice and spring equinox, and can sense a shift in our hoop houses. During the winter, plant growth slows to all but a frozen halt, and we must harvest sparingly to assure that we leave enough leaves to do the photosynthetic work for each plant. We are pleased to announce that their growth is, once again, perceptible.

The stretching day length is also our cue to slowly begin movement towards spring plantings. We’ve begun to turn over the garden beds in hoop house 2, and have seeded the very first few trays of what will be our earliest kale transplants. This, while Alex still races to finish the crop plan before the real plants get ahead of him.

And, inspired by the transition from the slow, darkness of winter, back towards movement and light, Corie has co-organized a women’s rejuvenation retreat series that will take place on the farm in our classroom space. We invite you (sorry men, ladies only) to gather with us, one morning a month to share in movement, meditation and a meal. The first event is this Sunday, and we hope to see you there! 

- Lauren & the Bread & Butter Team

The soil is the great connector of lives, the source and destination of all. It is the healer and restorer and resurrector, by which disease passes into health, age into youth, death into life. without proper care for it we can have no community, because without proper care for it we can have no life.

- Wendell Berry

The Spotted Gray Mass by Brandon Bless

Disguised as a boulder among trees, you would guess that the spotted gray mass was unearthed centuries ago from its slumber in the Vergennes clay soil. As you look at this spotted gray mass, you think it was undoubtedly carved and deposited by glacial fingers. Nestled in a bed made of countless layers of velvety clay, spread upon it by the tides and recessions of Champlain waters, blanketed in organic matter from countless fallen leaves and storm-damaged trees.
 
You can imagine the spotted gray mass was woken from its millennia slumber by a farmer, cursing aloud as he hears iron slide and scrape as the plowshare he just barely repaired slams yet another spotted gray mass's hard surface. The farmer's cursing flows immediately into a futile "git up!", as his team of horses balk at the sudden jolt to their collars, like a car engine stalling at an inopportune moment.  The reverse in forward momentum halts his eager tilling and carving through the once-forested and undulating land, which he is eager to make tame and smooth and tillable. Here, he grows crops to sell to market to feed to families so that he can stay and live on this land and, so that one day, his sons will plow the fields with the speed and ease he knows is possible. If only the rocks and boulders were out of the way.
 
Rockbars in strong hands and weary backs straining, the quarter-ton spotted gray mass must have been pried from its clay-lined bed and rolled into a stone boat for horse-drawn delivery to the nearest rock wall.  The walls were the original "lemons into lemonade", their stones positioned to divide animal paddocks and crop fields.

[Continued from Newsletter]

Surely with these plow damaging, horse injuring boulders swept clean, the fields surrounding the spotted gray mass must have felt the slice of tillage with increasing frequency and speed - year after year after year. The soil, inverted from plows and smoothed by the harrow, transforming to a fine-textured monolith. Vermont spring deluges carrying the seemingly infite soil particles through the waterways, to the riparian areas of Shelburn Pond and beyond - year after year after year.

 Looking at it now, you see the land surrounding this spotted gray mass with trees extracted, rocks and boulders excavated, and topsoil exported. Decades of errosion leaving a foot of soil missing, gradually removed, particle by particle. The slow-motion landslide sloughing nearly one million cubic feet of soil from this mere 20 acres in front of you. Gone with the trees, rocks, and soil went the diversity and abundance of bacteria and birds, fungi and ferns, arthropods and amphibians, subterranean vertebrates and superterranean vertebrates, worms and Wabanaki - not to mention nitrogen and phosphorous, magnesium and calcium, copper and boron, plant productivity and farm profitability.

But looking more closely, you also see the land surrounding this spotted gray mass experiencing a return of young oak, ash, sumac, dogwood. Old friends  re-established within the protective nooks of rock and boulder walls, seedling chestnuts planted orchard-style in the pasture, and restorative grasses and forbs greening a re-undulating landscape.

Disguised as a boulder among trees, you would guess the spotted gray mass was unearthed from its slumber in the Vergennes clay soil centuries ago. But as you look at it now, you see this spotted gray mass stretch and yawn and emerge, not from a geologic slumber but from a siesta nap in the coolness of the oak shade.  

The spotted gray mass stands, and she shakes like a dog to dust off the now dried clay she bathed in during her afternoon wallow.  Her waking sounds alert the dozen or so rocks dozing near her.  They too now spring to life - miniature forms of the spotted gray mass. Hungry sounds from the piglets and soft, encouraging grunts from their mama sow announce that it's time for the sixth or seventh nursing of the day. Mama finds a cozy spot with enough space for all of her babies and begins to gently, slowly lay on her side.  The moment her side touches the ground, each of the piglets is already vigorously nursing.  Mama continues to talk to her babies with encouraging motherly resonants while the piglets greedily compete, shoving and squealing and crying for as much milk as each of them can drink.

Once the piglets are nursed and the shoving and squealing and crying subsides, it's time for mama to find her own nourishment.  You watch her quietly saunter off under the oaks, followed single-file by all her piglets.  The brief, post-nursing quiet is burst apart. Acorns cracking and crunching in strong pig jaws resound throughout the oak-strewn woodland hedgerow.

While the sounder of pigs continues their harvest in the woodland hedgerow, you step back a little to observe, more broadly, the landscape around you. You notice what is clearly the work of the pigs on their micro-migratory path which sweeps across some 20 acres of woodlands and pastures before you.  You track their discreet signs of browsing, grazing, rooting, and wallowing, in an arc that weaves through each woodland hedgerow and moves across the pastures.

In the wake of the pigs' path, you see multitudes of grasshoppers and insects, warming themselves in the direct sunshine, now exposed from the freshly trampled pasture. A flock of heritage turkeys swoops in to these gatherings of sun-loving insects, hunting them with child-like exuberance.  Once the fun is over, the turkeys return to the patches of pasture freshly rooted by the pigs, and begin dust bathing and scratching for worms and seeds. All the while, they gift packets of nitrogen-rich manure back to the land.  Looking farther back along the pig-turkey migratory path, you can see that their combined impact and fertilization, now two weeks past, has yielded grass that regrows faster and greener than the Joneses' lawn.

With a stomach rumble and thoughts of a Blank Page Cafe double chocolate almond cookie, you turn away from this idyllic scene and head back up the ridge towards the Farm Store. On your way, you pass a farmer wearing a bright shirt and a bright smile and carrying a couple 5-gallon buckets. You pause with curiosity. The farmer takes your queue and also pauses, both of you setting aside your missions to feed bellies for a quick chat.

The farmer asks you how the pigs and turkeys are doing. You say they are happily hunting acorns and insects. The farmer smiles and then falters, looking down at the buckets with a sigh. You see that she is a little wistful about something and ask what's in the buckets.

Putting the buckets down to rest her arms and shoulders, the farmer reaches into one of them and scoops a handful of grain to show you the tiny root radicals, emerging from the glittering and blackened wheat, oats, and peas. Her smile returns as she cups the sprouted seeds which are coated in biochar and minerals. Seeing your questioning face, the farmer explains that while it would be much easier to buy pre-bagged organic, processed feed, the farm chooses to source locally-grown, whole grains to sprout for the pigs and turkeys. She shares how sprouting makes the grain a living food for the animals, adding digestibility, enzymes, nutrition, and flavor that the animals thrive on. The added multi-mineral and biochar blend contribute optimum animal nutrition, gut health, and, of course, nutrient-dense manure.

While it seems to you like maybe a little too much effort for animal feed, the information she shares also seems pretty well in-line with the thoughtfully managed scene you just witnessed with the pigs and turkeys.

Before she can go on, you offer that the added minerals are likely a much needed supplement, given the mineral-depleted soils of all agricultural fields -- from the pastures you're standing on to the crop fields that grew the grain waiting in the bucket. Somewhat surprised at your knowledge, she beams at you despite the fact that mineral-depleted soil is a sad reality of modern farming. She adds that the minerals will not only feed the animals' bodies, but that excess minerals will pass through their manure to slowly remineralize the soil - year after year after year.

You are quiet for a moment and you feel a shifting in your mind as the definitions of the words "farm" and "farmer" become less firm.

Regathering yourself, you take a pinch of the grain and rub it in between your fingers. It coats your fingertips in a shimmering black dust that you hold up to her eye level in question. She nods excitedly while elaborating. This biochar is a fine-textured wood charcoal,  a biologically-beneficial addition to help balance the animals’ gut bilogy, before delivery to the soil. There, it becomes a magnet for nutrients and soil microbes, while also helping to regulate moisture and relieve compaction. It allows plants to be more productive and the farm to be more profitable - year after year after year.

You nod knowingly, but really, you're not sure she knows what she's talking about and you make a mental note to do a little of your own research. The farmer senses your skepticism, but knows that with patience, the land will speak for her. The farmer reaches into her second bucket and pulls out an apple. She polishes it on her shirt and bites with a satisfying snap. Her happy munching reminds you of the pigs.

The presence of food and the call of the double chocolate almond cookie is starting to make your mind wander back towards the cafe. You tame your cookie-mind for one more question that's been tugging at you since you first told the farmer that the pigs and turkeys were happily hunting. You recall that her smile had faded quickly to a sigh, and ask her why.

By the time you finish your question, she has already finished the apple. That is, except for the seeds which, in a single motion, she drops into a patch of pig-exposed ground and uses her sandaled foot to cover with loose soil, swiftly sowing. Without further acknowledgement of the little act, the farmer tells you that while she is proud give the pigs sprouted grains and locally harvested apples, and loves the work of feeding them, she knows that her true work is in planting species and growing the habitats that will sustain the pigs through their own hunting and harvesting.

She knows that pigs are truly woodland creatures who thrive on fruits, nuts, mushrooms, bugs, worms, tubers, roots, leaves, bark, forbs, and small game. She knows that pigs only now eat grain, in any measurable quantity, because farmers grow it and feed it to them - and farmers only do that because they extracted the trees, excavated the rocks, and exported the soil that otherwise would have fed the pigs for them - for years and years and years.

Her work, and that of the pigs, is to rebuild and remineralize the soil, knit back in the rocks, and replant the trees. In a quick and excited stream of thought, the farmer sketches a picture of regeneration that includes everything you've seen so far, including the boulders and hedgerows and acorns and pigs and insects and turkeys and grain and biochar and minerals and apples and the farmer standing before you. She continues to share how their work to regenerate the landscape continues in the winter, when the pigs live on a bedding system that the farmer builds up with fresh woodchips every few days.  Thus, each winter, the farmer and the animals compost carbon, manure, biochar, and minerals. And, by spring, the winter compost has transformed into 30,000 cubic feet of soil that the farmer uses to build new vegetable and orchard gardens which will re-blanket the 20 acre field you’re standing in.

Gleaming with pride and purpose, the farmer proclaims that it will take her less than 30 years of this work to rebuild the million cubic feet of soil lost over the past few centuries - and that's only the beginning!

In a quick rush, your imagination return to your minds' eye of the farmer plowing and rock picking the treeless fields. But this time, the images appear in reverse order. You imagine this young woman farmer going about her day to day and year to year work, and you see that what she is truly doing is quilting.

She is quilting a mosaic of gardens-grasslands-woodlands-forestlands-wetlands with a diversity and abundance of bacteria and birds, fungi and ferns, arthropods and amphibians, subterranean vertebrates and superterranean vertebrates, worms and People - not to mention nitrogen and phosphorous, magnesium and calcium, copper and boron, plant productivity and farm profitability.

You see this in an instant of exultation; yet you also see that she needs more than the help of pigs and turkeys - she needs your help.

You ask her: how can I help with your work?

Pleased by your question, the farmer responds: to save this place, we have to eat from this place - year after year after year.  So start by trying our pork and go from there.

Her response resonates with you in both its truth and its simplicity. With her way of thinking and seeing the world, we all shape and regenerate our own habitats and food systems. Like the pigs creating niches that allow the turkeys to hunt, and the turkeys offering nutrition for the plants to thrive, and the plants feeding animals for the people to live - people building soil and growing plants and creating niches and harvesting animals can make space for diverse and abundant habitats to re-exist.

February 1

Freeze, thaw, freeze. The oscillations outside reflect the sense of semi-hibernation I feel at the farm right now. Days filled with introspective farm team homework assignments and long, visionary planning meetings are interrupted by interludes of weather warm enough for Alex and Bekah to hurriedly harvest the briefly thawed out greens, just in time for our CSA members’ arrival. The greens are so precious right now that I have to be sneaky about snagging just a leaf from their harvest bin. The candy sweetness of winter spinach is worth the risk.

Last week, camp registration opened and closed in the span of about ten days. Though, thinking of the infusion of life that the campers bring to the farm at the height of summer feels like a far off but fast approaching memory, it has been an energizing interruption to the frozen winter pace. In our first day of registration, over two thirds of the spots were promptly spoken for: what an incredible showing of love! And, luckily, we don’t even have to wait for summer to enjoy the brightness that kiddos bring to the land. Next week, our tribe of Village Schoolers will be back for their weekly immersion in farm and forest life. Alex and Bekah have been out on the knoll, putting the final touches on their magical woodland base-camp in anticipation of the first day of winter session.

Stepping back to planning mode: the plant team has been crop planning, puzzling through the vegetable rotation, dreaming up new varieties for experimentation, and studying up on herb and perennial cultivation. Our monthly stakeholder meeting featured a deep dive into what our roles are within this farm community, and how they can develop and grow.

And as for the food: Micro-greens are on sale in the farm store this week. They are a tender reminder of spring and the perfect complement to a hearty winter meal. We are also excited to feature grass-fed lamb from our friends over at Scuttleship Farm. And last, but not least, keep an eye out for our own woodland pork shares, which will be on sale soon. Brandon, our land and animal manager, shared a beautiful peek into the lives of the pigs on this land and their place within our farm ecosystem in his story: The Spotted Gray Mass, linked below. Enjoy! 

Cheerfully, 
Lauren & The Bread & Butter Farm Team

Fundraiser for Bread & Butter

The below Go Fund Me campaign was created by a dear friend of the farm, Sher Tsai, on our behalf. As she explains, this has been a very challenging season for the farm. However, the amount of community support we have felt throughout has been truly incredible, and we are so grateful for it! Read her words below to find out more about the season and the campaign, but know that all kind of support are felt and appreciated! 

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The life of a farmer is never easy.  To say that 2017 has been a tough year for our friends at Bread & Butter Farm is a bit of an understatement. The hardships that the farm has faced are too lengthy to give explanation to each factor here, although we are happy to share details with anyone interested.  

Briefly, however, the significant losses are as follows:

 ·      Early 2017 brought an unexpected broken tractor, resulting in approximately $10,000 in repairs and replacements.  
·      The neighboring farm’s cows broke into Bread & Butter’s pasture, making the land unusable and resulting in additional food requirement purchases.  
·      A beef recall resulted in a $12,500 direct loss, and an unmeasurable future loss due to inaccurate/poor press coverage.
·      A few weeks ago, coyotes got a hold of the farm’s turkeys, resulting in a $2,000 loss.
·      Finally, the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak, was the $6,500 in greenhouse damage due to the fall windstorm.

 This close to $40,000 loss does not include the less quantifiable damages of a wet spring and early summer, mother nature’s gift to farmers.

Bread & Butter Farm offers a gift to Vermont that is beyond words.  We are so fortunate to live in a place where we know the farmers who grow our food. We are fortunate to have individuals who have dedicated their lives to nurturing the land that we rely on. Bread & Butter Farm is dedicated to ensuring that the best small farming practices are followed.  

If you have attended Burger Night, a class at Music For Sprouts, watched the children play at the Village School, or grabbed a coffee at Blank Page Café, you know what Bread & Butter is doing:  building community.  Bread & Butter Farm brings our community together, and now it’s time to rally around them!!  It's time for the community to show our support to the Farm that has brought us together.  

They did not ask for this help, nor would they.  They are humble, hardworking people.  However, they need us now more than ever.  Please consider any donation.  All proceeds will go directly into the farm, from fixing the greenhouses to cultivating the land.  Your donation will help to ensure that our small farms are protected here in the state of Vermont.