A Fall Drive, a “Brave” Act, and Maple Candy

When people hear where I’ve lived and traveled I usually get one of two reactions - admiration or confusion.  Admiration comes in the form of “Wow! You’re so brave!” Confusion is sometimes asked, but more often not.  It’s a vibe - “Why would you want to leave your family/friends/home?”  Confusion is easier to deal with since I had specific reasons for going everywhere.  Admiration, while in some ways nice, is more confusing to me since bravery is in the eye of the beholder.  Everyone has different definitions of what constitutes a “brave” act.  As someone who grew up traveling with family and without, moving thousands of miles from home, multiple times, wasn’t that brave to me.  I was for sure nervous at times.  I questioned if I was doing the right thing other times.  But we live in the days of technology.  The Internet and phones allowed me to stay connected with those I missed.  I was a plane ride or a few hours’ drive from home.  I met new people and had a purpose for being in the new place.  While I know brave things can be scary, to me, the scarier prospect than stepping into the unknown was not living my life.  I could have stayed in my hometown near my parents, taught at my old high school, and saved a lot of money on gas and airfare.  It would have been fine.  But I would have missed out on so many life experiences.  

Another aspect that amazes people is that I did all of my moving while single.  Rachel Lynde would not have approved; that’s for sure.  She says in Anne of Avonlea, “The way girls roam the earth now is something terrible. It reminds me of Satan in the Book of Job going to and fro and walking up and down. I don't think the Lord ever intended it...”  She would be surprised to learn that I felt God leading me to many of those places, and I know He grew me because of it.  If I was not single, I would not have had the freedom to only consider myself and where God may have me.  If I wasn’t single, my experiences would have been vastly different.  Maybe I would have had a travel companion like I wanted, or I would have settled sooner and wouldn’t have made decisions for myself alone.  I’m grateful for the nomadic life I’ve led.  I have to be since it’s better to be grateful than dwell on what isn’t.  If it’s brave, then it’s brave for you.  It’s familiar to me.  I can’t base my life on my relationship status or if I have someone to travel with me.  If I did, I’d never go anywhere, and how sad would that be?               

My single, nomadic life allowed me to live in the northeast in Connecticut for a year.  And, as places are so close together, I finally made my fall dreams come true and drove to Vermont… because I could.  I often made spur-of-the-moment drives.  I knew I wanted to go, but I didn’t plan when - another perk of being able to decide for myself. 

Some Vermont fall colors

On Saturday the 27th of October I researched a few small towns I may want to stop in, and then on Sunday I was off.  The drive took just under two hours from Hamden in southern Connecticut to Guilford, VT where I stopped at the welcome center.  My Hallmark movie experience told me fall was the time to go.  I’m not sure why I never made time to return in another season before I moved, but since I only made it once, I’m glad it was in the fall.  People take “leaf peeping” trips to the northeast for a reason.  The funny thing was that to see peak fall colors, I didn’t have to leave Connecticut.  My drive to and from work in the fall was beautiful with trees in brilliant oranges, reds, and golds.  I knew I had to go to Vermont, but the time I chose wasn’t any better than what was down the street in terms of fall spectacle.  In fact, the farther north into the state I went, the more I realized that their peak colors were over.  But I enjoyed the drive nonetheless.        

After the visitor’s center, I drove to Grafton, VT where I parked and walked around the town a bit.  The day was cloudy, but I still felt like everything was storybook-perfect.  There were streams running through town with calming ambient noise.  There were white-steepled churches with ringing bells on Sunday and covered bridges begging to be walked across. 

A quintessential covered bridge in Grafton, VT

It was all a welcome relief from busy New Haven streets and noise.  I also had Woodstock, VT on my list of places to visit (I specifically sought out cute small towns), and my GPS took me on dirt roads even though I didn’t tell it to avoid highways.  Woodstock was larger than Grafton so I spent more time walking around.  It had snowed the day before and there were still patches of snow on the grass.  In the village square, they had a town crier chalkboard for people to write announcements.  It reminded me of something the fictional Stars Hollow of Gilmore Girls fame would have had.  The village center buildings like the courthouse, the Roman Catholic church, the Norman Williams Public Library, and the Woodstock Inn and Resort all looked like they could be the backdrop of a Hallmark movie.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have more time to stay and fall in love with a random small-town lawyer, parishioner, librarian, or innkeeper.  I did, however, have time to stop for lunch.

The Woodstock Town Crier Board

The Woodstock Inn and Resort

I drove a little farther downtown, not looking for anything in particular.  Usually, when I went on exploratory drives, I got something easy to eat in the car while driving, or when it was nice out, I found a clam stand by the beach.  Today was different.  Before I left, my roommate gave me some advice.  She told me I shouldn’t skip eating at a restaurant because I’m alone.  (That’s something I’d have to be brave to do - eat by myself at a sit-down restaurant!)  She said that if I’m uncomfortable sitting alone, the thing to do is sit at the bar.  If nothing else, the bartender is usually up to chat.  So, I tried out my version of bravery.  I walked in from the cold to an old, polished restaurant, and instead of asking for a table (it was later in the afternoon, so not too busy with a post-church crowd), I said I’d sit at the bar.  The bar was a decent size, an “L” shape with the corner right at the restaurant entrance.  I walked in further to choose a seat in the middle, far away from the draft that came in with new customers.  The seats weren’t crowded.  I was maybe one of three or four people at the bar.  I ordered clam chowder (when in New England), but I didn’t get up the nerve to start chatting with the bartender.  Instead, not too much longer after I ordered, an older couple sat down one seat away from me.  As one does when she’s alone, I overheard their conversation.  Once I heard mention of Connecticut, I took my chance, “Oh, are you from Connecticut?” I asked.  “I drove up for the day from New Haven.”  It wasn’t the bartender, but chatting with that couple from Connecticut was an easier way to spend my time.  I scooted over to sit next to them while I ate my lunch and shared about my travels and work with FoodCorps in New Haven.  They shared about their travels and a little of their life.  What was unexpected, though, was when it was time to go, we exchanged phone numbers, and I received an invitation to come to their house for dinner.  What’s more surprising, was that I actually went.  :)  They reminded me of my parents a little, well-traveled and around the same age.  I can’t remember their names now or even where they lived, but in northeast miles, it was close.  Looking at the map as a reminder, it may have been Branford or Old Saybrook - 20 minutes away or 45, depending on which town it was.  Either way, I took them up on their offer of dinner at their house less than two weeks later.  I never got together with them again, but that one evening, when I joined them and a neighbor for dinner, was a pleasant night in interesting company, one I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t sat at the bar by myself.    

After lunch, I started following my phone’s directions to another town on my list.  I was driving north, and Google Maps took me down a dirt road again.  Once I saw more snow and reached a sign that read, “Town of Barnard:  Class 4 Road, Not Maintained by Town, Use at own Risk,” I knew it was time to turn around since my Volvo was not meant for mudding.  I intended to return to my Vermont list, but I haven’t made it back yet. 

My sign to turn around!

Maybe one day I’ll make a new list and sit at a different bar, seeing what kind of locals I meet then.  On the way home, my trip would not have been complete without a stop at The Vermont Country Store.  In reality, I was just passing by; it wasn’t planned, but I was glad I spotted it.  They had every kind of cute country chic item one would want.  Imagine a Cracker Barrel store but bigger and better and more New England.  I found a Christmas ornament since that’s an easy item to collect in my travels, and I felt the need to treat myself to some maple candy.  I didn’t go crazy like Ross, but since Vermont is known for maple syrup, I knew I had to try it.  The three pieces I bought were enough for me - no sugar rush for my drive home - but it was certainly delicious!  

I haven’t tried to recreate maple candy at home, but I have made two cake recipes that use maple syrup as an ingredient to top it off.  In The Harvest Baker, Ken has a Sweet Potato Pound Cake with Maple Syrup Glaze recipe and a Honey Parsnip Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting.  Since he shares the sweet potato cake recipe online, I’d encourage you to try it yourself!  As a previously mentioned sweet potato fan, I would recommend the cake alone, but the maple syrup glaze makes it doubly worth it.  Maple syrup and butter are warmed and then poured over powdered sugar to be mixed.  If I had small maple leaf molds, it would be just like maple candy since it hardens similarly to royal icing.  Just try to not pick it off the cake without trying a piece of each together!  The Honey Parsnip Cake is a nice, new departure from carrot cake.  The warm spices - allspice, cinnamon, and ginger - make it the perfect fall treat, no matter where you are.     

Sweet Potato Pound Cake with Maple Syrup Glaze

Honey Parsnip Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

By saying “yes” to something brave, you’re allowing yourself to live your life - visit or move to that place, take that job, meet that person, go on that adventure.  Everyone has something that stretches beyond one’s comfort zone - something that was put off, something that’s a “not yet” but maybe “someday.”  If you don’t say yes once in a while, you may be avoiding unknown dirt roads, but you may also be missing a sweet adventure.  If you have your own - sit at a bar alone - version of a "brave” story to share, please reach out!  I’d love to hear it. :)