Essay (circa: 2022): My, Adopted, Green Mountain Home

Photo: Camel's Hump (taken, by Morgan W. Brown, from the Hubbard Park Tower in Montpelier; circa: May 31, 2009)

Although not a native born Vermonter, having only been a resident of the Green Mountain State for nearly thirty five (35) years now; and, more than likely, including due to my heavy Southern New England accent as well as accompanying sarcastic sense of humor and wit, shall always be considered a flatlander as well as resident tourist, at best, by many of those whose preceding generations are and have long been native to the state; when I first became a permanent resident of the state years ago, the fact is that I finally moved home or so it seemed, planting and eventually growing deep, solid, strong roots and have enjoyed living here ever since; something which cannot necessarily be said of those numerous places where I had previously traveled or lived, at least not to the same degree.

While neither the State or the communities where I relocated to might not have invited nor have particularly adopted (read: embraced) me either, I have warmly adopted both, as is, without requiring these to change in the slightest bit; save for having worked long and hard, mostly behind the scenes and along with other like-minded people, on behalf of necessary universal social justice, human rights and various state and municipal policy as well as attitude changes, particularly concerning those who are most in need, all the same.

Prior to moving to Montpelier, my current community of residence, in 1990, I wrote the following prose while a resident of Rutland City, penned after the death of my mother earlier that same year and who I was still deeply grieving and heavily mourning:

Still Wild Woods

Dedicated In Loving Memory

To My Mother:

Patricia Owren (formerly Brown) Hackett

1936 - 1990

venturing out

into winter's bitter cold

alone

to find even just a little solace

on a christmas eve's day

wandering a snowy path

where it leads

winding up a hill

through thick stands of trees

to a frozen snow-covered pond

greeted by a furious frigid wind

compelled though

to that solitary spot

if only but for a time

for the sight was such to see

that it could not be helped

at that moment

but to admire the serenity

and take in the warmth

felt from this

bit of paradise

not yet lost

nestled within

still wild woods

by Morgan W. Brown

Rutland Vermont

Late December 1990

What is considered a home, one might ask? 

Is it merely where one hangs one's hat? 

No. Not necessarily.

To my way of thinking, it is also where one hangs one's heart and mine is now and forever planted here, at least until my spirit takes flight from its Earthbound abode and rises to explore the heavens; however, without any doubt, Vermont will never be forgotten then either.

Among the myriad reasons why include its vast forests, woods, lakes, rivers, streams and other flowing waters, staggeringly beautiful mountains, hills and valleys, whatever the season might be, year round. Yet, also its thriving communities, villages, towns, cities and, most of all, its rather hearty and good spirited people, of which I shall always remain forever grateful and appreciative.

Speaking of which, within my mind, the Vermont State Song, These Green Mountains, certainly says it all. Everytime I hear it sung, without fail, the lyrics of the song tug upon my heart, bringing a wealth of tears to my eyes.

Indeed, it does one's mind, body and soul good to finally have a place that I can call my home, particularly when none other could suffice, surely not in the same fashion.

Morgan W. Brown

Montpelier, Vermont, USA

October 19, 2022