Hi all. Last weekend we had some guests staying with us that were waiting for the closing on their new Vermont home. They decided, based on the impending wet snow, that it would make sense to stay with us for another night rather than travel in the storm. Here is the description of that evening from our guests. We'll call them Bart and Lorna:
Two surprisingly unforgettable nights
The Green River Bridge Inn was, for us, the most welcome port in a storm. The storm wasn’t the Nor’easter that was dropping six inches of snow outside (creating the perfect Vermont setting for an evening of wine and charcuterie). The real storm was the botched closing on our new Vermont home that left us unexpectedly out in the cold.
The Inn boasts a near endless list of amenities including quintessentially and wonderfully appointed rooms, cozy places to sit on the main floor, a lovely new bar in the parlor, and absolutely unparalleled views of the Green River, the bridge, and the falls from every room. But my very favorite part of our stay had to do with the things the Inn didn’t have, namely a fuel valve solenoid, or electricity.
Because we arrived later in the evening of our first night, most excellent innkeepers Lee and Bob waited until the following morning to introduce themselves. Lee offered us some freshly made scones—which were delightful. And Bob launched into an equally delightful soliloquy about the Inn’s generator he was working to fix just in case the power went out. They both assured us that if the power did go out, we should join them around the wood stove on the main floor.
Sure enough, by mid-afternoon the power did go out during my last Zoom meeting of the day. As the sun went down, we were eventually drawn to the parlor room by the heat of the wood stove and the warmth of the conversation and laughter. Lee explained that Bob was still working on the generator, but that we should sit down and enjoy a glass of wine. About the time the charcuterie appeared, so did Bob. He explained that the generator refused to run because the fuel valve solenoid was bad. He’d located a new part some two hours away, but all of us were doubtful that a trek to retrieve this part on a Friday night in the middle of a Nor’easter was not the best use of anyone’s time. And there was charcuterie.
What ensued was one of the most enjoyable evenings we’ve had in a long, long time. We sat for hours around the woodstove swapping stories and laughing. I was reminded of my childhood in New England where power outages were fairly common and almost always conjured some kind of magic that would lead to games, conversations, and memories far better than any other “normal” night. How else would we have learned that Lee is an inveterate marathoner and has run marathons in more countries than I can remember? How else would I know that Lee has relatives in just about every place I have ever lived—or would ever want to live? How else would we have learned that Bob, a hockey fanatic, is having a fantastic “third period” playing goalie three nights a week for his local club team. (Bob insists, by the way, that his remarkable success stems from the fact that his old-school lack of the “butterfly style” mystifies all the younger shooters—while his throwback “Jason” mask just scares the crap out of all comers.)
All that to say, you should book a stay at the Green River Bridge Inn right now—if you can find a vacancy. I can’t promise you the power will be out. Bob may have indeed located a fuel valve solenoid by now, but I kind of hope not. And I can’t promise you that we will still be there, but I sure hope so. At this point if the closing on our new house falls through entirely, we may just become permanent residents of this extraordinary inn.
Sincerely,
Bart and Lorna