River Sisters Homestead

I live in a valley where the Connecticut River has a major influence on the weather we get down at the house.

I’m half a mile from the main road, the other side of which lives the river. In the warmer months, you can hear the powerboats ripping down the multi-state waterway. Due to the proximity, there’s no surprise that there’s such a dense fog hanging around on a day like today.

My family used the Connecticut River for trade. They made their way down from the Hudson Valley, into Vermont – where they settled, both themselves, the town, and the state. The river they lived near up there is the same river they lived near down here.

When I was younger, I planned a canoe trip down the river. But I never took it. I’m not too old to do it now, but I find myself in a spot where – if I wait a few years – I can make the trip with the kids and our dog. Suffice to say, I’ll be older and wiser then.

We would start in Vermont and find our way back down here, eventually arriving back home by taking the Hubbard Brook off the river. Then walking up through the backyard. I’ve never checked the way things flow, but that would be ideal.

The Hubbard Brook is named after the Hubbard Family. Elizabeth Hubbard was an ancestor of mine. Her family owned the property I now live on with my girls. I had no idea about this until we had lived here for a couple of years. It’s wild to think about it all. We even have a family cemetery where we could all be buried at if I really wanted to pursue it.

When we first moved in, I named this place “The Lemonade Stand” because it’s a fine example of how someone can turn lemons into lemonade when their life takes a sharp turn. When I started planting the apple trees and blueberry bushes – with the idea of selling the fruit and honey one day – I changed the name of our little sanctuary to the “River Sisters Homestead”. A named culled both from our family history with the river and the future of this place through my daughters.

It’s all quite magical. There’s a lot to take in from the past and a lot to think about in terms of the future, but for now, I’ll just relish in these mornings when the river makes its own little weather patterns in an area known wholly as Maromas.