Every Thanksgiving, I find myself thinking a little more intentionally about the parts of living in Vermont that I never want to take for granted.
Not the big things that tend to appear on postcards or convince someone to plan their first Vermont vacation, although I’m certainly grateful for the mountains, covered bridges and fall foliage too. It’s the smaller rhythms of living here that stay with me: neighbors who wave from a distance, trails that are never very far away, roadside farmstands that operate on trust, the smell of woodsmoke on a cold morning and a sky dark enough that you can actually see the stars.
I’ve spent years traveling around Vermont looking for interesting places to eat, stay and explore, and the more I see of the state, the more I appreciate that some of my favorite things about living here aren’t destinations at all.
They’re simply part of Vermont life.
There Is Space to Breathe
One of the things I appreciate most about Vermont is space, both literally and figuratively.
There are places where you can walk into the woods and hear almost nothing. There are back roads where the windows come down almost automatically because the air smells like pine. There are mountains, fields and stretches of open land that make you realize how rarely you give yourself the opportunity to look at something farther away than a screen.
Even the way people interact can reflect that sense of space.
A neighbor might wave from across the road rather than immediately walk over for a conversation. It’s not necessarily coldness. Sometimes it’s the opposite: an understanding that friendliness doesn’t always require intrusion.
I love that.
There’s room here to know your neighbors and still have a little breathing room of your own.
The Outdoors Is Part of Everyday Life
You don’t need to plan a major expedition to spend time outside in Vermont.
Sometimes it’s a hike to a summit, but just as often it’s a walk on a local trail after work, a swim in the river, a snowshoe through the woods or a few miles on a dirt road simply because the weather is too good to stay inside.
Our trails have a way of reminding me how good it feels to move my body without measuring anything.
You don’t need a pace, a goal or an impressive destination.
Walk until you’re tired. Take the trail you haven’t tried before. Get a little muddy. Stop because the view suddenly opens up. Maybe get slightly lost before figuring out where you’re going again.
Vermont makes it surprisingly easy to remember that being outside doesn’t always need to be an activity you schedule.
It can simply be part of the day.
We Take Local Pride Seriously
There is an honest-to-goodness local pride in Vermont that I don’t think you fully understand until you’ve spent time here.
We know who makes the bread.
We know which farm grew the vegetables.
We know where the maple syrup came from, who roasted the coffee and which tiny brewery made the beer we’re drinking.
And yes, we probably have an opinion about all of them.
That connection between the person making something and the person buying it is one of the things I value most about Vermont. Supporting local isn’t simply a slogan printed on a tote bag here. For many communities, it’s part of how the local economy actually functions.
When you buy vegetables from a farmstand or pick up something made by a Vermont artist, there’s a good chance the person who created it isn’t some abstract figure at the other end of a supply chain.
They might be standing in front of you.
The Roadside Stops Are Part of the Experience
Some of my favorite Vermont discoveries have started with me driving past something and thinking, “Wait, what was that?”
Then I turn around.
I’ve found honor-system farmstands, roadside flowers, tiny bakeries, unusual museums, miniature structures, maple stands and all kinds of other places that probably weren’t part of anyone’s carefully planned itinerary.
That’s one of the reasons I love traveling around Vermont without overscheduling the day.
Leave room to stop.
A little shed at the side of the road might contain fresh eggs, flowers or baked goods. An old barn might house an entire business you didn’t know existed. A handwritten sign might send you down a road you otherwise never would have explored.
These places aren’t just charming things to photograph. They’re little reminders of how much of Vermont still operates on community, trust and direct connections between people.
The Farmers, Makers and Small Businesses Give Vermont Its Personality
Take away Vermont’s independent businesses and the state would feel completely different.
I’m grateful for the farmers who keep working through mud season, black flies, unpredictable weather and very long days. I’m grateful for the bakers who wake up at hours I never want to see so there are fresh pastries waiting in the morning. I’m grateful for restaurant owners, artists, cheesemakers, brewers, shopkeepers and everyone else who decides to build something here.
Running a small business in a rural state isn’t always easy.
That’s part of why I try to make a point of seeking these places out and sharing them.
When I tell you about a tiny general store, an honor-system flower stand or a restaurant tucked into a Vermont village, I’m not simply giving you somewhere to add to your weekend itinerary.
I’m showing you part of the network of people and places that makes Vermont feel like Vermont.
I Never Want to Stop Noticing the Views
There are certain views in Vermont that you expect to be impressive.
Stand on top of a mountain during foliage season and yes, you’re probably going to have a moment.
But some of the views I appreciate most aren’t the ones I traveled somewhere specifically to see.
They’re the unexpected ones.
A mountain appearing at the end of a road you’ve driven dozens of times. Fog sitting low in a valley early in the morning. A field glowing at sunset. Snow clinging to every branch after a storm. The Green Mountains suddenly turning pink for a few minutes before the sun disappears.
I’ve pulled over more times than I can count because something I’ve seen a hundred times suddenly looks completely different.
I hope I never get so used to living here that I stop doing that.
Vermont Changes Completely With the Seasons
Living in Vermont means constantly adjusting to a new version of the same place.
Summer gives us swimming holes, long evenings, farmers markets and roadsides overflowing with flowers. Fall turns an ordinary drive into something people travel across the country to experience. Winter quiets everything down under snow, filling cold mornings with woodsmoke and giving us an excuse to ski, snowshoe, skate or simply stay home beside the fire.
Then there’s spring.
Or mud season.
We love that too, although perhaps with slightly less enthusiasm.
The dramatic change between seasons keeps Vermont from ever feeling static. Just when you’re settling into one version of the state, the landscape starts transforming into another.
And through all of them, somehow, there’s still a creemee to be found.
The Night Sky Still Gets Dark
This is one of those things that’s easy to overlook until you spend time somewhere it isn’t true.
There are places in Vermont where nighttime is actually dark.
Step outside on a clear night away from the brighter towns and look up. The number of stars you can see can still catch you off guard.
It’s a simple thing, but it’s one I don’t want to stop appreciating.
The same goes for hearing owls at night, watching fireflies in summer or waking up to a morning so quiet that the loudest sound is a bird outside the window.
These aren’t attractions.
They’re part of living here.
Vermont Reminds Me to Slow Down
Vermont certainly isn’t immune to busy schedules, long workdays or people rushing from one obligation to another.
But the state has a way of interrupting that pace.
A snowstorm changes your plans.
A dirt road makes you drive slower.
A mountain view makes you pull over.
A conversation at a general store lasts longer than you expected.
A summer evening stays light long enough that you decide not to go inside yet.
Living here doesn’t automatically make life slower, but Vermont offers plenty of invitations to slow down if you’re willing to accept them.
I’m trying to get better at saying yes.
Why I’m Grateful to Call Vermont Home
The longer I live here and the more of Vermont I explore, the more convinced I am that the best parts of the state aren’t always the ones that make the travel guides.
They’re the ordinary things.
The wave from a neighbor. The farmstand at the end of the road. The smell of pine and woodsmoke. The trail you can reach in a few minutes. The stars. The first creemee of spring and the one you somehow manage to find in winter.
And, of course, the views.
The ones around corners and over hills that still make me stop what I’m doing for a second.
Travel Like a Local has given me an excuse to seek out the nooks and crannies of Vermont and share them with other people, but it’s also made me pay closer attention to the place I get to call home.
For that, I’m incredibly grateful. Not just at Thanksgiving. All year long.