Fred sent me this link a while back and I guess I just forgot to post it. I came across it in my email this morning and thought you might enjoy it if you haven't already seen it. Erica Burke is our neighbor - well, sort of - she and her husband, Bob, built a big house up on Cabot Plain on what used to be the Howard Stone farm, not far from the cemetery. Erica works for the creamery and the creamery commissioned this article (LINK), so there's a good deal of Cabot Creamery in it along with some local history.

Of course, the author could not include a huge amount of history, and perhaps Erica, a relative newcomer, might not be aware of some of the history. For instance, the Burtt farm was once a showpiece homestead called "Maple Glen Farm" owned by Alonzo Foster (inventor of the Foster sap spout) and later the Walbridge family, all related by marriage. One of the Walbridge daughters married a Spaulding and her son, Richard Spaulding, built the Foster Bridge.

The author also didn't mention that in
addition to the western view of the Green Mountains from Cabot Plain, if one turns around, the eastern view is of the White Mountains. Not only that, on a really clear day you can see Canadian mountains past Jay Peak in the north. Cabot Plain is a "continental divide" with water from springs on southwest slopes running into the Winooski River, and water from the springs on the northeast slopes flowing into the Connecticut River. No wonder the first settlers in Cabot built on Cabot Plain - it must have seemed like the top of the world to them. In spite of hardships and constant wind, many remained to farm there even after the businesses and town government moved to lower ground, first to the geographic center of the town (on Danville Hill) and later to the Winooski River where the village remains today. They were a hardy lot, and the few remaining residents on the Plain today have to be, as well. It's worth the effort and discomfort of early snow, too much wind and snow, and delayed springtime. There's an ever-changing supply of fresh air, lots of unoccupied space, and you

become one with the elements - or you leave.
 
The photos here have been taken over the years, mostly since 2003 - but the view changes very little. After the photo of the White Mountains seen through the Cabot Plains Cemetery sign, there is the Burke's house on the old Stone farm in the winter of 2009, I think. The next may be one of their sons on the way home from school. Spring does come, and the picture of the very old maple tree on the Burtt farm (taken down within the past couple of years) was probably a sapling when the Fosters were making syrup at Maple Glen Farm in the 1800s.
 
 Then summer comes, in all it's glory - the coolest place you'll find for miles around is Cabot Plain. The next pictures were all taken near the covered bridge. The school house is the Walbridge School, relocated by Richard Spaulding. Mr. Spaulding saved it after it closed and moved it from just north of the turn of Cabot Plains Road off of Route 215 towards Walden. It's below the covered bridge and open only occasionally by appointment. It contains artifacts and Spaulding family memorabilia.
 
The last picture is a sunset at the cemetery - some summer evenings there will be a line of cars parked by the field as people line up to watch the sun set over Mt. Mansfield and Camel's Hump. 



The Plain is near and dear to me because that's where I grew up. It was all active farms then, with herds of cows, daily milk trucks, a one-room school that was the center of the community where I and the other neighborhood kids from grade one through eight spent each day from September until the end of May. Those were wonderful days filled with learning far beyond the text books we studied. We learned self reliance, how to get along with other children of all ages, respect for our teachers and other adults. We took care of each other, had our arguments, but learned how to compromise and therefore remained friends as adults. Nobody had excess anything. We all had our chores when we got home after school and before leaving in the morning. Everyone walked to and from school - some well over a mile, no matter what the weather. Life wasn't always easy, but nobody complained. It was just the way things were. After we graduated from the Plains, most went to Cabot High School. It was 4.6 miles from our house to the school. I rode my bike as long as the weather permitted, and then boarded in town until the roads dried in the spring. Others did the same - some worked on farms, in the telephone office, or like me, helped with household chores for part of my board. But the Plain was where I came home to recharge - not just with family, although that was important, but it was the "place" that had a special hold on me. I get a wave of nostalgia now when I travel over the Plain - but through the years, all our family and the original neighbors have moved  away or died, and everything there has changed. Now, my home is here, a little off the Plain but still close. I enjoy remembering how it used to be, but I like my life as it is now.