That Can-Do Spirit

An L.A. friend mentioned it in a post-storm email.  She spoke of "can-do Vermonters."  A good term.  People around here have been busy!  Hurricane--no, Tropical Storm--Irene crashed and thrashed about, but for us, at least, our down-town is almost cleaned up, our streets are re-opening, and our farmers market (which seemed a total loss) is up and running.

It's true that we in the northern latitudes have honed our can-do skills contending with all the long, bitter winters that invade these parts.  But after any emergency, you hear about the locals anywhere speaking with pride in their resilience.  No matter the community, the state, the region, people like to help, work together, get things back to the way they were ... or even make them better than they were.

We're fortunate to have a viable on-line community site which has proven to be highly effective--such postings as, "Who needs help this weekend?" with info about a bucket brigade ("wear mud boots").  Or a notice from a senior who can't shovel out her mud.  Or an offer for free gravel from someone who thought he might now have a hundred wheelbarrows-full in his yard.  Or a link to a new map (to be updated daily) of flood-caused road closures/openings.  Or a reminder to follow safe clean-up procedures with warnings about molds and environmental contaminants.  And, my favorite, a 2-minute video showing a horseback rider braving vigorous flowing waters to deliver medication.  (All this, of course, interspersed with notices about choral rehearsals, a tobacco cessation workshop, etc.)

So, I should not have been so utterly surprised at what I found when I visited our local farmers market on market day.  It hadn't skipped a beat.  The week before, it had been there in all its vitality even hours before the storm hit.  Then there it was again after only a week--though the flood waters had swept through, the structures had toppled, the picnic tables had washed away, great gashes had appeared in the parking lot.

But, as one vendor told me when I looked around and literally shook my head at how the new market so closely resembled the old (except the grass was gone), "It shows what a good bull-dozer can do ... and the help of a lot of people."  In fact, some hundred people (including children) had come out with their shovels and rakes to help level the land, set up new picnic tables, and construct another sandbox for the little ones.  They'd made new parking signs, seeded grass which they covered with straw, set out new trash and compost centers.  Others had brought them coffee and fresh muffins.

Sunlight on the new sandbox

"Thank you" sign on a tree

Then, market day, with the exception of a vendor or two still off in isolated towns, everyone was back in their old spots, making dim sum, selling pots of chrysanthemums, setting out maple syrup and pints of berries, chatting while making coffee, putting out pottery, and posting such signs as"These vegetables were not flooded."  One vendor lost half his crop when (contaminated) flood waters filled his fields, but he was there, too, with what he could salvage.  And flooding all this in a totally different way were people like me who came to support them--to buy their bread, cucumbers, flowers.  To offer them our blessings and wish them well.

Overheard bits of conversation:

"...my road washed out ..."

"We're up on a hill and didn't even know about the flood until later ..."

"I don't know if they had flood insurance but you know the deductibles are so high, maybe $30,000 ... or even $15,000 is a lot ..."

" ... if that tree had come down any closer ..."

"...everyone helped out..."

Gotta admit.  I was pretty proud to be associated with these can-do Vermonters (though I'm a Southern Californian like the friend who emailed me).  I didn't bring shovel and rake, but I do make a point of going each Saturday morning and buying their produce.  Thank you!

From Trouble-maker back to being Little Miss Babbling Brook