Here is Brooklynn in Vermont. Brooklynn believes that in another life she must have been a mountain-dwelling creature, like a bighorn sheep or a yeti, because even though she is a true New Yorker, she loves the mountains. She loves the long views and the way the clouds seem close enough to touch, the piney smell and the rush of wind in the treetops. When the air turns dry and cool, she feels summoned by the mountains. Even if the air doesn’t turn dry or cool, like it hasn’t in NYC this year, she still feels summoned.

A great many other New Yorkers also feel summoned. Who ever said New Yorkers don’t like Nature? It’s just not true. Count the orange license plates in the parking lot. On the way here Brooklynn saw a faded mint-green Chevy pickup bristling with rakes casually bumping along, followed closely by a string of SUVs exuding impatience but clearly trying really hard to be nice. Was the Chevy being so ostentatiously Vermont-y just to stick it to the New Yorkers? It certainly felt that way, but it’s all just part of the whole New Yorker/Nature experience.

What’s that sound in the background? Could it be a live band playing “Roll Out The Barrel”? And the aroma . . . smokey BBQ? And what is that down there at the mountain’s base village? Hundreds of people in plaid flannel shirts and L.L. Bean boots painting pumpkins and sampling competing chili recipes for the chili bake-off? Yes, yes and YES! It’s October in Vermont!

But the Harvest Fair, barrel of fun though it is, is not what draws Brooklynn here—it is Vermont’s special brand of peace and quiet. For that, one must travel up the mountain. Like Julie Andrews in the opening scene of The Sound of Music. Brooklynn loves that movie, even though she has never understood how becoming stepmother to seven children and helping carry them across the Alps while being chased by Nazis constitutes a happy ending. Hey, but they ended up in Vermont! So there WAS a happy ending, they just didn’t show it in the movie.

Here’s Brooklynn at the summit. Up here is a different world, a different season. The wind plucks her hat off and carries it away (not far, don’t worry), musses her ears and stirs her soul.

As far as Brooklynn is concerned, Vermont is pretty close to heaven. The only thing that would make Vermont better would be if it could be clicked on and dropped a little closer to NYC. And if people maybe drove just a bit faster.

Brooklynn is made from a silk moire fabric whose provenance is deeply mysterious to me. I wasn’t sure it would work out, with its watery wavy patterning, but Brooklynn pulls it off while also proving that just because she’s made out of something fancy doesn’t mean she has to be fancy. Her socks and hat are cut from the same old sock, and her hiking boots are made of felt with soles cut from a foam tray.

Her jeans and her backpack are both made from materials given to me by my very dear friend Jennie, who was parting with some of her daughter’s outgrown clothes. Even though one of the reasons I started making the Resting Stitch Faces was to use up my old stuff, I’ve found that I love getting other people’s old stuff. Other people’s old stuff is much more inspiring. Like a change of scene. Like going to Vermont. Like I would never have thought of making a chicken backpack if Jennie’s daughter’s dress didn’t have those great appliques. Thank you, Jennie and Anna.

Climb ev’ry mountain

Ford ev’ry stream

Follow ev’ry rainbow

‘Til you find your dream