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Sunday in Vermont

Sunday morning, after showering, sleeping in real beds instead of in our tents, and eating cereal with raspberries fresh from the Parkers' garden, we worshiped at First Congregational Church in Woodstock, VT. The pastor, Norm Koop, has been called a modern-day Jonathan Edwards- there are certainly some similarities as he closed the sermon by letting us know he was about to "scare the hell out of us, literally."

Though I had heard Jeremy speak of him often and even listened to a few of his sermons, and knew as well of Jeremy's regard for C. Everett Koop, it was only that weekend that I put two and two together and realized that they were father and son. So, that Sunday, I got to worship with the former Surgeon General. That topped my last brush with greatness, when I sat by G.I. Williamson, who wrote the commentaries I own on the Westminster Standards, in Philadelphia.

After church, we ate sandwiches sitting by the White River and then walked around downtown Woodstock briefly, stopping in an art gallery and for ice cream, of course. We also dropped by the Marsh-Billings-Rockefeller National Park, where I got to pet some cows, one of my favorite rare treats. We didn't go inside the park, just explored the Visitor Center and the requisite gift shop where we learned about the roots of environmental conservation and stewardship.

From there, we headed back to the Parkers for a tubing trip down the White River with Garrett and his friends. It was by far the best tubing run I've ever experienced- it far eclipsed my many runs down the Dan. Not a once did I have to stand up and walk for lack of depth. Tthere were even numerous patches of white water which caused one member of our party to tumble from their tube.

At the end of the run, while waiting for the shuffling of cars to get us all back home, the boys went bridge jumping. Apparently, this is an acceptable pastime in New England. Later looking at a Vermont map, the cover picture was of someone bridge jumping. The rest of us were sitting on some rocks, watching and waiting, when Kate discovered a non-tidal pool. In this non-tidal pool were what appeared to be tiny tadpoles and nearby was an empty water bottle. So Kate scooped up some tadpoles and dirt into the bottle and brought her pet tadpoles home (the car).

The water bottle traveled the rest of the trip with us, though the tadpoles sustained little growth. Instead, they sprouted what appeared to be a second head. Back in New Jersey, everyone thought it was rather strange that Kate was keeping pet tadpoles that weren't growing in a discarded plastic bottle. Someone suggested that they were not tadpoles, but instead mosquitoes. Unfortunately, the bottle got left in New Jersey, but Kate's mom promised to watch and see what happened.

Back in Atlanta, Kate had a plant growing in a bowl of water on our front porch. The same organisms moved into this bowl. Thinking they were mosquitoes, Kate cleaned out the bowl and brought it inside. However, Mrs. Miner reports that they were not, in fact, mosquitoes. The mystery remains.

Except that I just googled mosquito larva and they did in fact look like what lived in the bottle. But Kate has forbidden me from posting a picture because the pictures are all larger-than-life and ugly, while her pet mosquitoes were cute and named "Chris" and "Stewe."

Labels: travel

posted by CP @ 5:27 PM 1 thoughts