How I finally got to become a writer in residence again

During my New York years, I was invited to be a writer in residence in Vermont at the summer home of a doctor and his wife. I was living in New York and had become good friends with their daughter, who had recently returned to New York after spending two years as a Peace Corps volunteer in Turkey.

I was hardly a well-known writer, but somehow Jeanette’s parents had taken a liking to my poetry and eccentric affection for cows, so the invitation was proffered and accepted and soon I found myself waking up in a second-floor New England-style bedroom that overlooked a maple tree farm.

During my stay, I learned how to extract the sap from the trees and watched it get turned into maple syrup.

On the warm summer days, I took long walks and made friends with some of the cows at neighboring farm