It’s been a while since I visited my parents in Connecticut, so this year I made the trip to see them at the old homestead. The house and the town have some family history and I’m always reminded of it when I return home. I grew up in this house and my parents still live here:
The house is over 200 years old. My father’s great aunt lived in it before we bought it. The view from the back yard is beautiful.
My mother used to keep horses on the property. This is the horse barn they built to keep the two horses and the Shetland pony.
Across the town green is Westover School:
My great-grandfather was a construction foreman when this building was built and stayed on as the head of the physical plant of the school until he retired. The school’s development office was once the library and there’s a plaque in this building with his name on it.
Across the street from that house is the Middlebury Congregational Church and the Middlebury Town Hall:
The sunsets tend to be beautiful.
I sometimes say I grew up in a town that would have made even Norman Rockwell violently ill. It’s a snarky comment that doesn’t do justice to the way I feel when I return. Middlebury is a classic small New England town without the weekend tourism from New York City that many towns here sometimes attract. When I was younger it was an awfully small town. Now I find it to be a refreshing change from California. It’s a wonderful place.