Once upon a time in a little hollow in the Taconic Mts of Vermont…

There was an old yellow house…..

Look Honey , our dream houseJune , 1999

And a lovely cottage for guests

Site of the future Dome

The first pile of seemingly 100s of tires

and a lovely garbage heap

THE CLEAN UP…..

Our mailbox

“Now I knowed ya’ll when….”

Emery worked hard repairing the washed-out driveway.

June 9, 1999: the Brook Yurt arrives (“psst, look under the tires; no, under the canvas under the tires”)

Emery, aided by our friends Professor, John C and Peacemaker, pulled metal from an over-the-bank “landfill”

Used car, just needs a little work

Professor, overseeing the project

And the yurt waits quietly beneath its new blue tarp.

“FIREMEN ARE JUST TWO STEPS AWAY FROM BEING ARSONISTS, MA’AM”

7:00PM, June 17, 1999, the first pumper rolls in

Three fire departments:  Shaftsbury, North Bennington and Bennington Rural

5 pumper trucks and Chief Dave McKegan

One happy fellow

whom Chief Dave tries to recruit

“Well, what are we waiting for?  Let’s get ‘er done!”

“Foam down that swamp pink, son.”

First  some smoke (NO, not that kind!)

Then some flame

On a windless, rainy night, the smoke rises straight upward

Maybe an odd “pathway to ecstacy”, but hey….

Guests at our “house warming”

Fireworks (and fire works)

Let’s not forget the guest house

THE MORNING AFTER

The rubble-formerly-known-as-Yellow-House has been reduced to ash and metal, but still smoulders.

Emery stokes up a small fire in the guest house

We fill a 30-yard container in an hour, thanks to many wonderful friends

Behind the house, tons of insidious electrical guide cable

Metal piles from the guest house

The “Burm” and its metal inhabitants

Electrical insulators everywhere

One container filled, but a second

for the cable and

and more metal

But it’s done and the land is physically cleared

The beauty of the place reminds us of the commitment to the land, despite the hard work.

A silver birch and morning glory

We honor the land and cleanse its spirit

and the Land responds to us

with a little place we call

SPIRIT HOLLOW