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Welcome to Quarry Hill's Blog!

Quarry Hill Creative Center in Rochester, VT, founded 1946 by Barbara and Irving Fiske, is Vermont's oldest alternative community and at one time was probably also its largest. In the 60s -80s, as many as 90 people lived here.
It was and is visited each year, often in summer (but in every season, really) by visitors from all over the world.
We welcome interesting and creative people who are peaceful, bring no weapons, don't believe in hitting children or killing animals, and enjoy the beauty of Vermont and of themselves.

Most of us do not adhere to any particular dogma or religion, though many do find Eastern philosophy closest to our own thought (some of us are also members of the Quakers/Society of Friends).
We value the individual, particularly people who are energetic and have a sense of humor.
Visitors are welcome-- and prospective residents, too. There are some places for rent, others for sale. If interested, get in touch!
And, please follow the Blog and comment whenever you like!

"The symbol is the enemy of the reality, and the reality is ever one's true guide, true friend, true companion, and true self." Irving Fiske, 1908-1990

Sunday, November 21, 2010

A quote from Thomas Mann

A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.
  - Thomas Mann

 No kidding. Well, it can be true, in any case: but when a writer is writing, it feels as though s/he is doing what was meant to be done, what one was born to do.

Today I am working on a review of a book about a widowed police officer. I will be posting this first on Blogcritics. com and then here... A Widow's Awakening by Maryanne Pope.  But I  will be returning to work on the book about Quarry Hill very soon, focusing on that. Others have told their story about Quarry Hill, but I am the only person left who can tell the story of what it was like to grow up here, to evade the law (truant officers: my brother and I didn't go to school); to drive 1500 miles 2x a year from VT to Florida and back again... the passing trucks zooming by and  shaking the tiny trailer we slept in at night, the scent of wild onions or honeysuckle in each roadside turnout, the cherry blossoms and pinball machines in the CCC-built trailer park next to the Potomac, built so that anyone could afford to see the sights of Washington, the bleak rooftops and candy shops of Bayonne, New Jersey's trailer park... and the arrival home to wild winds, snow, and spring flowers opening up one summer after another. A childhood of freedom yet of hiding in plain sight.


  1. Ladybelle, blown away by your brief description of your childhood. amazing writing, yet so transparent. wonderful voice. now I'm excited. how about a preview.

  2. Hi Rick... Thanks so much. I really appreciate your comment. I want to write more and plan to spend this winter working on it. Often it's best when sudden and "off the cuff" like this. Maybe one of these days I will print some of it on my FB page. Or read some of it at the Gallery in town! That would be a surprise to a lot of people I imagine...
    No, really, but thank you so much for even noticing.
    xxx LB