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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

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The All Night Dance Party

... was a pleasant, easygoing night this year. The hills were decorated with colored lights and handmade flags... a magical hour in the middle of the night, or the beginning of its end... as the bonfire's flames leaped up into the night, and colored faces painted by Bethany slipped in and out of the shadows.

The August night was warm. We couldn't see the Perseid meteor showers because of the darkness of night (cloud cover), but it was a beautiful evening.  Usually, it seems to me, more people are present for the party, which may have had something to do with it being Aug 11-12 instead of the first weekend in August, the traditional weekend and Joya's birthday. But people seemed to be having fun. I don't believe there were any conflicts or arguments. The music played on till dawn, when the tired partygoers, with their costumes long ago peeled away and simpler clothing now on to cool down after all the hot dancing, crept to our house and lined sleepily up for blueberry pancakes and warm maple syrup (Harold Hubbard's-- the best to be found in our mountain hollows).

I had spent part of the night (for the first time) at my  friend Margaret Farrington (HH's sister)'s house, where it was unbelievably peaceful and quiet. I fell asleep about 10 and woke at about 2:30, so I decided to go back to the party to see how things were going. All seemed well, and soon the sun rose and lit the phlox and begonias, the daylilies, and other late-summer flowers. Tired dancers sat on the steps in the sunlight and looked over at the mountain -- still green, not a leaf turned red yet.
It is a beautiful summer. It was my sixty-second birthday, August 12, 2012.

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