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So I went to the Wheelock Transfer Station some 40 years ago. The old Vermonter in charge grunted at me, “You must be from somewhere else.” “Yup,” said I. He fired back with a smile, “We don’t like anyone from somewhere else. Don’t tell anyone what a great place we live in.

Humor always helps. I asked him, “Have you lived here all your life?” And, as the old joke goes, “Well, no, not yet!” Through the years we became the best of friends.

I never took his original advice to keep people away. Such an attitude would be like holding back the flow of the Connecticut River. People will just come.

The out-of-state license plates in front of Marty’s First Stop in Danville are evidence enough that we are a destination. The parking lot was usually full and the lines long.

I drive through East Burke each week on my way to the Great North Woods, and through the delightful, busy village of Island Pond. Hundreds of cars and vans overwhelm you as cyclists from all over the country come to East Burke to ride the Kingdom Trails.

If you want some good human entertainment go there on any weekend. See the tailgate picnicking, the abundance of energy, the tuning of bikes, the interaction of folks and family, and the joy of jumping dogs.

A total stranger offered to share their lunch with us as we passed by. What a contrast to my first greeting at the Wheelock dump 40 years ago.

What is it that brings people here? For those of us who love this land, the list is long. But whatever answer folks give it must include references to both pace and space.

If we are in too great of a hurry, shame on us. We left someplace else, perhaps way back then, for a place like ours where the pace honors the place.

Then, too, one must celebrate the space.

We have lived in crowded suburbs. Folks described it as “The Ultimate.” I didn’t think so.

We found ourselves once upon a time in the desert of California in a lovely space, but so hot, near Palm Springs that it is 115 degrees in August. It was unbearable!

Then there was the lovely space at our five-acre campus and 1000-member church in Venice Florida. But the congregation was always here in Vermont for the summer. We found ourselves escaping the humidity of Southwest Florida on regular flights back to Vermont. We had a Florida parish family reunion years ago here on Caspian Lake. The crowd was so big it seemed like no one was left behind in Florida in the heat and humidity of August.

It's not that other places do not have lovely spaces, but people have discovered that Vermont is simply irresistible in its own ways.

Very important to note here is that Vermont changes constantly. One of the things that brought us to our Olde Pineberry Farm was the summer symphony of color all around our home.

The massive lilac bush was our town’s go-to place for graduation flowers. Old-timers tell me it's always been the “graduation ceremony bush.”

Then comes the magnificent orange day lilies followed by the old 100-foot-long bed which displays the white masterpiece of the hydrangeas.

The brilliant old rose bushes would last all summer if we could win the battle of the beatles.

Then, the smell and color of the Sweet William blossoms tells us that the front porch is the sweetest place on earth.

The rich purple of the summer’s end comes with the asters which sing: “grab a bunch of us before the first frost.”

Curiously what we thought in those early years coming up from the Connecticut shore was a beautiful destination became our destiny over the years.

Simply put: Vermont fed our family soul.

I worked joyfully in Ministry sharing in the life of more than 30 churches including 15 years in Peacham. Meanwhile, my wife gave leadership to one of the largest affordable housing organizations in the nation working from her country office. The “children” and “grandchildren” found motivation and deep meaning in life here at Pineberry Farm with an extensive maple syrup and Christmas tree operation.

In these recent peaceful years in our life, we have found beauty beyond our beholding from Brattleboro to Burlington and throughout the Northeast Kingdom as well as the Great North Woods.

What has happened to us is what has become the process for many.

In summary, a destination has taken hold of our deepest self, and it has become our destiny.

So what we leave to those we love the most is a legacy of love. Certainly, this is the best definition of how a destination becomes destiny and enables a soul to sing forever.

Bob Potter lives with his family in Wheelock and pastors the Monadnock Congregational Church Church of the Great North Woods in Colebrook, NH. The services are live-streamed at mcccolebrook.org. He can be reached at robertpotterrev@gmail.com

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