Wednesday, September 2, 2026

The Cherry on Top


We repeat the journeys of those we love, walking the same paths a generation later."  unknown

The paper birch at the corner of the Wagon Wheel Road and Ira Dow Road is old and witness to all who pass by. A wide crack in its bark extends well up into its branches and yet, when I look up at its crown, its leaves are a lively green and its canopy full and healthy. This birch doesn't mark the actual corner because that spot is occupied by a middle aged sugar maple. A large star made of pressure treated lumber is propped against its trunk. I'm not sure what year the star appeared, but I know it was placed there by our neighbors who were in the process of remodeling their house. During that same time, stars began appearing throughout Vermont, attached to houses, fences and barns. I really enjoyed the unique variety and placement of these stars and later learned they were representative of a town's unity and togetherness. The building of stars might have begun during Covid when many of us were at home with idle hands and an unknown future. 

On a November day, with the dark days of winter approaching, my husband helped me staple white twinkle lights onto the star at the corner. It was a tricky task to avoid stapling through the fine wire that connected the tiny bulbs, but we were able to attach lights to all five points. I anxiously awaited darkness to see how our project had turned out. When it was sufficiently dark, I walked excitedly to the corner. What I saw was perfect!!

Many days after adorning the star with lights, I regretted that I hadn't asked our neighbor for permission to do so. After all, they had built the star and placed it on the corner. So I decided to text message them. In my message, I mentioned how much we appreciated their building the star and we hoped they didn't mind our adding the lights. The response I received has stayed with me.

“Your addition of lights to the star, is the cherry on top”!


Maintaining the star throughout the long winter became my focus. It took multiple strings of lights to cover the star's five points. These were originally battery powered. Often, one string would die while the others stayed lit, resulting in interesting geometric designs. Each string also had many modes. The lights could alternate flashing, fade out, blink frantically or remain steadily on. I preferred steady on, but sometimes the modes got switched and the lights on one point of the star might flash frantically while another point was fading on and off. Straightening out this erratic illumination required a nighttime visit and since the modes couldn't be operated when wearing mittens or gloves, the act of straightening things out resulted in frozen fingers. 

One winter, the Town snow plow hit the base of the star dislodging it from the maple. Several of the star's points were damaged and its lights were hopelessly broken. Once again, my husband helped me with the needed repairs. He replaced the broken wood and securely fastened the star to the trunk of the maple. I restrung it using solar lights, forever making my job as the neighborhood “lamplighter” easier and also eliminating the guilt I felt when using batteries and disposing of them.

It's been well over thirty years since our own children waited on the corner for the school bus. We stand in the cool air among falling maple leaves, listening for the sound of the bus engine, straining as it climbed the last steep hill and looking down the gravel road hoping to catch a glimpse of yellow. Waiting games were played. Throw a rock into the yellow birch leaves and catch one before it hits the ground. Who can throw rocks at the school bus sign and hit it the most times? And the most challenging of all. I dare you to  walk through the culvert beneath the Ira Dow Road. This dark metal tube, just high enough for a child to stand upright, was filled with spider webs. These webs were constructed of strong, elastic like fiber and would not break when a small body pressed against them, but instead would twist around limbs and tangle in hair. The echoed screams from inside that ribbed metal tube were surely heard in the valley below! We called them Wolf Spiders, although I'm sure that wasn't their true name, but it added to the danger of entering such a place. 

Most school day mornings, the dog and I walked to the bus stop.  We picked blackberries along the roadside and my fingers were stained a reddish blue that could last for days.


As our kids grew older, they walked by themselves or rode their bikes to the bus, leaning them against the maple and birch until afternoon drop off. In the blink of an eye, some could drive and fewer kids waited on the corner and eventually no kids waited. 
August 2026

Neither the Town nor the bus company remembered a route that included a bus stop at the corner of Wagon Wheel and Ira Dow Roads. If only the maple or birch could talk! They said the corner was too severe for the bus to safely turn around and the star might need to be removed. However, after much deliberation, the star remained fastened to the maple and kids once again gathered at the corner. No one held phones or wore head
sets. There were greetings and conversation about classes and teachers. Our son, having waited at this very spot in his youth, now waited with his daughters. He demonstrated for all the art of throwing a stone up into the birch leaves hoping to dislodge a leaf to be caught as it fluttered to earth. This skillful act was watched by all, but no one was quick to try. Perhaps it will be tried later without parents in attendance or as the result of upcoming boredom. 

My granddaughters

Some of us looked at the star and I said the lights needed replacing. I showed the neighbor girl the broken wires. She told me it was her star and that the one in the village was her sister's. I'm fairly certain she wasn't born when her family built the star. I asked her what color lights I should put on the star before winter and she quickly replied "rainbow". I thought to myself, what a perfect answer. Now, how to achieve that! 

Our son, who adeptly threw rocks into the birch leaves, will have many more opportunities to show the new kids the old ways of waiting for the bus. He now owns the "big" house where he grew up and sleeps in the same bedroom he once shared with his older brother. We are building a "small" house just footsteps away. I’m happy that once again I'll be walking to the corner with my granddaughters and picking blackberries along the way. We'll stand with our neighbors near the star, listening for the sound of the bus approaching. It's my hope that soon multi-colored star lights will brighten winter nights and full-fill one young girl's wishes.

Big house

Little house