April 2026: My First Vermont Spring Building a Farm, Event Venue & Homestead

This is my first full spring living in Vermont, and it continues to surprise me how quickly life emerges beneath the snow. As the grass returns and the ducks splash through the flooded pasture, I’m beginning to envision the future of our Vermont homestead and event venue. I dream about having a pond on the property for the ducks to play in, for us and guests to sit around or float on while listening to a soundbath. I’m picturing the hoop house or high tunnel that we can use to extend the growing season, and eventually host intimate dinner parties in surrounded by plants. I’m starting to plan the corner of the property that will house the donkeys and sheep, and where we’ll move the ducks to, so that they’ll be closer to the garden for pest control, and so that we can reuse their waste water for fertilizing the plants. In order to do that we need to have irrigation, and probably a power source. The whole “If you give a mouse a cookie” predicament. But hopefully these will be investments that will remain for decades after they are constructed, and with fingers crossed as I write this the first week of April, they will pay for themselves with weddings and events by the end of the year. 

There are flowers popping up through the grass. Tiny 6-petaled purple ones that I’ve never noticed before called Glory of the Snow, emerged from bulbs and blanketing the yard. I’ve likely never seen them before because the grass has been mowed by the time that I’ve visited in the past. I’ve learned that mowing the lawns in New England is necessary to prevent the populations of ticks from flourishing, and you want the first mow to be before the grass is too tall to be handled by the basic ride on lawn mowers. I’m hoping that I can dig them up and relocate them to an area where they can thrive without the threat of the necessary first mow. Last year I’d hoped to harvest the abundant dandelions before the grass was cut, but I just missed the opportunity between trips. I’d like to make silly things like dandelion wine, and I’ve read about dandelion fritters that I’m tempted to try. The novelty of foraging on my own land is something I may never get over. I keep hoping that I’ll discover a patch of ramps, or morels here. I did spot a puffball on an adjacent property last year that I hope reappears. 

Monte started seeds in the basement at the end of March. This year should be a bit better since we’ll be here full time to keep an eye on them and take care of them. I’d left my property manager Lexi in charge of the seedlings last year, which wasn’t fair to any of us, and the results were dismal. Luckily we bought a ton of starts from Woods Market that produced like crazy. Even though the garden isn’t even planted yet, I’m anxious about the end of the summer frost. I’m wishing that we had used wood for the planters so that we could at least staple plastic to the raised beds to protect the delicate plants when the time comes, but that would have taken time and resources that we didn’t have. 2025 was a good trial run, and luckily we didn’t have events or sales dependent on the crop that was destroyed with one night of extremely low temps. This year we will be more prepared, take more precautions, process what we have when it’s ripe to preserve it, or sell it at the market or farm stand. 

April, as I’ve learned, is dead for the AirBnB. Not quite mud season, but not enough snow to entice the skiers. I’d hoped to host my first retreat this month in order to offset the loss of income, but as of mid April I’m still holding my breath while in permit limbo, so instead I’m just hoping to take advantage of the downtime, wrap up projects, learn some new skills (I did get to work with ramps for the first time, the recipe is at the end), spend time on hobbies, perhaps start working on simple wedding cakes, market the ice cream/affogato/coffee cart for other venues hosting weddings and events, and do what I can to learn from those so that when it’s my turn I’ll have a step up. We are planning our first visit to Montreal, will host a small group of family and friends for Easter, our first sound bath at Pyramid in their salt cave, and a visit from my famed chef friend Christina where we will spend time here, and then head to NYC for a conference and some foodie R&D and lady boss R&R. 

I can finally turn sections of the house off. My fingers are crossed that I’ve received my last propane delivery. The propane bills have equaled my mortgage in the Bay Area, and an unexpected electricity bill because of the ridiculous solar system I inherited and incentives that never seem to work out caused me to lose a $1500 credit, which was half of the unexpected bill. Unfortunately this wouldn’t be my last unexpected surprise of the month, nor the most expensive. 

Fair warning, this may make me sound like an idiot, but in my defense this is only the second home I’ve ever purchased, and there are many people that should have caught this before the sale ever happened. There was a map in the basement of the property. I looked it over with both of the real estate agents, as the property was covered in snow when I visited that first February in 2024. I noted the names of the sellers, and thought it was a cool souvenir that I would hope to get my name on someday. I DID NOT KNOW IT WAS A LEGAL DOCUMENT. It was a survey. Something professionally done by a surveyor who marks the property using a combination of title information going back in my case centuries. From script to typewriter to computer. Satellite views, aerial shots, and tape measures are used to measure out lot lines. Markers are put up with orange flags in some instances, in others 4 foot lengths of rebar are hammered into the ground “flush” with the terrain. I’d asked the town a few times for this “map”. I love maps. I wanted one with my name on it. They didn’t have one. I’ve come to find out, it was never submitted to the town. It seems like the previous owners never submitted it. It seems intentional.

In 2018, two owners ago, a man hired a local kid (now a man) to put in a 100 x 10 foot gravel driveway to the back part of my property. According to that kid, that owner said, “I think this is the lot line”. This driveway is how we access the back property. Because of how the homes were built in the early 1800s, they are so close together that there is no room for any other driveway to access the back of the property unless buildings are taken down, ancient maple trees removed, or absolutely destroying the visual integrity of this stretch of the main downtown.

There is an old tennis court that we park our vehicles on, that the trailers are on, the solar panels, and surrounding that, over 3-acres of pasture land that we have started to develop with raised culinary garden beds, compost bins, walking paths, pollinator fields, and an area that will house our animals. The ducks are down there. Most of it will remain wild, maximizing the natural beauty and attracting polinators. But work needs to be done. A fresh batch of compost needs to be delivered. The area that is supposed to be flattened in preparation for sheds to house the animals needs to be fixed after the last contractor that was hired actually made the area worse than before. None of this can be safely accessed without using the driveway. In fact, last season I paid $3500 to have more gravel put down on it. 

The owner of the abandoned properties, who no one has been able to get a hold of for years, recently passed. He gave the property to whom we’re assuming was a recently made friend. The last week that anyone could contest my unanimously granted permits by the town zoning commission, a neighbor, who is the attorney for the abandoned estate, alerted me that I would be unable to use the driveway that I assumed was mine, or else they would charge me with trespassing, and also noted that the local and state law enforcement was alerted of the situation. He would also contest my permits with the state. I was within days of finally getting the ability to start marketing the property for events. I awoke one morning to see that he'd placed a big orange cone, and a wildlife camera in the middle of the driveway, to deter me from using it, and likely to catch me trespassing. 

I’ve naively been doing every single thing above board since purchasing this property, including hiring attorneys to create LLCs, an accountant team that specializes in small businesses, and only working with insured contractors, so the last thing I was going to do was cause any issues after this threat. I ended up hiring yet another attorney, paying the retainer, and began the process of seeing if I could purchase the land I thought I already owned. We made a more than reasonable offer, which was rejected, and “they” countered with an obscene amount that made it quite clear they are trying to extort me, so as of this writing, I am looking at the cost of installing the driveway where it should have been placed in 2018. 

I wish I could demonstrate to you how incredibly insane and unnecessary this is. The driveway affects nothing and no one, except for me. It is a 10 foot wide 100 foot long strip of gravel that should have been placed 2-5 feet east of where it is now, and is bordered by thick brush that makes it impossible to even see the abandoned houses, much less access them. My attorney, my neighbors, the surveyor, local friends are all mystified by the behavior. Every day we get new details or insight that further adds to the mystery. A new driveway could cost in the ballpark of $5000, and would require me to remove a tree, and would impact the last remaining apple tree from an ancient orchard on the property. That is the last thing I want to do, and I can think of so many other things I could or should do with that amount of money. The attorney also has full view of the back of my property from the upstairs of his home, so this entire scenario is disturbing, and has put me in an incredible depression that’s hard to get out of. My property is so stunning, and it’s starting to warm up, so all I want to do is sit in the hanging chairs and relax, but spending time in the yard, feeling eyes on me, is causing me too much unnecessary and undeserved stress and anxiety. The amount of stress, anxiety, frustration, confusion, anger, sadness, energy, and money this has caused is truly disheartening and paralizing. So with that, this is the highlight list I was able to pull together based on the photos I took in April (some of these highlights are on Instagram @thisistheplas. I’m hoping May will be better. 

• Turkeys made an appearance on the back pasture 4/2

• Easter, family came over, I made espresso martinis in chocolate bunnies, and an espresso martini cake that I can’t wait to recreate.

• Yellow Daffodils started to emerge in the front yard, and in random patches in the pasture. 4/6

• A dusting of snow on 4/7

• A long overdue visit to the doctors and a thrifting trip that resulted in meeting a 9-day old lamb on a vintage couch, and a chocolate dipped earl gray creemee from Mr. Creemee

• A second visit to Farmer and the Bell, I’m obsessed and may only go to Woodstock on days they’re open.

• Made more pasta from duck eggs

• Our first trip to Montreal, visited spa Balnea, Au Pied de Cochon, St Viateur bagels, oyster happy hours, thrifting, smoked meat at Schwartz’s, Marche Jean Talon, and Ikea.

• Ginger (the duck) had multiple visits to the vet for what might have been a hip displacement from being humped too hard

• Harvested the birdhouse gourds that spent the winter hardening and separated out the seeds from the ones that were rotten 

• Clipboards engraved for classes with the same design I had made for the postcards

• More snow on April 19 and 20 but doesn’t stick

• Replaced Boston ferns on staircase (Lowe’s still has the best beginning of the season deal)

• Switched out Christmas decor for spring decor in greenhouse, including realistic looking olive trees

• Cherry Bombe Jubilee in NYC with Christina, which included: buying ramps and a ton of herb starts at the Union Square market; meeting and hanging out with the Maher family (sadly Ilona wasn’t there, but her sisters, mom, and aunt are cool AF); met Zahra after listening to her newly released book Extra Sauce; listening to a talk with cultural phenomenon Nara Smith; dinner at Ivan Ramen and eating the best cauliflower dish I’ve ever had; and spending the last morning Little Spain where I finally got to experience Jose Andres liquid olive. 

• Playing scratchers and winning $50 on the drive back

• A stop at Mach’s for rations

• Blankets of white and purple violets replacing the Glory of the Snow on the lawn

• Shelburne Vineyard for tasting (the sweeter wines were actually really good, and I brought home a bottle of their chillable red)

• Medicinal herbal tea garden workshop by Spoonful at Shelburne Farms

• S'mores by the fire for Christina’s last night, used stroopwafels when we couldn’t find graham crackers

• Stopped at Red Wagon on the way back from dropping her off at the airport to rescue more plants

• Making pickled ramps and ramp salt (after months of onions, potatoes, beets, and turnips at the farmers market I can see why people loose their minds over ramps and fiddlehead ferns)

Pickled Ramps 3 ways and Ramp Salt

This recipe is inspired by the Forager Chef

Pickled Ramps

Equipment

• 3 Pint mason jars

• 2 quart sauce pot

Ingredients

• 1 lb Ramp Bulbs or as many will fit in 3 pint jars; save the fresh green leaves to dehydrate for ramp salt (2 parts dehydrated and sifted ramp leaves to 1 part Diamond Kosher salt by volume)

• 3 Cups water

• 1 Tablespoon kosher or sea salt

• 1/2 Cup sugar

• 1.5 cups rice wine vinegar see note

• 2 Tablespoons pickling spice (or spice of your choosing, I did one with Trader Joe’s chili crunch, and one with a Tunisian inspired harissa seasoning mix)

Instructions

• Wash and clean the ramps. Remove any remaining taproots from the wild leeks, as well as any dirty, clinging sheath. Remove the leaves and save for another purpose (they can be pickled too). Any healthy taproots can be planted in your yard.

• Pack the pint jars full of ramp bulbs, leaving ½ inch headspace. Allow them to come to room temperature.

• Bring the water, vinegar, salt, sugar and spices to a boil.

• Pour the bring over the ramps in the jars right up to the brim (you don't have to leave as much room as you won't water bath can them). The brine must be boiling hot.

• Screw the lids on tight, then turn upside down and allow to cool. After cooling, the ramps will be shelf stable just like if they were water bath canned.

• Alternatively, store the ramps covered in their liquid in your fridge, without canning. They'll last a long time, at least until next ramp season.