Had never been up to the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont so headed out the day before and booked a motel the night of June 1st in Lyndon so could get a full night’s sleep before filming at daybreak. The plan backfired spectacularly, didn’t sleep a wink prior to jumping in the predawn car and heading up to Glover to film with John Rodgers.
The further from the highway, the more beautiful it got, the pavement turning to dirt, the twilight turning to dawn. Pulled into the driveway at the end of the road and it felt like i was entering into someone’s personal heaven. Walked up and shook hands with John before talking about the thing we all have in common~ the weather.
At that point, Spring had been non-stop rain, and planting for the cannabis plants was delayed because of the dangers of driving tractors in mud. John chuckled about the inconvenience of the season with the good-natured self-assured manner of a man who is certain of who he is and where he fits in the universe.
Set up the camera for a few minutes and jumped into John’s car, which may have been a red subaru, and we drove back down the road i’d just driven up. Minutes later arrived at a greenhouse where hundreds of tiny cannabis plants were awaiting water and eventual transplantation.
He’s the fifth generation on the farm, with his forbears arriving in 1838, and building the stalwart family home in 1840 that John and his wife still live in today. Generations six and seven are now on the farm too, in large part because of the ludicrously hard work of his ancestors who cleared raw land, spurned a hundred and fifty winters, dairied every day no matter what- before John decided to choose a new path…
best thoughts,
graham
p.s. this is the first part of what will be at least three parts about John. enjoy!
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