Hi there. I’m Meghan Oliver, the new assistant editor at Northern Woodlands. I couldn’t be happier to be here, assisting in the daily behind-the-scenes action it takes to produce this magazine. I’m the person you can contact with your story pitches, your photo submissions, and your questions about anything from the editorial process to C3 photosynthesis.
I have long admired Northern Woodlands and the work of the foresters, loggers, landowners, and naturalists who both contribute to the publication and subscribe to it. Despite my admiration, I find myself in new territory with some of our subject matter. With a background in writing and wildlife rehabilitation, chainsaw maintenance, for example, is new on my radar screen … but I’m ready to learn.
My joining the magazine comes at a momentous time in our region’s history. Just a few weeks prior to my first day on the job, Tropical Storm Irene ransacked many parts of our readership area. The morning after the storm, I grabbed my dog and walked up and down Route 100 in my hometown of Plymouth, Vermont to see what I could see. The deep, rocky gouges on either end of my road made me come to a fast and hard realization: I was stranded.
Living alone in a rural town, there’s an unsettling feeling when you realize you cannot simply drive your car away; when you realize power will be out for days and there’s no way to make a phone call; that there’s no water to drink, and you smugly did not stock up on food because a hurricane in northern New England surely couldn’t amount to much.
However, I soon found out that being alone in this disaster meant not being alone at all. A neighbor checked in on me right after the storm; I borrowed five different cell phones from friends and strangers to make calls over the next week; I was supplied with meals and water from area residents who had generators and food to spare; and moral support was shared among new friends I met at daily town meetings or simply walking along my road. I felt so proud to be a part of a community where the people were genuinely kind to each other.
Fast forward to today. With this new job comes the need to move, as the Northern Woodlands office in Corinth is a solid 1.5 hour’s drive from Plymouth. And yet, I wonder, how can I so casually leave Plymouth behind, a town that was so good to me in a time of need; a town whose yawning valleys and loon-laden lakes have provided me respite like no other place; a town where I saw my first (and second and third) bear?
Yet as someone prone to looking at people and places through rose-colored glasses, I know reality can paint a slightly different picture. Things weren’t always so great in Plymouth. Winter often meant frozen pipes and no water from the spring-fed system, and I barely ever made it up my roller coaster of a driveway once the snow flew. The lake from which I derived so much pleasure was also the only thing dividing me from a man who broke my heart, putting a pretty big damper on the view out my windows for a time. Those are some things I don’t mind leaving behind.
I read once that when it’s time to move on from something you love, but you’re having trouble, you can start by letting go of the object of your affection while keeping the love for it in your heart. So, I’m packing up my dog, cat, and chickens, and moving on to a new job and a new home in a new Vermont town, taking with me fond memories of Plymouth and its people and a head full of lessons learned.
Symbolic life moments aside, I’m so pleased to be a part of Northern Woodlands, and I look forward to getting to know you – the readers – as time goes by. .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) anytime – I’d love to hear from you.
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