Adventures in Everyday Oddities

Described by American national treasure Mr. Fred Rogers as “a small state which makes an enormous difference,” Vermont was an independent country for fourteen years. It had its very own, very green flag, currency, postal service, and military system. By 1791 it had joined the Union, yet there remains an independent streak to this state that makes it easy to believe it was once a nation unto itself. Not only is it primed for unexpected adventures and atypical collectors, it’s also self-aware: one of its state slogans is “Bet Ya Can’t Name Two of Our Towns.”

Vermont is widely recognized for what can be consumed and shipped out of it: Ben & Jerry’s, maple syrup, craft beer. It’s also proud of its progressive politics and counterculture living, and of making billboards illegal to preserve its natural beauty. Most people have sampled its delicious exports. But what do the people of the Green Mountain State hold on to?

Seek, perhaps in a Subaru, and you shall find. For a state small enough that twenty-eight of them could fit into Texas, and with a capital city home to fewer residents than the number of people who work in the Empire State Building, there are plenty of curious destinations worthy of a closer look.

1. Museum of Everyday Life

Five miles south of Glover village (population three hundred) is a museum filled with things you have seen many times. The Museum of Everyday Life is a self-service joint, where you are free to roam from 8 to 8. If you’re perusing solo, start your adventure by quite literally turning on the lights, then prepare yourself for a one-of-a-kind museum that is wholly uninterested in one-of-a-kind pieces. Instead, it showcases objects we use daily: pencils, mirrors, toothbrushes. Its goal is to “defy the commodity-based model of collection” while elevating the mundane to art.

This unusually usual collection is maintained by volunteers as a celebration of community and a reminder that perhaps we all need to spend more time examining safety pins. Past exhibits have focused on locks, scissors, knots, and dust—before it blew away.

Yes, the ordinary can be extraordinary, when we change our gaze. And of course there’s beauty to be found in entirely common items. But be aware that the only bells and whistles on offer here are actual bells and whistles. Just don’t forget to turn off the lights before you leave.

2. Dog Chapel

In the “shire town” of St. Johnsbury, you’ll find Dog Mountain, where “all creeds, all breeds, no dogmas” are welcome. This precious chapel was created by artist and woodworker Stephen Huneck as a loving testament to our canine companions.

Well before the chapel was built, Huneck became so severely ill that he fell into a coma. Defying all expectations, he awoke, but had to relearn how to walk, write, and carve wood. Throughout that challenging span, he mused on his renewed gratitude for life and our rituals surrounding death. One evening, as he was using his walker to cross a threshold between rooms, an unconventional idea sprang to mind: Build a dog chapel. Though he was instantly filled with new ambition, his medical bills had put him in the kind of debt that would prevent him from buying supplies for even a birdhouse. Still, he clung to the dream.

Refusing to be dissuaded by his lack of capital, Huneck put a call out to friends that he was on the hunt for stained-glass windows. Not long after, he got a call from a guy who had found the perfect windows and was ready to sell them for a cool six thousand dollars— money Huneck certainly didn’t have. After he hung up, an older couple who had been eavesdropping asked him about the curious conversation, and he described his idea for a dog chapel.

These fellow Vermonters were also dog lovers and generously offered Huneck a deal. If he carved them a six-foot custom table, they’d loan him the necessary funds. He agreed with gusto. The windows were perfect and—once ornamented with pup motifs—were ready for their new home. Three years later, the Dog Chapel was complete.

The wooden building, steeple, and those stained-glass windows suggest a traditional New England chapel. But upon entering, you will receive no hushed reminder to bow your head solemnly. A favorite feature of the space looks like an ongoing mood board but is actually a profoundly touching memorial wall, where visitors leave notes, photos, and mementos honoring their precious furry friends. There’s also a visitors’ book, where people share stories of those who once wagged their tails beside them. The space is complemented by Huneck’s dog-focused paintings, sculptures, and woodcut prints, all on display in the gift shop. Entry remains free and, thankfully, so do the necessary tissues.

P.S. If you’re in a hurry, avoid the nearby Great Vermont Corn Maze…promoted as “24 acres of cornfusion.”

3. Knight’s Spider Web Farm

Arachnophobes: skip this one. But for those who admire Charlotte’s prowess, this unusual collection in Williamstown might just catch your interest. This, the first “web site,” was started by accident. In 1977, Will Knight was cleaning his garage when he accidentally spray-painted a spider’s web. He marveled—as he had since he was a child—at its singular beauty. When Will lost his job with the highway department, he thought back to that web.

His wife, Terry, recalled that her Girl Scout handbook had mentioned that you can collect spiderwebs with hair spray. Will, a woodworker, devised an ingenious method for encouraging spiders to weave, by setting up a sequence of frames in the barn. What he collected became his livelihood, and Will came to be known as the Spider Web Guy (he rejected the name Spider-Man, avoiding potential copyright claims, but more importantly giving all credit for the art to the tiny weavers).

Will’s routine for thirty years was to collect finished webs by spraying them with paint, which helped them adhere to a plaque of wood. Spiders were shooed away and remained unharmed. These tiny creatures created intricate masterpieces, each of which—like snowflakes or fingerprints—differs from any other web in the world. Will examined them critically; those he kept received a few coats of lacquer and were sold.

Will shared his knowledge about the spiders of Vermont at educational talks or to anybody who would listen, until his passing in 2017. Still living on the farm, Terry and their son Will Jr. continue the work and, as a family, have sold over twenty thousand webs. Will Sr.—like Peter Parker—was happiest to remain a local hero. Though he would always defer the notoriety and fanfare to his tiny spin doctors and their beautiful silk artistry, he got his day when he was named one of the “People of the Year” by his local paper.

4. Haskell Free Library & Opera House

If you journey up north, while still (mostly) staying in Vermont, you’ll discover the world’s only opera house with an address in two countries—adjoined by a library where every book is available in both English and French.

Wishing to honor her late husband, Martha Haskell and her son created a cultural center in his name at the dawn of the twentieth century. To pledge allegiance to two flags, the Haskell Free Library & Opera House was constructed on the international border between the United States and Canada.

A single line of thick black tape runs along the floor, not merely to uphold the playful notion that Vermont has been “keeping Canada at bay since 1791” but also because the respective sides have separate governing bodies and even separate insurance policies. The division, however absurd, has enabled the Haskell to collect a few distinctions. The bookshelves sit on the Canadian side, as does the stage, so Haskell’s is the only US library with no books on offer, and the only US opera house without a stage. The main entrance is in Vermont, but patrons from Quebec receive special dispensation to cross the border and enter the building without going through customs…provided they exit through the same door.

For more than one hundred years, the Haskell has been a symbol of the strong relationship between the border towns. And even if you don’t collect a new passport stamp there, you’re guaranteed a refreshing glimpse of how—though arbitrary lines divide us—literature and music bind us together. Plus, any artist who plays one song there can claim to be on an international tour.

5. The Shelburne Museum

The daughter of a sugar magnate and an art-­ collecting philanthropist, Electra Havemeyer Webb dedicated her life to amassing folk art before the term had been coined. Her first acquisition, bought at age nineteen, was a life-size cigar-store figure. Her parents were not thrilled, but Electra was going full steam ahead to collecting, well, everything. The result is the impressive, prodigious, and bizarre Shelburne Museum.

Electra always found beauty in everyday craftwork: needlepoint, hand-carved spoons, more duck decoys than you could imagine. Her passion for homegrown knickknacks grew, even as she had the means to also collect highbrow impressionist paintings. Today, her legacy is scattered throughout forty-five acres with thirty-nine structures, including one-room schoolhouses, a jail, a lighthouse, a carousel, and a 220-foot steamboat.

The restored vessel, a National Historic Landmark, is the last walking-beam passenger steamer still in existence. Built in 1906, the Ticonderoga (fondly referred to as the Ti ) operated on Lake Champlain for nearly half a century. Hauling dear old Ti two miles overland to the Shelburne Museum was a massive engineering effort, hailed by its new owner as one of the “great feats of maritime preservation.” Ti has since been dolled up to reflect life on board a 1923 steamboat. You’re encouraged to explore all four decks, the galley, the crew’s quarters, and the engine—on your own or with a guide.

From weathervanes and re-created circus ephemera to paintings by Monet and Manet, the Shelburne holds over a hundred thousand artifacts, fully earning its title as Vermont’s “collection of collections.”