Windsor, VT: Small Towns

Old towns have tales to tell. In New England, that’s just about all of them. Welcome to Windsor, “the Birthplace of Vermont.”

That’s the title Windsor obtained in 1777, when Vermont’s Constitution was drawn up in a graceful white clapboard building that’s now a museum called, naturally enough, Constitution House. By the way, that document forbade slavery in Vermont, which set itself up as an independent republic until 1791, when it became the 14^th state–on the condition that slavery would not be the price of admission.

Then came the early 19^th century, when Windsor became an industrial village where leather harnesses, guns, and furniture were produced. Robbins and Lawrence made machine parts and some say their factory is where interchangeable parts were first made. Try having an Industrial Revolution without them! That factory closed in 1866 and it was an armory for the next hundred years until it was converted to the American Precision Museum, a sturdy red brick building that showcases the age of water power where Mill Brook tumbles over a small dam and makes its way downhill to empty into the Connecticut River. Inside the museum there’s enough info on engineering and tools to warm a gear geek’s heart.

In the 20^th century, Cone Machine Company and Goodyear were the largest employers. Both have closed and, like postindustrial towns everywhere, took a big chunk of the population with them. In 1960, there were 4,468 people in town; today there are just 3,553 and it would be fewer still were it not well-situated. Vermonters would be loath to admit it, but being on the border with New Hampshire has something to with that. Windsor is the gateway to the section of Cornish, NH that was once a thriving artists’ colony.

One of them, Augustus Saint-Gaudens, left behind studios and a home that is now a national historical park. If the name doesn’t ring immediate bells, Saint-Gaudens (1848-1907) was one of the most famous sculptors of his day. Among his works are The Puritan, Abraham Lincoln: The Man, and the Robert Gould Shaw Memorial that stands on Boston’s Beacon Hill. There’s hardly a major city that doesn’t have one of his works–mostly of those you don’t want to topple. At the park, you can see various pieces, studies, and casts. It’s also a very pleasant place to stroll through well-kept gardens and hike.

Crossing the Connecticut River is one of Windsor’s big attractions, and that’s no joke. One does so via the Windsor-Cornish Bridge, a 449 ½ foot long lattice truss covered bridge. It was the world’s longest covered bridge until 2008, when a faux steel and wood structure was built in Ohio. It’s a thrill to bore into a wooden tunnel that often requires headlights to penetrate the darkness. Some folks drive across several times and almost everyone stops on the New Hampshire side to snap a few photos.

Back in Windsor, a saunter down the main street reveals some of its postindustrial wreckage. It’s higher in elevation and affords a look at old factories and rundown properties. This is not a part of Vermont synonymous with rustic charm. Think abandoned or barely repurposed factories and homes that display the attendant poverty associated with job flight. It’s not a nice side stroll, but it does explain why Windsor’s town center is a mishmash–factory housing reborn as apartments, once-grand but still-handsome homes set back from the road, housing stock of varied quality, churches, and a quirky business district. You’ll find a greasy spoon diner, a striped pole barber shop, an insurance company, a credit union, antique stores, and some open-whenever stores. But you’ll also see an arts center and a firehouse whose upstairs morphs from one thing to another. It used to be a place where you could see Maxfield Parrish chromos, but that’s gone now, as Parrish’s studio in Cornish is no longer open to the public. I won’t lie; Windsor is trying but it has a way to go. I often wonder if locals appreciate the ironic name of its sleek new(ish) coffee shop: Boston Dreams.

Here’s the thing, though. Unless you pack a picnic, you’ll spend time in Windsor if you want to eat. Boston Dreams does nice breakfasts and lunches. There’s also an eatery and bar in the town’s Amtrak station, which is unique these days in that part of the railroad station is actually a station! There are pizza shops in town and a few restaurants I’ve not tried. Most visitors head a little further up the road.

Windsor is also where one accesses the road to Mount Ascutney (3,144’) where there’s a nice overview, hang gliding, and skiing on the northwest side of the mountain. It’s south of town, but if you drive north of the center you can sample distilled spirits at SILO or make your way to the Harpoon Brewery. I confess that Harpoon isn’t my bière de choix, but lots of folks like it and there’s very good pub grub to be grabbed. If you want to spend some silly money, Simon Pearce has a glassblowing and retail studio nearby.  Also close by is an unlikely pairing, an outdoor center where you can rent a kayak or canoe to paddle the Connecticut, or you might want to stay land-bound to Path of Life Garden. Cross some 60s hippies, New Age mystics, Eastern religion, and quirky artists and this is what you get. You walk counter-clockwise through sculptures, environmental art, enigmatic carvings and installations and make a symbolic journey from life and death to rebirth. If this sounds too funky, chill; it’s actually a magical one-of-a-kind place. Plus, there’s a high-hedge maze where you, your kids, and everyone in your party can get lost. I think of the Path of Life Garden as a metaphor for Windsor and towns like it.  
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Rob Weir