Once upon a time, there was a quiet little village. . .
How many stories have you heard as a child that begin with that phrase? What exactly is a village? According to Wikipedia, “The typical village was small, consisting of perhaps 5 to 30 families. Homes were situated together for sociability and defence, and land surrounding the living quarters was farmed.” 
It sounds so quaint. I picture a small community gathering to their homes for supper. As the sun sets people trickle back outside to wish the members of their village good night while on their evening stroll. Then as the sun dips below the horizon, faint candle glows flicker in the windows of the homes, dotting the countryside.
We live in a village. The modern definition of a “village” is less impressive now. In the state of Wisconsin, a village is always legally separate from the towns that it has been incorporated from. What this means, to me, is that our water doesn’t come from a well like the people who live in the Town.
It wasn’t until we found “the house for us” that we moved from our temporary dwelling. The move went quickly thanks to the dedicated people in our branch who all seemed very eager to have a new family move into the area. Thanks branch! We were tired of the endless unpacking and so decided to go for a bike ride down to the local elementary school. My hope was that Enoch would find kids he could play with there so I could have a moment’s peace from his endless badgering. We were in luck . . . very great luck.
It started out with Enoch finding an entire group of kids, his age ( maybe a little older ), in a summer activity group all playing at the elementary play ground. The councilors saw me keeping track of my second little one and assured me they’d help keep an eye on Enoch (who had already introduced himself and invited himself to play with all the children in the company ). That was swell, but then . . . the village fire department came. Every year they schedule, with the Summer Activities Group, a totally awesome SPRAY DOWN!
Yes, they staked down a tarp, set up the fire hose next to it and hosted a wicked Slip ‘n Slide. From the spout atop the truck they shot a turbulent stream of water several yards out. Enoch ran to me once he saw the water being pumped out. “Mom! Can I take my shirt off and play in the water?” I told him to knock himself out.
He did. Talk about being in the right place at the right time! We’ll be sure to make a date of the fire department Spray Down every year now.
I love our village.
PETERSEN: Vermont Chapter 