I’m not a winter sort of person. I used to live in Southern California. If I heard about an outdoor venue where I could promote and sell my books, it was an easy decision. Drive out, set up a table or share one, and sit back to enjoy whatever happened. At the very least, I could work on my tan.

Things are a little different in Vermont, she says ruefully. At least for outdoor venues. Especially for outdoor venues. Double especially for outdoor venues in the dead of winter.

On December 14th, I got up at six a.m. and by eight was on the road to Cabot, a town I’d heard much about but had never visited before. Outside the car, the temperature moved up from 7 degrees (F) to a toasty 12. In my trunk I had packed copies of all my books: a murder-mystery series, one short-story collection, a coming-of-age novel and both the 2022 and 2024 Best New England Crime Stories anthologies published by Crime Spell Books of Cambridge, Massachusetts. These last two because I have a story included in each one.

S. Lee Manning (Sandy) had invited me through Sisters in Crime to join her and her husband J.B. Manning at their table. They are a remarkable crime/thriller-writing duo who write series and standalone novels separately. They also, together, vlog their adventures as “A Killing Couple”. Check out their entertaining posts.

I had no idea how big this “Holiday Market” would be, but I got my first inkling when my Google maps app sent me up a long winding dirt road. I thought it went through Danville, though I never actually saw a town center. Never saw much of anything while I negotiated curves on an ice-crusted dirt road and dodged deer leaping out of the woods. I wasn’t worried about getting lost (never saw another road to get lost on). But the thought began to emerge that somehow I (or Google, bless them) might have made a mistake, and I might have to backtrack and lose time.

My second inkling was when the dirt road dumped out on what appeared to be a small paved main drag with half a dozen storefronts. Harry’s Hardware, the “headquarters” of the Holiday Market, was right in front of me, and I could see folks putting out display tables along the street and warming up portable food vending equipment. As Google maps would say but didn’t, I had found my destination.

I parked at the library across the street, locked up and went to check things out. Already vendors were starting their grills for hot food and arranging displays of handmade crafts. A small portable pen contained a few adorable goats and was already attracting the children. I don’t know if the vendor sold goats or cheese or maybe goat’s-milk soap. I didn’t get a chance to find out.

I’d timed my two-hour drive to arrive around ten a.m. because I thought that’s when it started. Turns out it didn’t ‘officially’ start until 11 a.m. so I dipped into Harry’s Hardware to thaw out my nose. If you’re ever going through Cabot, make time to stop! Just inside on the left were huge bags of every kind of feed for every kind of farm animal. In front of me were crates of canning jars and the accoutrements to go with. Shelving stretched to the back of the store, packed with everything you can imagine a store that served a small town (pop. 1443 at the last census) might have to carry.

And on the right — an eight-stool bar with a satisfying choice of tap and bottled beer. Above the shelves of bottles were menus with sandwiches and soup. It looked like Harry’s was the place to be. But right now, the sidewalk was the place for me to be.

When I left the warmth of Harry’s, I spotted Sandy and Jim setting up their table. I arranged my books on one end, and we spent the next five hours greeting people, explaining who we were. Sandy had warned me to “dress warm”, and I’ve been in Vermont long enough to value my thermals no matter what the venue. But by noon, our lips and throats were so cold, we had trouble talking up our books to the people who wandered by while their kids tried to drag them to talk to Santa who was now sitting on Harry’s front porch.

To my surprise, most people assumed we were just booksellers with a rather small offering and probably used books at that. But once they realized we were the authors of the books, in the flesh, they lit up with interest. We sold some books, made a few friends, and had to work hard not to spend our profits on hot coffee.

By four o’clock, interest had died to a trickle. Harry’s Hardware, on the other hand, was packed elbow to elbow with people. A tiny band tucked in amongst bags of chicken feed made music that thumped the old wood floorboards. Saturday night was beginning to heat up. I thought of getting a hot drink for the road but remembered the long trip. Squatting over snow by the side of the road? Nope.

When I left, I chose a different route, a little out of my way but two-lane tarmac. Houses, more stores, no deer. I passed the Cabot cheese factory spouting plumes of hot air and in no time at all made it back to the sparsely populated freeway that runs parallel to the spine of Vermont. I put my car on cruise control and sang Christmas carols to the radio. The late sun was on my back, a tissue-paper full moon floated directly in front, and I could see snow on the far-off mountains.

Altogether, I decided, it was one of the best ways to spend a winter day in Vermont.