Vermont’s Coziest Holiday Inns

Skies are leaden and snows will soon fall and ponds will freeze as innkeepers prepare for another old-fashioned holiday season in Vermont.

With the approach of winter, autumn winds scatter leaves and frosted windows glow in the gathering darkness. Already, in Stowe, the warmth of the season is sensed at the lodge owned by the Von Trapp family, whose forebears were the inspiration for the musical “The Sound of Music.”

This year, dozens of lighted trees will sparkle in the Trapp Family Lodge, and carols will be sung on Christmas Eve. On New Year’s Eve, guests will dance to Viennese waltzes and fireworks will brighten the chill night.

The setting in Stowe brings to mind the Von Trapp family’s native Salzburg, with rolling hills that break away to a village where skiers gather in snug cafes and logs burn and snow gathers at the door.

Meanwhile, south of Stowe at the Inn at Sawmill Farm, visitors discover a setting that fulfills every traveler’s holiday fantasy. At Sawmill Farm, guests are greeted in a converted barn with a huge Christmas tree, and there’s caroling at the Congregational church in West Dover, a storybook village with country stores, whitened hills and covered bridges.

At Sawmill Farm, icicles glisten and guests will settle in chintz sofas and chairs while awaiting the arrival on Christmas Eve of Old Whiskers himself.

It is a scene that will be repeated at scores of inns across Vermont.

For the second consecutive year, country-style festivities will be celebrated at 33 inns in Vermont’s Mad River Valley, where on moonlit nights, cross-country skiers will search the heavens for the North Star; there will be eggnog parties, sleigh rides, candlelight masses and inn-to-inn caroling.

A favored retreat in the Mad River Valley is The Inn at the Round Barn, which gets its name from a marvelous old barn where plays and concerts are staged.

Ex-New Jersey florists Jack and Doreen Simko bought the 85-acre farm in 1985, shored up the barn and spiffed up the old house. This is one of those warm New England inns that travelers search for. Notes of Vivaldi and Mozart flow through the farmhouse, with its four-posters and canopied and brass beds.

On Christmas Day, dinner is served in a setting that harks back to 18th-Century New England. And no matter what the season, the Simko’s daughter, AnneMarie, prepares gourmet breakfasts--cinnamon-raisin Belgian waffles with maple whipped cream, cottage cheese pancakes with raspberry-maple syrup, baked apples, homemade muffins and other delights.

Nearby at Susan and Dan Easley’s Lareau Farm Country Inn (circa 1832), an ironing board serves as a coffee table, empire sofas are scattered throughout the public rooms and horse-drawn sleighs call for guests at the door.

With four dogs, three cats, a couple of horses, three chickens and an occasional deer, Lareau Farm is particularly appealing to children. The Mad River flows past its door and guest rooms are furnished with brass and antique beds, and on Christmas Eve, the Easleys prepare for a traditional holiday dinner.

Beyond the Mad River Valley, in the picture-post-card village of Woodstock, locals turn out for the lighting of a yule log on the green, carolers sing door-to-door and bell ringers join a parade with horse-drawn carriages.

Renowned as one of America’s prettiest towns, Woodstock during the holidays is pure magic. It is an anachronism, a wistful dream, a flashback to an era when America was young and life was uncomplicated. At Woodstock, the tone and freshness of 19th-Century America unfolds in a sequence of stately homes, leafy elms and concerts on the green.

The postman still pedals about on a bicycle and the spires of New England churches poke out of groves of elms. With the 21st Century approaching, Woodstock seems to have avoided the stresses related to other villages in small-town America. Covered bridges span the Ottauquechee River, and a town crier announces daily events that are later posted on a blackboard on the village green.

Woodstock appears more fiction than fact, more false than real. Little changes--not the graceful buildings nor the country back roads nor, at this time of year, the lighted Christmas trees.

Church bells cast by Paul Revere echo in the foothills and yellow light shines from frosted window panes at the Prince & Pauper, a snug restaurant off Elm Street. A holiday mood prevails as well at Bentley’s Restaurant, with its Victorian bar and sofas and a menu featuring maple mustard chicken, Long Island duckling and steak flamed in whiskey with crushed pepper corn.

Shoppers crowd F. H. Gillingham & Sons’ gourmet grocery, where shelves groan with maple sugar candy, maple syrup, crab-apple jelly, blueberry preserves, raspberry and rhubarb jams, spiced peaches, tins of biscuits and jars of rock candy.

During the holidays, Woodstock’s sidewalks are deserted of an evening as smoke curls from chimneys and visitors settle in the warmth of inns and restaurants with flaming logs and tables laden with home-baked rolls, chicken, ribs, rhubarb pie and myriad other selections.

Facing the village green, Woodstock Inn, with its lighted trees and Christmas wreaths, traces its roots to 1773. Originally Richardson’s Tavern, the handsome, colonial-style inn--the showplace of Woodstock--was rebuilt in 1969 by Laurance Rockefeller. With 120 rooms, the inn features handmade quilts, period furniture and king-size beds. Others join Max and Merrily Comins at their Kedron Valley Inn south of Woodstock. In a village boasting more horses than cars, the 150-year-old shelter is crowded with canopy beds, Franklin stoves, needlepoint rugs, antique rockers and heirloom quilts.

If a nagging sense of the familiar persists, it is no coincidence, for it is Kedron that Budweiser features in its annual holiday TV commercial--picturing a team of Clydesdale horses passing the inn on a snowy afternoon.

Guests at Kedron Valley Inn ice skate on a frozen lake, peel off on cross-country ski trips, join downhill skiers at Killington, Okemo, Ascutney and Woodstock’s famed Suicide Six. Other guests are delivered through snow fields in horse-drawn sleighs.

South of Kedron, proprietor Jack Coleman of The Inn at Long Last warms up to the season as few other Vermonters do. Coleman admits unashamedly, “I’m a Christmas freak.” As such, he turns his big barn of an inn in the village of Chester into a showcase of lighted trees and holiday music.

Coleman’s presence continues to ignite the 18th-Century building with its sofas and fireplaces and stockings hung by the chimney with such care. Studying the twinkling lights in this old, old inn, Coleman smiles happily. “Christmas brings out the good in people--if only for a few days,” he says.

Coleman and his staff don Victorian costumes to join carolers on the green. At an appointed hour--in a single, magical moment--each light in the village flashes on simultaneously. After this, snug in heavy coats and mufflers, carolers march off to candlelight services at Chester’s churches, returning afterward for hot chocolate at The Inn at Long Last. A bit old-fashioned? You bet. This is what Christmas is all about in Chester, a town that cherishes near-forgotten childhood dreams.

Throughout the holidays, recorded Christmas classics fill Coleman’s inn. Off the lobby, services are held in the Ichabod Onion Room, children attend a story hour at the village library, and sleigh bells ring and church bells peal throughout the village.

And then there’s the happiest inn in all Vermont--possibly in all New England--here in Weathersfield. It is known simply as The Inn at Weathersfield. Little has changed since my last visit several years ago. For someone searching for a holiday scene lost in memory, The Inn at Weathersfield provides a serene setting.

It faces a country road south of Woodstock, and only a short drive from Chester. Just as Jack Coleman sparks a rare warmth at The Inn at Long Last, the same is true of Mary Louise and Ron Thorburn, proprietors of The Inn at Weathersfield.

From the moment one enters the lounge, cares dissolve in a setting of pure joy. While I say little has changed, well . . . Ron’s hair is a trifle longer. Yes, and he’s a bit grayer. A huge, gregarious man, he takes his place at the piano each evening to play for guests while logs crackle in a stone hearth and candles glow.

The Inn at Weathersfield is a rambling old pile with a dozen rooms, a dozen fireplaces and a lovable mutt named Maximilian who snoozes in a corner--whenever he isn’t hitching a ride in a sleigh or tagging after horse-drawn carriages.

Originally a farm and stagecoach stop, the inn is a bastion of creature comforts. Each room has a private bath. Guests snooze in brass and four-poster beds and sink into sofas and Queen Anne chairs.

Of all the inns throughout New England, the Inn at Weathersfield is a hands-down favorite of travelers. What sets it apart is the cheeriness of its proprietors, who, unlike so many other innkeepers, refuse to hike prices during the holidays. Rates remain a steady $80 single/$160 double for accommodations, afternoon tea, dinner and a full American breakfast.

Ron, 63, describes himself as the “house boy,” and Mary Louise, whose culinary talents are renowned throughout New England, reigns in the kitchen. Arriving at their inn is like slipping into a pair of comfortable old jeans and slamming shut the door on one’s daily cares. In an instant, the blood pressure takes a dive. Or so it seems.

For Thanksgiving and Christmas Day, Mary Louise prepares meals on an open hearth: such holiday fare as roast turkey, rabbit stew, poached pears, veal, lamb, pork, fish chowder, oysters, clams, pheasant and partridge--along with cakes and pies.

The warmth of the season is sensed throughout the house: in the Gathering Room, the Keeping Room , the little 1790 Tavern Room and the book-lined dining room where Ron plays his nostalgic oldies.

A few days before Christmas, guests gather in the woods for the lighting of a yule log, and they help the Thorburns string popcorn and cranberries for floor-to-ceiling trees decorated with antique baubles.

Beside an open fireplace, guests sip hot cider and recite stories about cherished holidays past. Following this ritual, boughs are placed in the fire and carols are sung.

On Christmas Day, while Mary Louise prepares dinner, guests bundle up for sleigh rides and go ice skating on a pond just outside the door. Afterwards, musicians present a concert with a harpsichord and dulcimer, with Ron accompanying on the piano.

For those searching for the perfect setting for an old-fashioned holiday, this could be the place . . . particularly on a silent night when snowflakes freeze against frosted windows and carols are sung before an open hearth.

For a list of other Vermont inns preparing for the holidays, see today’s Travel Tips on Page 3.