New England Landmark Realty covers the Vermont real estate market

from the inside — market data, buyer strategy, seller timing, land

use regulation, and the policy decisions shaping what homes cost and

who can afford them.

Tony Walton has been working Vermont real estate since 1978.

The analysis here reflects that depth.

Browse by topic below, or use the search to find what you need.

March 3, 2026

The Listing That Stayed

A column by Harris Vexley

There was a house on Clement Road that sat on the market for two years, three months, and — if memory serves, and it mostly does — eleven days.

I know this because I showed it seventeen times. I counted. You start counting things like that when a listing gets personal, and that listing got personal somewhere around showing number six, when a retired schoolteacher from Barre walked through the kitchen, stopped, looked at me with an expression I can only describe as knowing, and said, "Harris, who are you trying to help here, exactly?"

I didn't have a good answer for that.

The house itself was fine. That was the problem, in a way. It was a cape, white, black shutters, good bones as we used to say — which is the real estate equivalent of describing a blind date as having a great personality. The lot was two and a half acres, mostly level, with a tree line on the north end that would have been genuinely beautiful if you weren't already thinking about other things. The seller had replaced the roof in '91. The well tested clean. The price was, by any reasonable standard, fair.

And yet.

In a town of twelve hundred people, and yet carries a lot of weight.

I won't tell you what everyone knew, partly because I'm not sure everyone knew the same thing, and partly because Vermont has a particular way of handling certain histories — which is to say, not handling them at all, but rather letting them settle like sediment until they become part of the geology. You don't discuss sediment. It's just there. It's been there. It will be there after you're gone.

What I will tell you is that every showing followed the same general pattern. People would arrive, usually from a bit of a distance — Montpelier, Burlington, once a couple from Middlebury who'd been looking for eighteen months and were starting to get philosophical about it. They'd walk the property with the particular optimism of people who have not yet made an offer on anything and therefore still believe real estate is a rational process. They'd nod at the roof. They'd approve of the lot. They'd stand in the kitchen and look out the window at the tree line.

And then, at some point in every single showing, they'd go quiet in a way that had nothing to do with contemplation.

"It's very peaceful," one woman said, which was technically true.

"Does it always feel this — " a man started, and then decided not to finish that sentence, which I respected.

The schoolteacher from Barre simply left without explanation, which I also respected, and which was, honestly, the most Vermont response possible.

The couple from Middlebury made an offer. I was surprised. They came back for a second look, walked through more slowly this time, and the husband stood in the back bedroom for a very long time. Then they withdrew the offer. We had a brief phone call. He said it wasn't the right fit. His wife could be heard in the background saying nothing at all, which told me everything.

It sold in the spring of 1994.

The buyer was from New Hampshire — Manchester, I believe — and he came alone, moved efficiently through the rooms, asked reasonable questions about the heating system and the septic, and signed the paperwork with the straightforward confidence of a man who had not grown up in a small town and therefore had no idea what he didn't know.

I have thought about that a lot over the years. Whether it was better or worse for him, not knowing. Whether the house noticed the difference.

Last I heard he lived there twenty years before retiring to Florida. No complaints on record. Sold it himself, eventually, to a young couple from Burlington who put in a new bathroom and started an Instagram account about rural life. They seem happy.

The house is just a house now. The sediment has had thirty years to settle.

Still. Some Tuesday mornings, driving Clement Road out of old habit, I slow down a little when I pass it. Not for any particular reason.

Just to see if it looks back.

Harris Vexley spent thirty years as a licensed real estate broker in Vermont. He is now retired, which mainly means he drives around more and talks to fewer people about it.

Where to Go Next

Talk With a Local Expert

New England Landmark Realty
Office: (802) 253-4711
Toll-Free: (866) 324-2427
Tony Walton Cell: (802) 233-4107
Website: https://www.nelandmark.com

Posted in Harris Vexley Humor

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March 2, 2026

Kitchen Remodels That Actually Work vs. Expensive Lies You're Told Will Add Value

Counter Intellegence March 2, 2026 | New England Landmark Realty

Split-screen comparison of two kitchens with identical budgets - one Instagram-perfect but dysfunctional with waterfall island and open shelving, the other understated but brilliantly functional with task lighting and proper storage — Same budget. Same footprint. Completely different priorities. One kitchen photographs well. The other one works.

I've walked through enough kitchen renovations—as a chef and as a broker—to recognize the pattern. Homeowner spends $90,000. Designer delivers a showroom. And six months later, the homeowner is still reaching into the back of a lower cabinet on their hands and knees looking for the Dutch oven because nobody thought about pull-out drawers.

Here's the problem: most kitchen renovations are designed for the listing photos, not for the human who has to cook Thanksgiving dinner in the damn thing.

Key Takeaways

Two-Sentence Summary

Most kitchen renovations chase resale value with granite and subway tile while ignoring the design choices that actually make cooking easier—and those functional fixes often cost less than the cosmetic theater. This guide separates the upgrades that earn their keep every single day from the expensive lies that look good in listings but fail in real life.

If You Only Remember 3 Things

Countertop material doesn't make you a better cook—counter location does. The 15 inches of landing space next to your range matters more than whether it's quartz or butcher block.
Storage you can reach beats storage that looks good. Pull-out drawers cost more than fixed shelves but pay dividends every single time you don't have to crawl on the floor to find a pot.
Lighting is the cheapest upgrade with the highest functional return. Under-cabinet LEDs and task lighting transform how you work—no one has ever said "this kitchen is amazing" because of the backsplash alone.

Quick Facts

Functional upgrades like task lighting and drawer storage typically cost 15-30% less than cosmetic statement pieces like waterfall islands
Proper range hood ventilation (600+ CFM) prevents long-term moisture damage that can cost $15,000-$40,000 to remediate in Vermont's humid climate
Landing space geometry (18 inches on either side of cooktop, 15 inches beside the sink) is dictated by the National Kitchen & Bath Association and affects daily usability more than any finish material

Why This Matters

Most kitchen renovations optimize for the wrong scorecard—resale value and Instagram aesthetics instead of daily function. The result: expensive choices that photograph beautifully but collapse under the demands of actual cooking. Buyers notice layout and light before they notice countertop material. Homeowners live with poor workflow every single day.

The renovation industrial complex wants you to believe that kitchen value lives in the material palette. Granite versus quartz. Shaker versus flat-panel. Subway tile versus zellige.

None of that matters if you can't fit a sheet pan on the counter next to the oven.

I've shown $800,000 homes with $120,000 kitchens that couldn't pass a basic workflow test. Gorgeous waterfall islands with nowhere to plug in a stand mixer. Six-burner ranges with 8 inches of counter space on one side and a wall on the other. Pendant lights that look incredible and cast shadows exactly where you're trying to chop onions.

Meanwhile, I've stood in 1970s kitchens with Formica counters and builder-grade cabinets where everything just worked. Because someone—probably the homeowner who actually cooked in it—prioritized task over trophy.

The Expensive Lies: Upgrades That Photograph Well But Work Poorly

Five renovation darlings that add cost without improving function: waterfall islands that sacrifice landing space, open shelving that demands curation over capacity, pro-style ranges that outpace actual cooking needs, vessel sinks that splash and fail, and wine fridges installed by default instead of intent. Each one looks great in the listing. None of them survives daily use without compromise.

Luxury kitchen with stunning waterfall marble island showing design flaws - no outlets, inadequate landing space next to cooktop, impractical bar-height seating, and shallow prep sink — $12,000 of book-matched marble. Zero electrical outlets. Eight inches of landing space next to a 36-inch cooktop. Beautiful and completely impractical.

Waterfall islands. Stunning. Expensive. And almost always designed to showcase the stone rather than facilitate the work. The vertical edge eats counter depth. The statement steals budget from things that matter—like making sure you have 36 inches of clearance on the working side or enough space to pull out a chair without blocking the dishwasher. Cost: $3,000-$12,000 depending on material. Functional return: zero.

Open shelving. The Instagram aesthetic that only works if you (a) own six plates, (b) never cook anything that splatters, and (c) enjoy dusting. Vermont kitchens manage preserving season, bulk staples, and gear that doesn't see daily use. Open shelving is beautiful because it forces minimalism. Minimalism doesn't survive August when you've got 40 pounds of tomatoes to process and nowhere to put the canning supplies. Cost: often cheaper to install. Hidden cost: the storage you'll have to add later when you realize you have nowhere to put anything.

Pro-style ranges. Unless you're actually cooking for 12 people on a Tuesday night, that 48-inch, six-burner Viking is cosplay. You'll use two burners 90% of the time. What you will notice: the BTU output that demands a makeup air system (add $2,000-$5,000), the commercial depth that eats into your workflow triangle, and the cleaning regimen that makes you nostalgic for sealed burners. Cost: $8,000-$15,000 for the range alone. Better move: a 30-inch range with one high-BTU burner and the other $8,000 spent on lighting, storage, and ventilation.

Vessel sinks. Gorgeous in the showroom. A nightmare in year two when the faucet can't reach the edges, every hand-washing session sprays the counter, and you realize you can't fit a stockpot under the spout. Cost: $400-$2,000. What works instead: a deep undermount that disappears visually and handles a full sheet pan.

Wine fridges as default. If you drink wine twice a month, you don't need a 46-bottle dual-zone climate-controlled monument to aspiration. You need a drawer. Or a shelf. Or nothing. Cost: $1,200-$4,000. Opportunity cost: the base cabinet with pull-outs that you actually needed.

The Quiet Winners: Upgrades That Make You Faster, Safer, Smarter

Seven functional improvements that earn their cost every single day: task lighting that eliminates shadows, landing space geometry that prevents burns and breaks, deep drawer storage that ends the cabinet crawl, proper ventilation that protects your investment, dedicated circuits that prevent breaker trips, correctly placed pot fillers, and resilient flooring that survives dropped cast iron. These are the upgrades nobody photographs and everyone uses.

Five functional kitchen upgrades shown in detail - LED under-cabinet task lighting, organized pull-out drawer with pots, proper counter landing space beside range, range hood with 600 CFM rating, and motion-sensor faucet over deep sink — The upgrades that don't make the magazine covers but improve your life 400 times a year: light where you work, storage you can access, space where you need it, ventilation that protects the structure, and a sink that fits the tools.

Task lighting. Under-cabinet LEDs, toe-kick lights, and pendant fixtures positioned over work zones, not over voids. This is the single cheapest upgrade with the highest daily return. You cannot dice an onion in a shadow. Cost: $400-$1,500 depending on quality and coverage. Value: every single time you cook after sunset, which in Vermont is 4:30 PM for four months of the year.

Landing space geometry. Not negotiable. Eighteen inches on either side of the cooktop. Fifteen inches beside the sink. Twelve inches beside the fridge. These aren't Instagram guidelines—they're the physics of not dropping a hot pan or a full pot on your foot. If your designer is arguing with these numbers, find a different designer. Cost: $0 if planned correctly. Cost if ignored: the $90,000 kitchen that doesn't work.

Drawer storage with full-extension glides. Fixed shelves in base cabinets are where pots go to die. You will never willingly crawl into a 24-inch-deep hole to retrieve a roasting pan. Drawers bring the back to the front. Cost: $150-$400 per drawer depending on size and hardware. ROI: measured in dignity and time saved per retrieval.

Ventilation that actually moves air. Your range hood needs to move at least 600 CFM if you have a gas range, 400 CFM minimum for electric. That's cubic feet per minute—the measure of how much smoke, grease, and moisture gets pulled out instead of settling on your cabinets and walls. In Vermont, where winter cooking happens in a sealed box, inadequate ventilation isn't just annoying. It's structural rot waiting to happen. Cost: $800-$3,000 for a hood that works. Cost of ignoring it: $15,000-$40,000 in moisture remediation five years later.

Dedicated 20-amp circuits. One for the microwave. One for the countertop appliances (mixer, blender, toaster). Your renovation electrician will know this. Your designer might not ask. If you're running a stand mixer and a kettle at the same time and tripping breakers, you skipped this. Cost: $250-$500 per circuit during renovation. Cost after the fact: $800-$1,500 plus drywall repair.

Pot filler—placed correctly. This isn't about luxury. It's about not carrying 16 pounds of water and pasta pot across the kitchen. But only if it's within arm's reach of the range and you have landing space below it. A pot filler over an island cooktop with no counter space is performance art, not infrastructure. Cost: $400-$1,200 installed. Worth it: only if the geometry supports it.

Flooring with resilience. Cork, luxury vinyl plank, or engineered hardwood with a real wear layer. Ceramic tile is beautiful and unforgiving—drop a wine glass and it's over. Drop a cast-iron skillet on tile and you've got a cracked tile and a damaged pan. Vermont floors also contend with snow melt, mud season, and the grit that comes in on boots. Cost: $6-$15 per square foot installed depending on material. The test: what happens when you drop something heavy.

The Middle Ground: Upgrades That Do Both (If You Spec Them Right)

Three renovation choices that deliver both function and visual appeal—but only with chef-level planning: islands with proper dimensional discipline, double ovens for households that actually bake, and pantry buildouts that prioritize volume over aesthetics. The difference between success and expensive regret is in the details that most designers skip.

Islands. They work if you follow the rules. Four feet of length minimum (preferably five). Fifteen inches of overhang if you want seating. Thirty-six to forty-two inches of clearance on all working sides. Electrical outlets on the ends or pop-ups in the surface, not hidden underneath where you'll never use them. An island that ignores these specs is just an expensive obstacle. Cost: $3,000-$15,000 depending on size, material, and features. Functional return: high, but only if the geometry is right.

Double ovens. If you bake bread, roast vegetables, and need to run two different temperatures simultaneously—or if Thanksgiving involves more than one oven-based dish—this is defensible. If you're buying it because it "looks professional," you're spending $4,000-$8,000 on something you'll use twice a year. The test: how many times in the last three months did you wish you had a second oven? If the answer is zero, you don't need one.

Pantry buildouts. A floor-to-ceiling cabinet with pull-out shelves or a walk-in pantry with adjustable wire racks will change your life. But only if you prioritize depth, adjustability, and capacity over looking tidy. A "butler's pantry" with glass-front cabinets and decorative tile is for people who don't cook. A working pantry has closed doors, deep shelves, and room for a 25-pound bag of flour. Cost: $2,000-$8,000 depending on configuration. ROI: every time you don't have to drive to the store because you actually have space to stock staples.

Vermont Context: What Cold, Mud, and Maple Season Do to Your Choices

Three Vermont-specific realities that change the renovation math: closed storage beats open shelving in a climate with real humidity and pest pressure, heating integration matters when kitchens are cold voids or overheated saunas, and the kitchen-mudroom threshold determines whether your floors survive winter. Design for the place you actually live, not the place in the magazine.

Well-organized Vermont kitchen pantry with deep shelves loaded with Ball jars of preserves, bins of root vegetables, bulk dry goods in airtight containers, and closed cabinet doors — This is what Vermont food infrastructure looks like in August. Closed storage. Serious capacity. Room for 40 quarts of tomato sauce and the 50-pound bag of flour you bought at Costco in October.

Closed storage isn't optional. Vermont has humidity. And moths. And field mice that would very much like to winter in your open-shelf pantry with the artfully arranged jars of lentils. If you cook from the garden, preserve, or buy in bulk, you need closed cabinets with actual capacity. Open shelving works in Los Angeles. It's a liability here.

Heating integration. If your kitchen is an addition or bump-out, make sure the HVAC plan accounts for it. I've seen $100,000 kitchens that are 58 degrees in January because the designer focused on the pendant lights and forgot to add a heating zone. Radiant floor heat is glorious. Forced air works if the ducts are properly sized and placed. Either way, verify the plan before the walls close up.

Mudroom threshold. Vermont kitchens need a hard boundary between "outside dirt" and "cooking space." Whether that's a dedicated mudroom, a tiled entry zone, or a boot bench with a drain tray, plan for the transition. Your beautiful hardwood floors will thank you. Cost: $500-$3,000 depending on scope. Value: the floor you don't have to replace in five years.

The Renovation Hierarchy: How to Spend $30K vs. $80K vs. $150K

Budget tiers with functional priorities at each level: $30K fixes workflow and appliances, $80K adds quality materials and custom storage, $150K buys space reconfiguration and premium everything. At every level, the rule is the same—invest in the invisible systems first, the visible finishes last. Skip the upgrades you won't use weekly. Never cheap out on ventilation, lighting, or structural work.

$30,000 budget: Paint cabinets or reface them. Replace countertops with quartz or butcher block (skip the exotic stuff). Upgrade to a good range hood (600 CFM minimum). Add under-cabinet LED lighting. Replace the sink and faucet with workhorses (undermount sink, pull-down faucet). Install pull-out shelves in existing base cabinets. One good appliance upgrade—either the range or the refrigerator, whichever is failing. This budget doesn't buy you a showroom. It buys you a kitchen that works better than it did.

$80,000 budget: Everything above, plus new cabinets (not custom, but quality stock with soft-close hardware). Rework the layout if the footprint allows (add an island, improve the triangle, fix the landing space problems). Upgrade both the range and refrigerator. Add a pantry if you don't have one. Invest in real task lighting—not just under-cabinet strips, but strategically placed pendants and recessed cans. Solid flooring—engineered hardwood or luxury vinyl plank that'll last 20 years. At this level, you can have some visual personality (tile backsplash, cabinet details), but function still leads.

$150,000+ budget: Now you're buying space and systems. Move walls if the flow is broken. Add square footage if the kitchen is too small. Custom cabinetry with drawer organizers, pull-out spice racks, and appliance garages. Premium appliances across the board—but spec'd for how you actually cook, not for the brand badge. A proper pantry—walk-in if space allows. Stone counters if you want them (but seriously consider butcher block for work zones). High-end lighting design with dimmers and zones. And you still prioritize ventilation, electrical, and storage before you prioritize the statement tile.

What to never cheap out on: Ventilation, electrical, plumbing rough-in, structural work, and cabinet hardware (soft-close hinges and full-extension glides). These are the bones. If the bones are wrong, the skin doesn't matter.

What to defer: Exotic tile, high-end appliance packages you won't use, furniture-quality cabinetry in a basement or rental.

What to skip entirely: Anything you can't name a weekly use case for. If the answer to "when will I use this?" is "when we entertain," and you entertain twice a year, strike it from the budget.

Bottom Line: The 3-Question Test Before You Sign Anything

If your designer, contractor, or architect can't answer these three questions with specifics, walk away: Does this make a particular task easier, and which one? Will I use this weekly or just show it off once? What's the Vermont failure mode—cold, humidity, rodents, dust, or something else? Function earns its cost every day. Theater earns it never.

Question 1: Does this make a specific task easier? Which one? If the answer is vague ("it'll make the kitchen feel more open") or aesthetic ("it's a stunning focal point"), it's not a functional upgrade. Push for specifics. "This adds 18 inches of landing space next to the range so you're not balancing a hot pan on the corner of the sink" is a real answer.

Question 2: Will I use this weekly, or just show it off once? Pot filler you'll use weekly if you make pasta, stock, or soup regularly. Wine fridge you'll show off when guests visit twice a year. Be honest about the cadence. Weekly use justifies cost. Annual use does not.

Question 3: What's the Vermont failure mode? Open shelving fails in humidity and dust. Inadequate ventilation fails in moisture damage. Poor heating design fails in frozen pipes. Exotic tile fails when you drop a cast-iron pan. If your designer can't name the climate-specific risk and the mitigation strategy, they're not designing for Vermont. They're designing for a magazine.

Planning a Kitchen Renovation—Or Evaluating One?

I've walked through hundreds of Central Vermont kitchens as a chef and as a broker. I know what works, what fails, what costs too much, and what pays back. Whether you're planning a remodel or trying to figure out if the kitchen in that listing is worth the asking price, let's talk.

Contact Tony Walton
Principal Broker, New England Landmark Realty
Cell: (802) 233-4107
Office: (802) 253-4711 or (866) 324-2427
www.nelandmark.com

Helpful Resources:
Vermont Home Buying Guide | Selling Your Vermont Home

Where to Go Next

Vermont Home Buying Guide – What to look for when evaluating kitchens during your home search
Selling Your Vermont Home – Which kitchen upgrades pay back and which ones don't
Central Vermont Market Reports – Current data on pricing and inventory in Washington, Lamoille, and Chittenden Counties
National Kitchen & Bath Association Planning Guidelines – The geometry and clearance standards every functional kitchen must meet

Posted in Design Build

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Feb. 22, 2026

39 Million Homeowners Locked Below 5%—What Vermont Sellers Need to Know

By The Numbers Guy | February 5, 2026

Thirty-nine million U.S. homeowners still hold mortgage rates below 5%, and only 6% gave up those rates in 2025—but Vermont home prices rose 5.8% last year to a median of $385,000, meaning sellers sitting on low rates are also sitting on significant equity gains. If you're a Vermont homeowner weighing whether to sell now or wait for rates to drop further, the math suggests that waiting may cost you more than moving does.

If You Only Do 3 Things

Calculate your equity gain: If you bought before 2022, your Vermont home likely appreciated 15–25% or more—run the numbers on what you'd net after sale.
Model your next purchase payment at 6%: A 6% rate isn't 3%, but it's workable if your equity covers a larger down payment or the home you actually want.
Get a professional market analysis: Early 2026 sellers have negotiating power before competition ramps up—but that advantage shrinks as more sellers test the market in March–April.

Vermont home with For Sale sign in late winter with mountains in background during golden hour — Early 2026 sellers have a window—but it won't stay open forever.

What Changed (and the One Number That Matters)

Direct Answer: Thirty-nine million U.S. homeowners still hold mortgage rates below 5%, and last year only 6% of them gave up those rates to sell or refinance (ICE Mortgage Technology, February 2026). In Vermont, that lock-in effect is colliding with a 5.8% year-over-year price increase—meaning your low rate is valuable, but so is the equity you've built. The trade-off: hold the rate and stay put, or sell now and use your gains to buy what you actually need at 6%.

Let's run the numbers.

If you locked in a rate below 4% anytime between 2020 and early 2022, that rate feels like a golden handcuff. You're not wrong. Math doesn't care about feelings, but it does care about opportunity cost.

Here's what the data tells us: CNBC reported this week that roughly 39 million homeowners nationwide are sitting on rates below 5%. Another 12 million are below 3%. Last year, only about 6% of those folks sold or pulled cash out. Translation: 94% stayed put.

In Vermont, that same psychology is playing out—but with a wrinkle. While the rest of the country saw modest or flat appreciation, Vermont's median sale price hit approximately $385,000 by year-end 2025, up 5.8% from 2024. If you bought in Central Vermont in 2020 for $300,000, you're likely sitting on $385,000 to $400,000+ in value today. That's real money.

The Data (What the Numbers Actually Say)

Direct Answer: Three numbers define the decision: 39 million homeowners below 5% (the lock-in cohort), a Vermont median price of $385,000 (up 5.8%), and a current 30-year mortgage rate around 6.10%. For a Vermont seller who bought at $300,000 in 2020 with a 3.5% rate, selling now and buying a $450,000 home at 6% with $100,000 down (from equity) yields a monthly payment around $2,098—higher than the old $1,347, but you're in the home you want, not the home you settled for.

Infographic showing 39 million homeowners below 5 percent mortgage rates, only 6 percent sold in 2025, Vermont median price 385K — The lock-in effect is real—but so is Vermont's equity surge.

Here are the three numbers that matter:

1. Thirty-nine million homeowners hold rates below 5%. That's the national baseline. According to ICE Mortgage Technology and reported by CNBC on February 4, 2026, this cohort represents the vast majority of homeowners who refinanced or bought during the 2020–2021 rate environment. They're not moving unless forced.

2. Vermont's median sale price is approximately $385,000, up 5.8% year-over-year. That's from year-end 2025 data compiled by Vermont brokerages including Catalyst Realty. In Central Vermont specifically, some towns are seeing medians closer to $400,000 or higher. If you bought before the surge, you've captured that gain—but only on paper until you sell.

3. The current 30-year fixed mortgage rate is around 6.10%. As of late January 2026, Freddie Mac's Primary Mortgage Market Survey pegged the average 30-year fixed rate at 6.10%, down from over 7% a year ago. That's not 3.5%, but it's also not 8%. It's workable—especially if you're bringing $80,000 to $120,000 in equity to the table.

Translation: If you're sitting on a $300,000 home you bought in 2020 at 3.5%, your monthly principal and interest payment is roughly $1,347. If you sell that home today for $385,000, net $100,000 after costs, and buy a $450,000 home at 6% with 20% down ($90,000), your new payment is approximately $2,098. That's $751 more per month.

But here's the question nobody's asking: Is the $300,000 home still the home you want? Or are you staying because the rate feels too good to give up?

So What Does That Mean for Vermont?

Direct Answer: Vermont's inventory rose 11.7% in late 2025 as more sellers tested the market, but transaction velocity remains slow because most buyers are also locked-in sellers who haven't made the leap yet. If you sell in early 2026—before spring competition peaks—you'll face fewer competing listings and can negotiate from strength. Wait until April or May, and you're swimming in a more crowded pool. The math favors moving now if the equity allows you to buy what you need, not just what you can afford.

Vermont homeowner sitting at kitchen table with calculator and mortgage paperwork, contemplating selling decision — The decision isn't about the rate—it's about the home.

Vermont operates on its own rhythm. Inventory traditionally drops in winter, then surges in March and April as sellers prep for the spring market. In 2025, inventory rose 11.7% by November—a sign that more homeowners were willing to test the waters. But sales velocity stayed slow. Why?

Because the buyers are also sellers. They're locked in at 3.5% or 4.25%, and they're doing the same math you are. The breakthrough happens when someone says, "I'm leaving money on the table by staying in a home I've outgrown."

Here's the Vermont-specific angle: If you list in February or early March 2026, you're ahead of the spring rush. Buyers who are serious right now aren't window-shopping—they're committed. You'll face less competition from other sellers, and you can price strategically without getting undercut by ten other listings in your zip code.

Wait until late April, and you're one of forty listings in a five-town radius. The advantage evaporates.

The other factor: Vermont's equity gains are sticking. Unlike some sunbelt markets where prices spiked then corrected, Vermont's appreciation has been steady and supported by real demand—remote workers, second-home buyers, and retirees who want land and access to outdoor life. That demand isn't reversing. Your equity is real.

Bottom Line (The Gain Frame)

Direct Answer: Holding a 3.5% rate on a home you've outgrown isn't financial discipline—it's inertia. If your Vermont home has gained $80,000+ in equity and you can use that to buy the home you actually want at 6%, the higher rate is the cost of getting your life unstuck. Run the numbers with a professional, model the payment, and decide whether you're staying for the right reasons or just because the rate feels too good to lose.

That 3.5% rate isn't a golden ticket. It's a sunk cost.

If the home still works—if the bedrooms fit your family, if the commute makes sense, if the town is where you want to be—then by all means, hold the rate. But if you're staying because you can't stomach giving up 3.5%, you're making a $750-per-month decision that's costing you quality of life.

Here's the play if you're a Vermont seller:

Step 1: Calculate your net proceeds. Take your current estimated home value (use Zillow, Redfin, or get a professional comparative market analysis). Subtract 6–8% for closing costs and commission. That's your equity war chest.

Step 2: Model your next purchase at 6%. Find the home you want. Run the mortgage payment at 6.10% with your equity as the down payment. If the payment is workable, you've just bought permission to move.

Step 3: List before the spring surge. February and early March sellers in Central Vermont have leverage. Use it.

The math won't get dramatically better if you wait. Rates may drop another quarter-point by summer—maybe. But Vermont inventory will definitely rise, and your negotiating position will definitely weaken. The window is open now. It won't stay open.

What to Do Next

If you're a Vermont homeowner sitting on equity and a low rate, the first step is to stop guessing and start calculating. A professional comparative market analysis can show you what your home is worth today—not what Zillow thinks, but what buyers in your town are actually paying.

From there, model the next move. What does a 6% payment look like on the home you want? What's the monthly cost of staying versus moving? Most importantly: What's the cost of staying in a home that no longer fits?

The 39 million homeowners locked below 5% aren't all making the wrong choice. But some of them are staying for the wrong reasons. Don't be one of them.

Contact New England Landmark Realty:
Office: (802) 253-4711 or (866) 324-2427
Tony's Cell: (802) 233-4107
Website: www.nelandmark.com
Vermont Home Buying Guide | Selling Your Vermont Home

Where to Go Next

Sources

Posted in Numbers Guy

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Feb. 20, 2026

2074 Winter Olympics Snow Crisis: Vermont vs Western Resorts

Classic Rock & Fresh Powder

Where Will the Snow Be in 2074?

Vermont's Climate Advantage Over Western Ski Resorts

February 12, 2026

Milano-Cortina 2026 Olympics artificial snow operations compared to Vermont natural snowfall climate reliability comparison for ski real estate investors

The Opening Riff: Italy's €22 Million Snow Job

The 2026 Winter Olympics in Milano-Cortina opened with a spectacle the world hasn't quite seen before: 2.4 million cubic meters of artificial snow—enough to cover 960 football fields three feet deep—manufactured using 250 million gallons of water. That's the daily drinking supply for 900 million people.

The equipment cost? €22 million. The annual snowmaking budget for Italian Alps resorts? €50 to €100 million, representing 30 to 40 percent of their total energy costs.

Let that sink in. The birthplace of alpine skiing—the Dolomites, Cortina d'Ampezzo, the Italian Alps—cannot host the Winter Olympics without industrial fake snow.

Meanwhile, Cortina property values climbed 10 percent annually in the run-up to the Games, according to the Knight Frank Alpine Report. Those gains came with hidden infrastructure: €50 million in annual snowmaking costs just to keep the slopes white. By 2050, when temperatures rise another 2°C and the snow stops falling even with €100 million budgets, what happens to those €2 million chalets?

The Olympics have become a snow casino. And the house always wins—until it doesn't.

Satirical Developer's Playbook showing the unsustainable cycle of Olympic winter sports hosting and artificial snowmaking investments

Bring It Home: The US Snow Crisis Is Here

While Europe makes headlines, the American West is quietly unraveling.

Vail Resorts—the largest ski resort operator in North America—reported in January that snowfall in the Rockies was 60 percent below the 30-year average for November and December 2025. Vail Mountain recorded its worst snowpack in 47 years: just 4.4 inches of snow-water equivalent. Only 11 percent of terrain was open as of January 4, 2026. The company cut its 2026 earnings outlook and used the phrase "historically low early-season snowfall" three times in the press release.

Park City hit a 30-year record low for snowpack in January 2026.

Palisades Tahoe—after logging a record 723 inches in the 2022-23 season—is tracking 50 percent below normal for 2025-26.

Here's what five years of snowfall data looks like when you stop believing the marketing brochures:

Five-year snowfall comparison 2021-2026 showing Western US ski resorts declining while Vermont maintains consistent natural snow totals

The pattern is clear. The West had one epic year in 2022-23—record-breaking snow that made everyone forget the drought years before it. Then two mediocre years. Then a crisis year in 2025-26.

Vermont? No boom. No bust. Just snow. Every 72 hours, like clockwork, driven by lake-effect systems off the Great Lakes that don't care about El Niño, La Niña, or shareholder earnings calls.

Jay Peak logged 257 inches by early February. Stowe has 218 inches. Killington is tracking toward ~320 inches for the season. Boring. Predictable. Bankable.

The 2074 Winter Olympics: Where Will They Be?

If current trends hold, the 2074 Winter Olympics will have exactly four options: Niseko (Japan), Terskol (Russia), Val d'Isère (France), and Courchevel (France).

Notice what's missing? The entire United States.

Not Vail. Not Aspen. Not Park City. Not Jackson Hole. None of them will have reliable natural snow by mid-century, according to projections from Climate Central and a 2024 study published in Nature Climate Change.

Of the 93 cities with Olympic-level winter sports infrastructure, 94 percent are "climate reliable" today. That number drops to 44 percent by the 2080s. The Rockies won't make the cut.

Vermont won't host the Olympics either—we don't have the infrastructure, the hotels, or the half-pipes. But we'll have something better: snow. And when you're a second-home buyer in 2026 looking at a 30-year hold, "boring and reliable" suddenly sounds like the best investment thesis on the mountain.

Follow the Money: The 30-Year Real Estate Math

Let's compare two buyers in 2026 making 30-year holds:

30-year financial comparison Aspen ski condo versus Stowe Vermont showing 1.6 million dollar savings and lower climate risk

Buyer A: Aspen 2-Bed Condo

Purchase price: $2.2M
Annual HOA dues: $18,000 ($540,000 over 30 years)
Insurance premium trend: +12% YoY (climate risk)
Rental income (2025-26): Down 40% (shorter season, fewer bookings)
2050 resale risk: High (potential 30% depreciation if snowfall continues declining)

Buyer B: Stowe 2-Bed Condo

Purchase price: $875K
Annual HOA dues: $8,500 ($255,000 over 30 years)
Insurance premium trend: +4% YoY
Rental income (2025-26): Stable (218" season total, predictable bookings)
2050 resale risk: Low (climate models show Vermont stable through mid-century)

Net difference over 30 years:

Aspen: $1.325M more upfront + $285K more in HOA dues + unknown climate depreciation
Stowe: Lower entry, lower carry cost, climate hedge built in

Total savings: ~$1.6 million, plus you actually get to ski.

You're not buying Vermont because you can't afford Aspen. You're buying Vermont because Aspen won't have snow.

This Week's Tracks

🎸 Classic Rock & Fresh Powder Playlist (on Spotify)

Public Enemy – "Don't Believe the Hype"
(Aspen marketing vs. 67 inches of snow)
Bob Dylan – "The Times They Are A-Changin'"
(Climate isn't negotiable)
Neil Young – "Mother Earth (Natural Anthem)"
(Lake-effect snow doesn't need a press release)
The Clash – "Should I Stay or Should I Go"
(Tahoe vs. Vermont)
R.E.M. – "It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)"
(Vermont's fine)

Posted in Luxury and Vacation Homes

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Feb. 20, 2026

The Anatomy of a Con: What a Tuesday Morning Scam Attempt Reveals About Real Estate Fraud in 2026

Pattern Recognition, Digital Predators, and Why FSBO Sellers Are Sitting Ducks

By Tony Walton, New England Landmark Realty | February 2, 2026

Jump to Key Takeaways ↓

Hi,

That's what the email said. Not "Hi Tony." Just "Hi."

And that's where I stopped chewing my bagel.

The Setup

Tuesday morning. Standard inbox chaos. Then this:

"I came across your profile on Zillow and I'm interested in purchasing a property in Vermont. I'll be relocating soon, so I'm ideally looking for something move-in ready."

Polite. Professional. Generic.

No name. No town. No budget. No timeline. Just vague interest that could have been sent to 500 agents across six states. Which it probably was.

The first tell? My name wasn't used.

If you found me on Zillow—where my name, photo, brokerage, and phone number are visible—you'd use it. Real people personalize. Scammers template.

Then came the pivot:

"We would like to discuss this on Zoom... my husband is not currently with me and is in military camp. Zoom would work best so we can both join the call together."

Perfect. Let me decode:

Military spouse = instant credibility + sympathy
Husband unavailable = explains vagueness and delays
Zoom preference = avoids in-person verification
Future tense = "would like to discuss" is a probe, not a commitment

This isn't how real buyers communicate. This is social engineering.

Key Takeaways