We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
The road out to our village in the Berkshires. It is indeed over the river and through the woods. Woods, fields, and swamps:
View from the upper barn. Trout stream down there in the valley. Those are our woods up on the hills too - insofar as anybody can "own" woods. The hawks, owls, deer and and bears own them, really. Well, God owns them, but I can harvest firewood there. You can see the White Pine infestation in the upper meadow. We have been at 'em, but it's a lot of work to cut them down. It's a shame that you cannot really burn White Pine in the fireplace. Too much resin, burns too hot.
This is downtown: a Congo Church, the old one-room schoolhouse, around 10 nice antique houses, and a fork in the road. When you come to a fork in the road, take it.
Nice old house in town:
Down our driveway:
Up our driveway:
Barn needs paint - and more - badly. Plumbing works, tho -
Lovely. Quite genteel, however. Where's the livestock, and how do you keep the meth lab hidden from the neighbors? They ought to be used to seeing at least a rusting hay wagon or drill planter tucked away in the brush so they don't especially notice anything, and you don't have to post the property or set out Claymores or anything.
These photos were the perfect antidote to a stressful day in the office. For the 100th time, I thought to myself that yes, Maggie's is always the most interesting, eclectic toy box to root around in. One always finds something enticing. Thank you again!
Looks like a nice area. Any need for a poor but honest lawyer in that neck of the woods? Am gettting tired of everything collapsing around here, and am willing to work for a couple chickens in the pot and a pint of maple syrup now and again. Throw in a good church and it would be perfect.
"Throw in a good church" alone is enough. Hard to find. Nobody wants to work for them & feed them. Mine's fed, and growing. Doubled in size the last two years. My former one - liberal Episcopalian - is dying, fading away. Just like our (Maggie's, really) farm. Ya gotta tend to the crops, and the farmer (or priest) can't do it alone. Bless ya, Jim, and good luck.
Gwynne--I'm fortunate that I also belong to a really wonderful and grace-filled church. It's what has kept my life going, on so many levels, and most of my spare time is spent helping out there. At one time my life was a total mess (although I was outwardly successful from the world's standpoint), and it was this church and the wonderful people in it that got my life back on track.
Thanks for reminding me that the wordly stuff, in the end, isn't what's important. As Jonathan Edwards once said, "To go to heaven, fully to enjoy God, is infinitely better than the most pleasant accommodations here."
Beautiful. That right there, is the essence of New England/North East living.
I miss the old homestead and the history of the East Coast. Out West there's nothing. Sure scenic views, but there's no human soul to the landscape. One needs fieldstone walls. Antique farmhouses and Churches. Tree Choked lanes and quaint, friendly towns.
The West lacks the tangible manifestation of one's history upon/reflected in the landscape.
You can never go home...but I can't seem to stop wishing I might.