Years ago, I had a close encounter with a big antlered buck, or male white-tailed deer, that I will never forget.
A greenway with historic bridges and an island park, community connections to businesses, social services, recreational trails, and revitalization of downtown Brattleboro, Vermont: these are among the many benefits associated with a long-anticipated new bridge at the Connecticut River Route 119 crossing between Brattleboro and Hinsdale, New Hampshire.
Queen of Wall Street, Witch of Wall Street. Whichever sobriquet you use, Henrietta (Hetty) Howland Robinson Green was one of the richest Americans—ever.
Spattered with glacial detritus, it is an area of rocky dells and ridges, cut by Roaring Brook as it tumbles down toward Whalebone Cove on the Connecticut River. Red Oaks and White Pines march up the hill, with patches of hornbeams and black birch.
The Connecticut River cradles the city of Middletown (f. 1653) at a modest bend in its course, a place originally called Mattabesset, Algonquin for “end of the carrying place.”
Beyond a small café and an administrative building, four banners hang from the welcome hall portico: the Cat in the Hat, an Indian Motorcycle, a T-Rex, and a 19th century painting of a young girl by William-Adolphe Bouguereau.
Formed by ancient volcanoes some 200 million years ago, Mount Tom’s summit ridge is one of the most unique and spectacular natural areas of western Massachusetts.
Though it is only ten thousand years old, a river like this always seems eternal. After all, it flows on and on, apparently able to swallow all our human wrongs and carry them away.
But from the first few dreamy days of April on well into May, where better to discover springtime than in one’s own patch of cozy, quaint New England woods?
It seemed like just another spring day when we stopped at the Salmon River, a tidewater tributary of the Connecticut River that splits the towns of Haddam and East Haddam, Connecticut.
Streamside walking connects us with the splendors of flowing water on our Water Planet.
“For the first time in history, gardens have taken
on a role that transcends the gardener.”
My father operated a farm in Maryland in 1944 and planted five acres of string beans, all to go toward the war effort.
Yum yum summertime…and what better way to celebrate than to have a barbeque! Our choices are diverse, but let’s focus on what’s fresh and readily available at this time of the year. What comes to mind? … Corn and tomatoes, which can be prepared with a minimum of fuss…and what a delight to the eyes as well.
I put my hand out in front of me like I’m offering to shake and say: “How do you do, sir. I’m called JJ, just like my father, and his father, and his father before him. We’re all ferrymen here in Old Saybrook, and we’re all called JJ.”