Old Home Days
The torrential rains and accompanying thunder and spectacular lightning showers over the last few weeks have been like operas. Scene changes. Drama. The rap-tap-tap of the rain drops on the roof, the swoosh of the water pouring down through the drainpipe along the edge of the windows, the stream rising up from the earth.
The rain so thick, the dark was clotted by it.
Passage through it, constricted in the waters,
Made tumid by it, blinded by me. …
Swans in the Dark, Ned O’Gorman
I always seek shelter in a place where I can watch the storm. There is little that can compare to sinking into a chair with a good book on your lap and then being completely distracted by the storm. Watching the sky as it turns from black to blue. Hoping you might see a rainbow. The return of puffy clouds. The cardinal reappears. The chickadees began chirping. A chipmunk scampers out from under the porch and then quickly retreats, just checking the weather it seems.
On a lovely New Hampshire Saturday, there is the temptation to take a drive, with all the windows rolled down, to find a café for lunch. This summer I have been exploring the Monadnock Region of New Hampshire. Visiting the small towns and hamlets that comprise Chesire and Hillsborough Counties.
Many of the towns are situated on a river and were thriving mill town. Now they are attracting artists. As they have in the past. Willa Cather, the author of My Antonio is buried in Jaffrey. She first visited in 1917 to stay with friends and found it a place that was conducive to writing. She spent a few summers before she acquired a cottage on Gran Manan Island in Canada. Her gravestone is located in the Burying Ground, behind the Jaffrey Center Meeting House near clusters of rhododendron bushes. Her headstone reads
WILLA CATHER
December 7, 1873–April 24, 1947
THE TRUTH AND CHARITY OF HER GREAT
SPIRIT WILL LIVE ON IN THE WORK
WHICH IS HER ENDURING GIFT TO HER
COUNTRY AND ALL ITS PEOPLE.
” … that is happiness; to be dissolved
into something complete and great.”
From My Antonia
Now the mill buildings in Jaffrey have been converted to lovely apartments with balconies and an adjacent park.
Driving into Harrisville is like entering a movie set. The mill buildings have been gently restored to preserve the historic 19th century look and feel. The town center is now a vibrant arts and farming community. The Harrisville Country Store, just in the center of town with a view across the landscape, is the perfect place to stop for lunch. The homemade sandwiches are worth a return visit or two. Seasonal I believe.
During August many of the towns celebrate their heritage with Old Home Days. What fun to stand on a sidewalk and watch homemade floats, a man balancing on a unicycle and domesticated goats marching through the town center, followed by vintage fire trucks. In the afternoon music fills the air mingling with the smell of bar-be-queuing chicken. Often there are fireworks. One has the sense of stepping back into America, circa 1950.
At the end of the day it’s home for dinner. During this harvest season, sweet beets and greens, grilled red onion and peppers, sweet corn, luscious tomatoes and grilled hamburgers, often followed with a peach or blueberry pie.
Last week as we cleared the table, cleaned the grill and carried the cushions in from the porch I noticed a small red leaf on the ground. The season of butterflies, daisies, Queen Anne’s Lace and geraniums is beginning a slow shift into autumn.