Chronicles Continued

The sounds coming from around and out of the church up the hill made it clear that the parade was not going to begin at 12 noon.  The heat was increasing so we got out of the car to stand beside it.  As we stood there we were joined by the two friends who had originally suggested we should attend this.  As we four stood to chat,  two men approached us to greet this couple standing with us.  This newcomers also had a dog.   As we were all introduced, they said they were ‘Weekenders’. Their house was designed by our friend who is an architect by profession.  This became the subject of discussion.  The house was down the road behind us, on a hill. Across the street from their house was an original Sears house, more friends of theirs.  They had made a small community.  As we asked questions, one of the men, invited us to come see their house, at the conclusion of the parade.  The spontaneity of the invite was surprising. and we immediately said yes.  We watched the parade as described in the other posting.  We drove to the house. It was as unique as they had described. Two City couples., one of which was the couple who had invited us. had decided to build one house to share.  The community room of kitchen, living and dining were on the upper level.  The lower level where the entrance was, had two bedroom divided by two bathrooms.  Both couples could be in residence, or not but there was plenty of space to be out of each other’s way.  It was pushed against a steep hill.  The views from the large plate-glass windows and the deck were of the river far below.  Spritzers were made , handed out and we sat to talk.  Here in this unknown hamlet were City professionals.  One has a PhD in Shakespeare, the other a Dr of Psychiatry.  The chance that our paths would have crossed in the City were nonexistent, but here we were on our way to a friendship

The man was no doubt in his 60’s and his golden labrador puppy less than a year.  He wore his years and experiences on his face and his body, including an eighth-month-preggers-beer-belly.  He stopped by our car’s open window and began to chat.  Said he had lived here 43 years and was now trying to sell his property via Craig’s List. [That surprised me, given his age as a means for selling.]  He was, he said, dumbfounded by the dumb clucks that showed up to view it.  They asked him if he would rent it to them, maybe sell it, but better yet, give it them.  “What’ s wrong with them”, he asks. With no wife or kids, he lives half the year in Florida and would like to make that year around.  He cheerfully answered questions about the Hamlet. “It was thriving when the train from the City was in operation.”  He pointed out the decrepit train station hut,  ‘They would get off the train and walk to the hotels.  That one there, [he points to the house/hotel] has a ballroom on the third floor.  It was quite the times.  But then the train dried up and the hamlet shriveled.  There are now maybe 42;  in 1895 there were 400.”

He says it all so matter of fact.

 

Although it is long past, a review of the 4th of July parade that took place in a small nearby hamlet is not to be forgotten. [was meant for 12 July posting.]  This parade had been recommended with the warning, ‘Don’t be 5 minutes late, you’ll miss it’.  We drove to the hamlet down a tree covered single lane road.  Along this road is a pond and a remarkable well-preserved covered bridge.  The parade was scheduled for 12 so at 11:45 we parked at the corner of the T-crossing between the river and the church.  This is one of those places that must be seen to be believed. The church sits on the crest of the hill next to the road that leads to the crossroads in the center.  At the cross roads is an old hotel, complete with ballroom on the 3rd floor that is now functioning in some fashion as a house.  The nearly black painted siding on an old house across the street to the left of this former traveller’s respite has a garland of much used aluminum pots hanging on a rope above the porch railing. The front yard is a gaggle of whatever has chosen to plant itself there with a hand-lettered sign declaring it the ‘local flower museum’.  Across the street, directly in front the now house/hotel is another empty grand hotel with a tree cluttered yard.  This former hotel is backed up to the most beautiful bend in a wide, lazily flowing river.  Apparently there was once a small active community here organized by a wealthy man who built the tiny train station for the train coming from the City on tracks running along the river’s edge.  This minuscule station was at the end of the road coming down from the church, stopping at the water’s edge.  He had built a mansion of sorts for himself and his family and a smaller residence next door for his mistress.  Across the street from his house [at the T in the center] is a restored Victorian perched on a hill.  It is here we park to wait for the parade to begin.  For unexplained reasons, the procession begins with a service in the church.  At service’s end, all 11 participants make their way down the road, direction the river.  There is an antique truck with attached flags waving in the slight breeze, a family with a dog on a leash, an older woman, a younger woman, a man driving a contraption and a couple of folks weaving in and out around it.  There is much cheering and loud radio music playing from the sidelines [Did the service involve weed?} Indeed, it happens so quickly that if you blinked, you missed it.  At the rivers age, it all stops and a few minutes later the participants meander back up the road to meet their friends.

addendum

This is a more recent photo of hotel at river’s edge.  Unknown why all the trees have been chopped down.

One of the nearby villages had its first annual talent show on Saturday evening.  To take the stage and face your neighbors you have to be 1. fearless  2. confident 3. good at your talent 4. delusional  5. brave  6. a brash young teen  7. an inventor of your history.  This list pretty much covers the back story of  the ten competitors of the talent contest.  it was two hours some of which passed in a whizz and some of which one thought would never end.  It is the never-end-ones that stay in the mind the longest.  Each participant wrote their own intro and there was one outstanding fib that took the cake.  [Cake was also served at intermission.]  The theatre was full, the youngest audience member could not have been more than 2 weeks old and the oldest was most likely mid-eighties.  In the end, a good time was had by all.

Sent by astute reader A and this is good information for anyone…

http://www.lonelyplanet.com/news/2016/09/05/central-park-lampposts-secret-code/

each ornate lamppost has a unique number inscribed on the base of the pole that actually acts as a navigational tool for travellers and locals alike looking to find out where exactly in the park they are. The first two or three numbers in the code specify the closest cross street, while the last number indicates what side of town is nearby. Even numbers mean east side while odd numbers mean west side.

this ‘draft post’ got left behind but it is too good to let it die.

 

The location for this movie was ungraciously jury-rigged together between a deserted boys camp and some other unseemly and unlikely place.  Where the producers really wanted to be was at Scott’s on a small lake nearby here.  When Scouters approached the owners all those years ago, to use their site for a small indie film, the owners said they were unable to comply with the request because the time of the filming would impact their regulars who come every year to spend time at this rustic resort.  Scott’s is exactly as they tried to depict in the film.  The fun news is that during the summer, there are Saturday night dances, live bands and $5 glasses of wine and beer for the guests and anyone who ponies up $10 and is willing to wear a hand stamp for the next 24 hours.  This summer, I took guests there to enjoy the 50’s scene.  On dry, full moon nights, with the lake in complete reflection, one can imagine being a teenager once again

Today, for the first time in more than a decade I planted tulip bulbs: yellow, red, purple, allium  and daffodils.  How wondrous if all of life had the same surety that the planting of bulbs does.

`Fall is a sneaky season.  As I watch the leaves gently wafting to the ground, that is what they do, I realize it’s a precursor to snow flakes taking the same path.  In the back and along the perimeter of the yard are pine trees.  They basically do little but stand around being green and at some point shed a few pine cones, but the front and side yard has these 100 foot trees [in my master gardener training, trees were not my focus so I am death on identifying them] 8 of them.   In the summer, full of  beautiful green leaves, now turning and dropping like flies, covering the grass.

ps  in the first picture the barren spot under the tree is where the new rhododendrons are growing after having cut them back to the ground

In reading an article about an Off-Broadway play, the star is from Clatskanie, Or.  Now I thought I was in-the-know when I knew about Gaston Or, the home of the twins in the Off-Broadway burlesque show, but Clatskanie?  Beyond my ken.