Well, we’ve had some warm weather lately. I’ve always had a simple rule for spring. That is, yard work can wait during the first warm spell. Instead, I go do what I want.
I didn’t get much exercise this winter so now that the ground is bare, I ventured out in the woods. Well, I took a tumble and realized while I need to get in shape doing so in the woods isn’t the way. I better stick to level ground until I tighten up some muscles. I’ll get there.
This past Friday morning, April 9, Lee Decatur and I met at the historical society. Peter Farrar came along up the sidewalk. The three of us visited a few minutes and then went our separate way. Lee and I walked up North Main Street to the Lovers Lane Road. Here we went up Lovers Lane.
I told Lee about the Rod & Gun Club fishing derby at the Lovers Lane Brook when I was a kid and Mrs. Kelly and her million-dollar horse farm. Lee is 10 years older than me and grew up in Kingston, N.H. Lee’s memories of growing up and mine are not that different. Lee’s father was a country doctor.
When we got to the new gazebo near the swimming pool, we sat down at one of the picnic tables. Kathy Estep was there with her 6-year-old granddaughter. Kathy asked if we had any photos of Ware’s gristmill. We have one.
On our way back, several people on North Main were working in their yards. We stopped to say hello, commenting on the day or their flower gardens. One guy was watering his flowers when I noticed an unusual sculpture. Lee and I couldn’t figure it out so I asked the homeowner what it was. He didn’t know either.
We met a few people out walking that I didn’t recognize. These had to be new people who came here in the last year or so. When Lee and I greeted them or commented on what a beautiful morning it was, they avoided replying. Two looked away as if we were lepers. One just nodded. Boy do they have a lot to learn if they ever hope to fit in.
Next Jerry Stewart was busy in his yard so we stopped to visit. I’ve known Jerry all of my life. We got to reminiscing about days gone by. Jerry told us about the day Wiggins burned. Jerry was in the movie theater when someone burst in and announced Wiggins was on fire and were there any firemen here? Jerry said he was 10 or 11 at the time and too young to help, but he did watch Wiggins burn.
Later that day
Now I’m home. About suppertime, Alton Folsom stopped to see me. Alton stops to sell me antiques he picks up. I was looking over his offerings when we got to talking. Alton is a few years older than me and grew up in North Springfield. In a previous life, I hung out in North Springfield so I knew many of Alton’s friends. We have a lot in common.
After we struck a deal, we sat and visited. I was looking through a drawer of stuff when I found a tiny keychain harmonica. I showed it to Alton and said, “Look at this.” Alton replied, “I can play that” so I handed it to him. Sure enough he began to play. It might seem corny to some readers, but it made my day.
A little later, Reggie Munson stopped by for a few minutes. We talked about cows, maple syrup, and work. Reggie plows driveways during the winter and does property management and lawn mowing in the summer. Reggie is a hardworking Vermonter.
On my way to Springfield the other day I noticed Reggie’s truck parked on Route 11. I slowed down to see Reggie entering the woods. I had wondered what he was doing so I asked him this Friday evening. Reggie keeps a few beef cows so he has about 30 acres of pasture fenced in. Reggie told me some of his cedar fence posts needed replacement and that was what he was doing when I saw him. I asked how the maple syrup business was this year. Reggie said some producers did only about half of what they did last year. This was one day in my life.
This week’s old saying: “It’s a rare farm that has no bad ground.”