Heading Southward From The Farm

It'd come time to leave the farm and begin the journey home once again. I locked everything up, vacuumed the floor, cleaned up the dog poop and packed the dogs and my belongings into the car. I decided to take the most direct route home which is right through the high peaks region of the Adirondacks. I pulled out onto the county road and headed south toward the Adirondack Park. One of the first things I passed was this field of ponies and goats:

And I crossed the first of several bridges over the St. Regis River:

I joined a State highway in the town of Hopkinton where I noticed this historical marker in the town square. It commemorated a British raid on the village which took place in February of 1814 as a part of the War Of 1812. A spy had informed the British that a large store of flour was being held for the Americans and was hidden in the barn belonging to Judge Hopkins. (Hopkinton was named for the judge) An early morning surprise attack disclosed that the barn held 300 barrels of flour but due to the small size of the raiding party only half of the provisions could be carried off. The remainder was left to the patriots of Hopkinton:

This is the town green which hosts the community fair each year called Hopkinton Days. I witnessed the tractor pull last year but missed everything this year. Alas, it was the same weekend as the pig roast - which I also missed. But the town green is quiet, scenic and pleasant:

And on the next corner is Wilber's Hardware Store. You can find nearly anything there if you just ask:

And moments after I pulled onto the State highway, I stopped to shoot a photo across this expanse of flat land looking northward. I'd suppose that's Canada far off in the distance:

This farm stand was closed, but I suppose that it has been the site of home grown vegetable sales in years past:

This historic old homestead still watches over the farm fields and now, also the highway:

I turned down Route 458 into the Adirondack Park and passed this familiar home business offering the services of "Quebec Black Bear Hunting Specialist." I'm not sure what those services are, and I wonder every time I pass by:

I passed a small barn with log construction and couldn't help but wonder if it had once been the frontier home:

And this tiny old shack which I know was the originally dwelling (or perhaps hunting camp), because I've watched as the newer, bigger house was built next to it. I was on my way home: