Arriving At The Farm

It had been a long drive, but the dogs and I arrived at the farm and found it looking marvelous, the apple and pear trees all decked out in their flowery finery:

The little goldfish pond was encircled with flowers and the new tenants had a feeder out to attract hummingbirds:

The Bleeding Hearts were in full bloom:

One of the Flowering Crabs was covered with spherical pink buds:

And the other Flowering Crab's flowers were fully opened, already past their prime:

I put the dogs inside their fenced run and little Clover immediately began finding escape holes which I blocked with concrete blocks:

A Baltimore Oriole seemed to be accompanying me on my inspection tour, flying from apple tree to apple tree and singing. He and his mate had a nest in one of the giant, rotten old maple trees I'd had cut down. I suppose they were shocked to return this spring and find their home tree vanished, but apparently they've built a new nest and are doing just fine:

Strawberry plants were growing rapidly around the goldfish pond:

We went indoors, into my little apartment and the dogs made themselves comfortable. Winky fell asleep on a floor pillow:

Clover and Fergus snoozed on my bed:

Seamus just sprawled out on the floor:

Daphne found herself a nice, soft pillow also. Well, we'd arrived and this time I planned to stay for two nights instead of just one. I'll post more tomorrow:

One More Small Adventure Along The Way

The dogs and I had passed through the town of Tupper Lake on our way through the Adirondacks heading toward the farm for a visit. We were on the final leg of the trip, Route 458, when I noticed that the gates into a favorite section of State land had been opened for the season. So I turned the car onto the tiny dirt road and ascended a very steep hill. When I parked and let the dogs out, they immediately ran toward an old cabin. It had formerly been closed up and locked, but that day the door was wide open:

No shrinking violets, my dogs ran boldly inside to check it all out:

My guess is that this had once been someone's private hunting cabin until New York State purchased the land. It's been closed up and locked ever since - until, that is, some vandals broke open the door. Seamus felt it was his duty to sniff every inch of the place:

When I'd cleared all the dogs out of the cabin, we all took a walk along a narrow dirt road which began in a grassy field and then headed deep into the forest. Now we were on a hike, though I knew it'd have to be a brief one:

The road was level and the walking was easy. The scenery was lovely. Only the black flies spoiled an otherwise perfect moment:

On and on we walked, going deeper into the forest:

But I decided that we had to turn around and go back to the car, especially with Winky along. Otherwise, I'd have wound up carrying him:

When we arrived at the car, my curiosity won out over my good sense. I just had to see where that flat dirt road led to. So we all got back into the car, rolled the windows up to keep out the black flies and headed back into the forest to see where the road would take us. It was several miles before the road began looking unsafe. It took some searching to find a place to turn around, but I did so and we drove back to the highway to finish our journey to the farm:

Passing Through The Town Of Tupper Lake

Still on our way to the farm through the Adirondacks, the dogs and I made another rest stop alongside the road near a beautiful little brook just outside of the town of Tupper Lake:

Daphne and Clover, the lively young Papillons, had everything explored and sniffed by the time the older dogs had managed to arrive at a clearing:

Fergus usually keeps up with "The Silly Sisters," as I've taken to calling the Papillons, but this time he accompanied slow old Winky through the forest:

Seamus investigated everything. He may have slowed down, but with those long legs can still cover ground rapidly:

As we enjoyed the scenery and forest aromas, I made a mental note that hiking in the Adirondacks should wait until black fly season was over. I was getting bit every few seconds:

I called all the dogs back to the car and we resumed our journey:

The cliffs rose high up along the road as we arrived at Tupper Lake, that is the actual lake, just south of the town:

The lake was no longer flooded as it was when we last passed this way. It was, however, exceedingly lovely:

Adirondack mountains rose up all around the lake:

Living in the midst of such natural beauty would be a wonderful thing, except perhaps in the wintertime or in black fly season:

I took one last photo of beautiful Tupper Lake:

I'd shot some photos and explored a bit while the dogs waited anxiously in the car. So I hurried back to resume our journey to the farm:

The Adirondack Town Of Newcomb, New York

The dogs and I were driving up to the farm through the Adirondacks via Route 28N and had already seen some magnificent scenery. We'd had a rest stop along a bubbling brook and stretched our legs. Then we arrived in the small town of Newcomb, New York. I parked across the street from a small church so that I could photograph the high peaks visible just over the tree line:
These mountains are much closer than they appear here, just a few miles away in fact:

Just beyond those trees stand a few of the Adirondacks' higher peaks. The town of Newcomb is a great place to get a view:

The grassy field in town appeared to be a park, and there was a monument identifying those mountains visible from that spot:

I got back into my car and continued on, enjoying the small town sights. It felt much like going back in time:

This rather ramshackle looking general store may or may not have still been in business. I couldn't tell by looking and I didn't try the door. I suspect because of the ice machine, however, that it was indeed open for business:

Lake Harris abuts the town and runs right along the highway:

I stopped with the dogs near the water's edge for a few shots of that wonderful, pristine Adirondack lake:
One more photo and we were on our way once again:

And just outside of Newcomb we crossed over this scenic Adirondack stream. Believe it or not, this is the Hudson River, just south of its origin but far north of where it becomes a major river:

Videos Of An Adirondack Experience

In yesterday's post I talked about the beginning of my trip with the dogs up through the Adirondacks toward the farm and our first rest stop along Route 28N. Here's a couple of short videos of the dogs exploring the little ferny and mossy brook:



In this second video, I am encouraging old Wally to cross the brook. He'd already crossed it once in the opposite direction, so perhaps he was remembering how cold the water was. I finally gave up and turned off the camera, after which Wally immediately crossed the brook. We all piled back into the car and resumed our journey northward:

A Bubbling, Gurgling Adirondack Brook

I was once again driving north through the Adirondack Mountains with all six dogs on my way to the farm. This time I planned to stay for two nights instead of one and really get some work done. On a whim, I turned off the highway at Exit 26 and headed up through the towns of Pottersille, Olmsteadville and Minerva to scenic State Route 28N. When I saw a place to pull off the road, I did so:

I saw no other cars passing by, but my car was well off the road if any traffic should appear. So I let all the dogs out of the car and we trooped down an embankment into the forest. There we discovered a burbling brook flowing through the mosses, ferns and balsam firs. Wally was reluctant, but finally crossed the water:

Fergus, being young and athletic, was bold and adventurous, running ahead and then looking back to encourage us to hurry and catch up to him:

Little Clover, fast as a rabbit and fearless as a wolf, boldly explored on her own, glancing back now and then to make sure the rest of us hadn't turned off in some other direction:

Seamus, Daphne and Wally explored calmly, mostly staying with me:

Winky, however, is old, slow and exceedingly stubborn. Encouraging him to keep up with us was a constant necessity:

The three youngsters, with all their excess energy, ran and jumped and explored every smell and hidey-hole:

My most vivid memory is the smell of the mosses which brought back to mind happy days in my youth exploring the Douglas Fir forests of western Oregon. Fern fiddleheads were growing everywhere:

The two Papillon puppies were not hesitant to jump across the water. Seamus just waded right through it. But old Wally was unsure of himself and needed much encouragement:

But this was only a rest stop and we had many miles yet to go. So I collected the dogs and called them back toward the car:

Once all the dogs were loaded up in the car, I was ready to resume my journey. I took a couple of videos of the dogs exploring that little brook which I'll post tomorrow: