From Moira To Dickinson, Franklin County - Part 1

I picked out a couple of roads in Moira for a driving tour. But when I got there, I discovered they looked pretty much like any semi-rural, suburban roads. So I just kept driving farther, until I began to find old farms and country scenery. In the end, I'd driven seven roads and traveled from Moira to Dickinson. I was happy when I began to see farm houses:

I love old farm houses and the way they're built. I imagine the families they've sheltered and the stories, both happy and sad, which have unfolded within those walls:

This old farm house apparently began as a brick structure, but a large addition had been built onto one end of it:

Some homes were dressed up for Christmas:

Both front doors on this old farm house looked ancient, possibly as old as the house:

There were hay rakes out in the snow covered fields:

And front porches, unused during the winter months, sheltered by rows of White Cedar:

Barns and silos:

I found this structure to be curious. I'm guessing it began as a small house but then became a barn when the addition was built onto one end:

A great quantity of hay and two silos:

This picturesque green house appeared to be empty and the driveway was unplowed:

I stopped at this barnyard full of sheep, all of which watched me with great interest while chewing their cuds. They clearly were handled kindly and they liked people. But my driving tour was not finished yet. I'll post Part 2 tomorrow:

Scenic Farms On Route 345 - Part 2

I was on my way home from the swap meet, and taking photos of the scenic farms along Route 345 (see Part 1, yesterday). This old farm house was no longer occupied and looked a bit forlorn behind its White Cedars:

A stone farm house with well kept grounds and immaculate barns:

Classic farm house with red barns:

This old red barn and silo appeared not to be in use anymore:

And this small barn sat, all alone, back in the woods:

A traditional old farmstead with twin silos:

Modern green roofs on these barns. I'd sure like to do likewise with mine:

A very old barn:

And finally, this historic farmstead. But I was almost into town at this point, so I put my camera away and concentrated on driving:

Part 2 - Sinclair Corner, New York

Sinclair Corner surprised me with its many homes. Not too far outside of Potsdam, I imagined it was a nice suburban settlement and many people commuted to Potsdam or Canton for work:

There were lovely, well kept old farms and barns:

And woodsy looking homes set back into the pines:

This was pleasant country living:

Many homes were set far back off the road, a boon for those who earned money plowing snow and a feeling of being set off in nature for those who lived there:

There were old fashioned sap buckets on ancient maples:

And barns and sheds out behind many homes:

This wonderfully scenic family farm caught my eye:

And this well kept home with its beautiful front porch had a sentinel maple tree out front which apparently had suffered the loss of its top half many years ago:

I noticed many American flags and White Cedar trees:

This seemed to be an old farm house all fixed up for a modern, suburban family:

There were lots of trailers in Sinclair Corner as well as in other rural settlements. I've never seen a dealer in the area, but business must be brisk. But this ended my driving tour of Sinclair Corner. I'd found it much more populous than I'd expected and quite pleasant:

The Farm In Autumn

We arrived at the farm on a Sunday afternoon and I got the car unpacked and the dogs settled. The next order of business was to check out the beginnings of fence construction. I left old Winky and Wally sleeping in the apartment and took the rest of the dogs out for a walk in the south field. There were White Cedar fence posts piled up here and there in preparation. These "giant pencils" were piled next to the thornless raspberry patch which, I later decided, would be inside the fence for the cattle to nibble on:

A giant pile driver was parked near my barn, all ready to begin banging those fence posts into the ground:

I returned to the apartment and let all the dogs out into side yard because the tenants' friendly but rowdy young Labs were in the dog run:

Fergus posed for a portrait, but looked a little bit worried:

We came back indoors and got ourselves comfy:

Seamus rested next to my bed:

And Clover curled up in front of the heater:

Winky just watched me, smiling in his crooked way:

Monday was a busy day. I met with the fence installer and walked the perimeter of both fields. Then I spent the rest of the day loading up another dumpster with garbage from the barn. Notice the autumn color across the field. By nightfall I was so spent that I crashed into bed and slept soundly. We left for home the following morning, but I'll post about that tomorrow:

Chapter One, Debar Pond

The dogs and I had driven up to the farm on Sunday. When Monday morning rolled around, I put the four youngest dogs in the car and headed out to a hiking trail shortly after dawn. I wanted to stay cool. I drove down the Port Kent Hopkinton Turnpike as I commonly do on my way home, but then followed the instructions and turned onto an unmarked, tiny dirt lane I'd never even noticed before. About a mile through the forest I saw this sign and parked:

It took me a minute to locate the trail, but it was abundantly clear after I'd found it because it was a series of planks taking us over wetlands. The dogs were thrilled:

We passed over brooks where Joe-Pye Weed grew in abundance:

And continued through wet, boggy forests of White Cedar and other trees, walking about three feet off the ground on the planks:

Clearly there had been a big blow-down in places and I thought how utterly terrifying it would be to find oneself in the woods during such an event:

And on we walked. The planks were covered with chicken wire in places to make them less slippery:

Eventually, though, we left the raised boardwalk behind and continued on the trail as it traversed the forest on solid ground. I passed some of the largest, healthiest patches of Shining Clubmoss I'd ever seen:

And it wasn't long before we arrived at Debar Pond, surrounded by mountains and far, far, far from any roads except that tiny dirt lane. Its beauty was enough to cause me to gasp. The dogs, however, only wanted to play in the water:

And play they did, with even Fergus and Daphne going right in and actually swimming. That was the first time they've ever done that:

I took a side trail off toward the east side of the lake and the dogs came with me. Seamus did also, but at first he was reluctant to leave the water:

We walked just a short way to where someone had a privately owned log cabin. Though there were no signs posted, I didn't want to trespass, so I stopped there and admired the view of the west shore of Debar Pond:

A spectacular, wilderness place to be sure. I thought this was to be the end of our brief hike but it didn't turn out to be so. I'll post more tomorrow: