My Ongoing Exploration of Earth
My Ongoing Exploration of Earth
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In addition to fiction and non-fiction books featuring the natural world, Hal Borland once wrote columns for newspapers and magazines. Then in 1967, he compiled many of his old columns into a book, Hill Country Harvest. In it are 136 anecdotes about life on his small farm. He covers science, childhood memories, holiday traditions, etymology, farming, weather, differences in cultural attitudes of the city and the country, and most of all his encounters with the plants and animals of north-western Connecticut. He observes the interactions of birds and squirrels at his feeder, the behavior of swallows nesting in his garage, and the trends in plant life from year to year. His stories remind me of those found in Country Magazine.
I can’t quite pin down why I like the book. Hal is not particularly eloquent. His descriptions are not especially vivid, nor do they capture a slice of life that inspires my nostalgia. He has no detectible sense of humor. His anecdotes are not particularly insightful, unusual, or exciting. They are so simple as to be almost boring, but something keeps them just above that line. I think what caught my imagination was the idea that if he can be successful with such a venture, so can I. Hal reminds me a lot of myself. He has taken a relatively normal life and picked out the best parts, ordering them like a sequence of adventures. Thinking about my time in Rhode Island so far, I realize I definitely have enough material to start a similar book. I am going to start keeping a journal. I might have a relatively normal life, but it is real, and nothing about me can ever be boring. I’m my own favorite subject. There’s a lot that happens to me that doesn’t quite rise to the level of what I normally put on the blog, such as the time I saw the rabbits in the yard, the rainbow at sunset, the hummingbird, the deer, the woodchuck, the Baltimore oriole in the lilac tree, or my take on all the local coffee shops around here. These will go in a book.
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 a fireplace big enough to feed the whole plantation In July 2018 I visited Smith’s Castle in North Kingstown, Rhode Island, which is not a castle, nor does it belong to anyone named Smith. Today it is a museum complete with informative tour guides and a gift shop, but the story is that a fortified, fenced structure once existed in the same spot owned by a guy named Richard Smith. While the colonists of Rhode Island got along okay with the Narragansett people, those in Connecticut, Plymouth, and Massachusetts Bay did not, and believed them to be harboring Wampanoag warriors that had plagued them for years. Since Smith was friendly with the governor of Connecticut, even going so far as supporting the ceding of Rhode Island land, he allowed soldiers from the three surrounding New England colonies to stay at his house and launch an attack from there into the nearby swamp. No Wampanoag were found, and the Narragansett were slaughtered in one of the bloodiest battles of those times. In retaliation, the Narragansett burned down every single home on the western shore of the bay in 1676, including that of Richard Smith, even though it was tucked away in the end of a tiny cove. Note: As it turns out, the site where the Narragansett were attacked is the very same place where I had seen the swamp monument several months ago and several miles away. At last I knew something of where it came from! Soon after, a new home was built in the same spot, which survives to this day (though only a fraction of the wood is original). The house stayed in the Smith name until 1737, when the owner having no sons, it was given to a nephew by the name of Daniel Updike, a lawyer and Rhode Island attorney general who was instrumental in acquiring four counties from Massachusetts – Tiverton, Little Compton, Bristol, and Cumberland. He also had a plantation where he (or, rather, his slaves) grew corn and raised cattle and horses. He sold cheese and candles. In 1812, the place was passed to the Congdon family, then the Babbitt family, and finally the Fox family, who held it until the late 1930s. Each room is packed with much to look at. There are heating jugs for the beds, spinning wheels, and candle molds. I saw the seashell plaster they used on the outer walls. I saw the types of beams used to support the house called gunstock beams, which are wider on the top. The beams still bear the marks telling where each one was to attach to its neighbors. Houses of this type in those days were often assembled at one location, marked, and then disassembled and shipped to where they would remain. It was hard to know what questions to ask, but the docent was very helpful.  Daniel Updike's jacket  I visited Stonington, Connecticut in June 2018, a short peninsula with only one road in or out, all others having been severed by the railroad. I was not able to stay long and therefore pressed for time when I visited the Stonington Lighthouse Museum. I had to rush to get a look at everything, without taking time much to learn about the items or commit them to memory. The museum is inside an old lighthouse with stairs one can climb to the top. It has been there since 1840 and has been a museum since 1927. The location of the previous lighthouse is now a parking lot for the museum and nearby beach. Interestingly, nobody alive today is sure whether the new lighthouse is the same as the old lighthouse that was moved, or if the new one was built to replace it. The records are ambiguous. The museum covers all major aspects of the town’s varied past industries. A map shows where in town these places used to be. There is an exhibit on steamboats, another on steam locomotives, and another on whaling. Featured are all the tools of the whale trade, not just harpoons. There is also a whale rib, vertebra, and section of baleen. There are also teeth. Another section covered ice harvesting. There were many tools involved in gathering ice blocks during the winter to store in food coolers during the summer. Another section covered the process of making pottery. Many pots are on display, most of them rather plain. The history of the Wadawanuck Hotel and Wadawanuck College for Women are shown. There are, of course, lighthouse lenses, as well as many cooking gadgets and various trinkets brought home by sailors from around the world. If I had time, I might have made use of the scavenger hunt questionnaires. Each lists a set of questions whose answers are found somewhere in the museum. There were a lot of things to see packed into a small space, most of which I was totally unfamiliar with (rare for me), such as the eel gig, a tool used to catch eels. The only negative was that not everything was labelled and I always wished I knew more. One thing I thought very interesting that I had never heard before was the practice of placing shoes inside the walls of a new house for good luck and protection from bad spirits. How do these ideas even get started? Shoes have been found inside many of the buildings in town. Another interesting practice was the use of courting mirrors. These were common gifts to give pretty ladies who could then look at themselves. Since they were also slightly transparent, they could be used to look at the gift-giver at the same time. I should try this. I wish I could have stayed longer.  whale vertebra (pen for scale)   the "rabbit rock" of Rome Point Sometimes I just want to escape, forget the human world, and go hide in the woods and smell the roses. This is exactly what I did in June when I visited the John H. Chafee Nature Preserve. There were some other people there, but mostly they were out of sight. The main trail will take you right out onto Rome Point, a tiny peninsula that juts out into Narragansett Bay, so to avoid people I ran down a side path bordered by ferns. Unfortunately, the first path ran into a stone wall on the other side of which was a swamp. I backtracked and took a second side path. Both of these paths were narrow due to the thick vegetation on either side. Numerous vines and branches crossed them. There were also highly visible thorns which I knew would discourage the average person. At last I was starting to feel isolated.  Before long, I entered an open area where the trail split and there was a giant rock with a tree sticking out of it. This place was clearly frequented by humans, but I did not see any yet. I bore left and reentered the jungle. This is when I finally found the best place ever.    The path shrunk to almost nothing, crushed between walls of roses and other vegetation nine feet high. The smell was intoxicating. The bees were few and left me alone. The thorns did not catch. I was slow and careful and as I later discovered the thorns of one species were soft! It went on like this for quite a way around several tight turns before beginning to open up just a little. This is where I found the ruins.  I didn’t know what to make of the wall. I went down a side trail and back, finding three deep holes in the ground. I half-expected them to be full of skulls and gold coins, but instead they just contained bottles and cans. Back on the trail of roses, I was feeling pretty good. I often stopped and looked up. The trees were covered in vines and expertly shaded the forest floor. The path was smooth and mostly free of sticks. I felt that I had found my own private paradise where I could do whatever I wanted, hidden from my enemies. Nobody else came down the path. I wanted to stay, but alas, I had to keep exploring. What existed further down the path?  Eventually, the underbrush cleared up so I could see where I was going and several almost indiscernible paths joined the one I was on. I came to what appeared to be a major intersection. The remains of a car were parked there. I had reached the end of uninhabited territory. I followed the main trail and soon came to a grassy area of many small trails leading to the beach. This is when I first saw humans, but they were far away and paid me no notice.      The tide rushed in between the peninsula and this nearby island:  On the other side of the peninsula, the beach was all stones and lady slipper shells, nothing else. This is where I saw the “rabbit stone.” Straight ahead is a little island with two houses on it. There were also some flowers:    Having seen enough, I returned the way I came. I could not get enough of the roses. I wanted to stay the night. I was going to move in. That is when the humans arrived. Two humans and a dog passed me from behind. I squeezed past another human and a dog going the other way once the trail narrowed. The thorns had not deterred them one bit. I lingered for a while among the bees and had to move over for yet another human. The illusion was broken. This was not going to work out the way I hoped, but nothing could break the good mood I was in.  Nope, not even that.
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AuthorMy name is Dan. I am an author, artist, explorer, and contemplator of subjects large and small. Archives
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