Category Archives: Tavern Tidbits

Bits and pieces about Old Tavern Farm and its historic remnants.

Springtime Bramble

Eleven o’clock, gray and damp, gentle spring rain falling, dogs patiently awaiting their daily morning romp around the upper hayfield and down through a Green River-side Christmas tree farm and wetland I long ago dubbed Sunken Meadow. On my walk out back to the kennel, I pass the two-plant rhubarb bed at the southwest corner […]

Wild Apples, Bees and Stuff

Good news for deer hunters: From what I’ve encountered, there’s a bumper crop of wild apples. I guess it all starts for me in the front yard, where, just off the road at the driveway outflow, stands an old, tired, scabby, partially hollow apple tree I cannot identify. In nearly 20 years of observation, this […]

Divine Intervention, plus

Cabin fever? Nope, not me. It’s true the dead of winter is upon us, the temperatures frigid indeed. Yet for some reason, it doesn’t seem to matter this year, news swarming like black flies, the brittle carcasses piling up on chests of drawers, tables, chairs — you name the piece of furniture in rooms where […]

Splashy Spin

Yeah, yeah, I know. We’ve all cleaned up from one storm, with another looming large, so the early-week slate’s been wiped clean, the stage reset so to speak. Yet still, sometimes a man who does what I do has to capture the moment, which for me occurred before the storm, on Tuesday morning, when, following […]

Dire Wolf

That cold, sly, crescent sliver of the New Year’s first moon wore the mischievous grin of a city slicker peering down from the deep, twinkling, southern weekend sky. To me, the ominous message was clear: beware the Wolf Moon. Who knew, the wind a howling, that developments were about to take a fiendish swirl around […]

Omen Bruin?

Does a bear spit in the woods? You betcha! Sunken Meadow, too. As usual, I would have walked right past the large, tidy pile along the edge of a thin swamp Monday morning had it not been for the grande dame herself, Springer Spaniel Lily, 9, who on her daily ramble around the plot smelled […]

Clockwork

It’s Wednesday morning, column day, and nothing seems to be going right, even choosing a topic difficult. One of those days, I suppose. Always dangerous. Never know where a man might wander on a warm spring day. As for my unexpected issues, well, I imagine you all know the drill. First you go out fiddlehead […]

Common Ground

Sporting the white, cotton, “Old Hawley Common” T-shirt with red letters that I bought Sunday at the common’s unveiling—hint of bear scent wafting through cool, clear mountain air—inspired inquiries from some folks I bumped into this week in my travels. “Oh, you went to that?” was a question by some who had seen the event […]

Pegan Penance

Editor’s note: This piece was written during a fragile moment on the crunchy-cold day before the deluge. I have just returned from the brisk, sun-baked driveway in front of the carriage shed, where, for the umpteenth time this winter, I brushed cordwood debris from my dingy Polarfleece shell. Dirty business, lugging armloads from the woodshed, […]

The Painter

The sad news was fresh, the morning gray. I was backed up to a bluff overlooking the Green River, sitting on my tailgate, sipping coffee, watching my dogs romp up and down the bank, swimming after mallards, flushing them, returning to the plateau, shaking off, bounding through the shin-high hayfield … pure joy. My imagination […]

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