As a kid in the 70s on day trips, I was always fascinated by cars in yards in the countryside. Any sighting of a backyard Model A was a thrill for a kid from the NY suburbs. There are no more backyard Model A's.
In the early 1960s my parents purchased a summer cabin in the Berkshire Mountains in northwestern Massachusetts. It was in a very rural area but just down the bluestone lined road was an abandoned farmhouse. behind it was about a half dozen junked cars all dating from the late 30s to the early 50s. The windows were knocked out and what was left of the upholstery was being removed by porcupines. I was fascinated by the old speedometer, gas gage and temperature gages. The tires were all flat and there was hardly any paint left. It seemed as soon as the car stop running it was lined up with the last non-running car and left to rust. It was an automotive museum for a 12 year old boy.
These views put me in mind of favorite place of mine. In the 1970s my aunt took singing lessons from a woman named Grace Donovan who was the widow of Richard Donovan, a Yale Professor of Music and a composer for whom Donovan Road is named in Round Pond, Maine. I never met Professor Donovan but I was enchanted by his tiny one-room studio half way up the hill from the main house. There he composed to his heart's content. Mrs. Donovan invited my aunt and uncle as well as my Mom and me to lunch on her second floor porch looking out to Loud's Island. Her home was an absolute paradise and I am very grateful for her kindness and generosity in asking all of us to be her guests. The view was very similar to some of the views here...maybe just a coincidence, but a classic Maine vista of the shore and islands beyond.
As a kid in the 70s on day trips, I was always fascinated by cars in yards in the countryside. Any sighting of a backyard Model A was a thrill for a kid from the NY suburbs. There are no more backyard Model A's.
ReplyDeleteIn the early 1960s my parents purchased a summer cabin in the Berkshire Mountains in northwestern Massachusetts. It was in a very rural area but just down the bluestone lined road was an abandoned farmhouse. behind it was about a half dozen junked cars all dating from the late 30s to the early 50s. The windows were knocked out and what was left of the upholstery was being removed by porcupines. I was fascinated by the old speedometer, gas gage and temperature gages. The tires were all flat and there was hardly any paint left. It seemed as soon as the car stop running it was lined up with the last non-running car and left to rust. It was an automotive museum for a 12 year old boy.
ReplyDeleteHow did you folks fare in the two storms? My little coastal village here in Maine got hit very hard.
ReplyDeleteClear in New England and snowing in DC. Weird.
ReplyDeleteSheer perfection! You nevet let us down! Thanl you, so very much!
ReplyDeleteThese views put me in mind of favorite place of mine. In the 1970s my aunt took singing lessons from a woman named Grace Donovan who was the widow of Richard Donovan, a Yale Professor of Music and a composer for whom Donovan Road is named in Round Pond, Maine. I never met Professor Donovan but I was enchanted by his tiny one-room studio half way up the hill from the main house. There he composed to his heart's content. Mrs. Donovan invited my aunt and uncle as well as my Mom and me to lunch on her second floor porch looking out to Loud's Island. Her home was an absolute paradise and I am very grateful for her kindness and generosity in asking all of us to be her guests. The view was very similar to some of the views here...maybe just a coincidence, but a classic Maine vista of the shore and islands beyond.
ReplyDelete