My Neighborhood

At the corner of Rolenson and Curve Road sets an old white farmhouse with overgrown bushes cloaking its cluttered yard. In summer the bushes joyously run riot, spilling out in all directions, obstructing the view enough that when driving, turning the corner there requires a leap of faith. Old man Ford lives in this house and people say that the Fords once owned all the land around, as far as the eye could see. All that remains of the great farm now is the clapboard farmhouse, derelict barn, the hen house that still houses a few chickens and some old beehives act as backdrop to a weedy vegetable garden. Seats and handles of rusted farm equipment poke up out of the grass in the overgrown fields and volunteer sunflowers dot the landscape here and there. The old rooster weather vane that sets crookedly atop the rundown barn squeals in protest each time the wind pushes it into rotation. Mr. Ford still offers brown eggs and clover honey for sale but some say they aren’t safe. Only the old-timers from the area still stop by his place to buy his products.

At the four way stop at Cheshire and across the road from the new firehouse sets a more modern sprawling ranch house. Built of the long flat rectangles of pink and gray limestone favored in the sixties, it’s almost flat roof and sleek lines speak of The Rat Pack, Manhattan cocktails and the cold war. Behind the house a white gazebo perches on the edge of a cattail rimmed pond that is enjoyed by the ducks that make their nest on the tiny island in the middle. In the summer you will likely see the old mister that lives there, outside bouncing along on his riding lawn mower. He jogs along mowing the grassy acres protected from the sun by a fringed canopy swaying above his straw-hat covered head. I wonder if the man on the mower is the same man that fifty years ago closely monitored the construction of this house, anxiously waiting for the day he would move his family into their new dream home. Although I don’t know him, I worry if I don’t see him for a while and am relieved when I see the familiar fluttering flat topped rig sail past.

Going back down the road the other way back in the woods sets a huge white house with yellow and black trim. It has two turrets, one on either side, a wrap around veranda and flourishes and swirls of the Victorian style gingerbread house. The entire property is enclosed in a stone fence with ornate wooden stiles and gates set at convenient intervals. In the yard is not just one but two gazeboes, wood and stone bridges hover over the small creek and a fanciful garden shed is out back. The property is chocked full of lovely pieces of construction. Here’s the interesting thing about this place. About ten years ago, a lone man began building a garage on this land. It was a nice big normal looking garage and when it was completed the man moved into the garage and lived there for the winter.
The next spring he began construction of what is now the left wing of the house and each year thereafter he continued to build a portion of the house until it was complete. When the house was finished then each summer found him working on a new structure, bridge, etc. As far as I can tell he has done the majority of the work himself, all very beautiful and ornate. Over the years it has been fascinating to watch the building of this small kingdom but in my mind I wonder if the builder has ever heard of the expression, “Gilding the Lilly”.…..

Back down the road not far from the old Ford place sets a nice little red brick ranch house. Its yard is awash with beautiful bright flowers that flourish in every nook and cranny. This sturdy little house was built about forty years ago by a couple wanting a place in the country were they could create a beautiful garden, orchard and park. They made sure there was a cistern in place to collect the rain water and plenty of panty storage downstairs then they got busy planting, planting, and planting. They planted pine trees, spruce trees, apple trees, peach trees, cherry trees, as well as flowers and vegetables of all varieties. The couple is gone now but the bounty that they created lives on in the mature trees and thriving plants they lovingly place here so long ago.

Next door, sets a pleasant stucco and brick two story house. It is newer in the neighborhood then some of the others but not so new as to have not settled to its place. At first the pine and spruce trees planted so long ago towered over the house but as the years passed they advanced until they wrapped the house into a spiky embrace. The now tangled woods and old orchard encourage the forest dwellers to shelter there and enjoy the abundance and safety of the place. The couple that lives there enjoys watching the deer with their spindly legged babies and the noisy but small chittering squirrels that prefer spruce trees for their homes. The woman that lives there has been known to feed the random furry visitors that come to her back door.

DLF 07/04/2010