FRIENDS OF TOPSMEAD STATE FOREST
Discover a hidden treasure in the Litchfield Hills of Connecticut
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Growing up at Topsmead was a gift for which I will be forever grateful. We had a level of freedom which would never have been possible living in Waterbury. Three of us were companions: my older brother John (Jackie); Barbara, one of the Abrahamson daughters, whose family rented the Buell cottage from 1941 to 1951; and myself. Barbara later became my sister-in-law, after she married my brother in 1962.
We had the run of the farm as long as we behaved ourselves, which we mostly did. At the farm we played badminton and croquet on the lawn between our houses. We visited all the animals: the cows both in the fields and in the barn during milking times; the pigs, who when we went near them got excited and snorted because they thought they were going to be fed; and the turkeys, who would gobble if we just made a noise to get them started. We climbed the apple and plum trees on the farm grounds. We rode our bikes around the farm proper and on all the farm roads and Jefferson Hill Road and Jefferson Hill Road South out to Terryplace and the barns there. In the fall we raked leaves in piles and jumped into and out of the piles. |
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Let's All Hurkle-Durkle! February 2025
Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow on February 2 and dashed back into his burrow, so we can expect the polar vortex to be visiting us for six more weeks of winter. Can't go south to chase the warmer temps? Wondering how to entertain yourself during six more weeks of winter? I have a one-two combination suggestion.
PART ONE: According to Project Gutenberg, to hurkill or hurkle is a verb meaning to draw the body together or to be contracted in folds. According to The Dictionaries of the Scots Language, when hurkle is combined with durkle, the result is a lovely condition described as "to lie in bed when one should be up and about." An 1825 poem gives an example of how to use the word. (Have fun reading aloud with a Scottish brogue.) Lang after peeping greke o' day, In hurkle-durkle Habbie lay. Gae tae ye'r wark, ye dernan murkle, And ly nae there in hurkle-durkle. Being a night owl and a late sleeper, I just had to try this hurkle-durkle thing. Upon waking up the other morning and peeking at the 1 degree temperature reported on my iPhone weather app, I gave myself permission to try it. I snuggled down between my flannel sheets and under my cozy duvet. À la Project Gutenberg’s definition, I contracted my body in folds...aka curled up. The goal is not to go back to sleep, but to experience extended lounging-about guilt-free. How luxurious.... How relaxing.... No pressure to leap out of bed. -read complete Musings essay- |
photo by Tom Holzel