The tour of the Mark Twain home was the high point of the trip so far. First of all, the museum and additional building are very well-done, and the staff are helpful and enthusiastic about their mission. The house itself was amazing. Deep mahoganies, lots of natural light for a home of that era, and beautiful furnishings. The restoration took place between 1929, and it did not open to the public until 1975 – it took that long to find the original furniture and restore all the fixtures, furniture, etc. to its original style and condition.But the results speak for themselves. You can practically feel the ghosts of Twain and all his famous vistors walking through the rooms with you. The attention to detail in the original home, and well-captured in the home as it is now, is astounding. Twain did most of his writing from the large billiard room on the third floor. He had a beautiful desk, but he did the bulk of his writing sitting at a small table in the corner, as he claimed that the big desk had too much room and allowed his mind to lose focus.
On the way back from Twain’s and about a mile east of Litchfield, I saw a sign for the Lourdes Grotto. My interest piqued, I made the turn and went a half-mile down to a surprisingly large venue. They’ve reproduced the grotto at Lourdes – “Lourdes in Litchfield” reads the sign – and hold daily Masses and rosary recitation there. There were several buildings, but on Thursday I was the only soul there. I lit a candle and spent a quiet half hour in reflection. It was impossible not to recall the other reproduction of the Lourdes Grotto that has been such an important part of my life.
Since Ollie was left alone to sleep in the trailer while I was being tourist that day, it was his turn on Thursday (5/5). I found a dog park on the internet that looked pretty great, about 30 minutes ride from the campground. It was worth the trip. It was nearly as big as the one in Emigsville PA, but had the added attraction of being part woods and a good 1,000 feet of river frontage where the dogs could wade around. Half an hour later, a tired, wet, and happy Ollie climbed into the truck and we were off to visit a couple of area wineries.
It seems like there are wine trails everywhere now, and Connecticut is no exception. Our first stop was Hawk Ridge Winery. A new, spacious structure presides over a large lawn area that looks out over just-now-greening rolling hills. Their reds are very good. I must admit, better than those of most Missouri wineries. Then to Haight-Brown Wineries, which is in a cool building but whose grounds and wines both take a back seat to those of Hawk Ridge. Add to that the unappealing name – it sounds to me more like a whiskey distillery at best, a low-income housing project at worst. They are in the process of changing the name to Chestnut Ridge Winery, and not a moment too soon.
One thing I’ve notices as I traveled is how many of my friends have other friends, relatives, or acquaintances along my route. I’ve had at least half a dozen suggestions to “give a call to {fill in name here} while you’re in the area”. One that I fortunately followed up on was my first cousin Arnie, whose daughter and her family live in Connecticut. I called her mainly thinking I’d just say Hi, but despite plans to leave town on vacation she suggested she make the drive up to my area so we could go out for dinner. She did, and we did, and it was a wonderful three hours catching up on the years. Although they are St. Louis natives, she and her husband have lived in Connecticut since the mid-1980s. In large part because of that, our contact has been limited, so it was nice to build on the slim connection we have. A great unexpected event on the trip, and one that will certainly remain a highlight.
I left Connecticut yesterday with some trepidation, as it was to mark the beginning of two consecutive Harvest Host nights. In my case, that means no onboard electricity or bathroom, and no access to my bed as the slide will remain in. I found myself wishing that the next two days would just pass and that I could get to my full hookup campsite on the coast, with its decadent luxury of hot showers, flush toilets, and heat.
Last night (5/6) was spent in Leyden Farm Winery in West Greenwich, RI. The family has had a Christmas Tree Farm for three generations and decided to add grapes and a winery in order to give them more of a year-round revenue stream. They’ve built a really nice venue. Not fancy, but lots of outdoor seating, a picturesque pond, and space for up to 12 travel trailers/RVs. Last night I was the only one, and customers were very slim in the afternoon. A group of ten 23-year-old women arrived shortly after I did, celebrating the birthday of one of their number. They were full of fun and drama and stayed for a couple of hours. At about 1:30, Harold and Angela arrived and sat down at a table not far from me on the lawn. We got to talking over visits from Ollie, and they eventually came over and sat with us. Turns out that Harold is a Brit, from Yorkshire, and Angela is a Massachusetts native who has lived in several places in the U.S. and Europe but is back home. Harold’s birthday was this week, and the two of them were having a mid-Friday thru Sunday getaway to celebrate. I’d guess them to be in their 40s, and they are engaged to be married in June of 2023 in England, where Harold’s mother and family live. They are bringing two daughters, three dogs, a cat, and an aquarium full of fish to the marriage. Angela quite a talker and there was never a lull in the conversation. We shared personal history and wine and stories, and by the time they left at 5:00, it felt as though we were old friends. As Harold and I were alone right before they were leaving while Angela was in the bathroom, Harold looked at me and with wide eyes said, “What am I getting myself into?” The eternal question abides. I hope I see them again.
Weather has been crappy for the last week or more. Other than Thursday, our winery day, it’s been chilly and overcast or raining the entire time. Last night it rained almost the entire night, and with the rain came a stiff breeze. I’m glad our drive today was short – only sixty miles, and ¾ of that over back roads and through small towns. Tonight we’re at Common Ground Cider Works in North Plainfield, MA, and then an early departure to the much-anticipated beach and the ocean again. Twelve days and thousand miles from our last sight of the ocean, this one will be much different, I expect.
