Going astray

Refreshed by the Deerfield River, we continued our drive, intending to proceed north in the direction of route 9 then retrace our steps.

.

The windmills coming into view confirmed we were heading in the right direction.

.

Up here, Spring is slow in arriving, pines standing out from still naked trees.

.

At Heartwellville cemetery, just a hint of new life…

.

But a few miles on we had changed seasons again.

It put me in mind of driving in Utah where you could go from baking hot desert to cool forests in the space of a few hours.

.

Mere minutes before, we’d been in the mountains where the trees were bare. The difference was notable and I was wondering how lowland Vermont managed to be so far ahead of our little corner of New York, which is when Grant announced “we’re in Massachusetts!”

How did we get there?

The directions had been so simple. Turn right at Heartwellville. Admittedly, I wasn’t paying attention, but it appears we must have veered left and gone south. This was proof that in Spring, a matter of miles makes a big difference.

.

We surely weren’t expecting lions, which is what I think these are supposed to be.

Sailing by at speed, I captured a poor image of the rather cross-looking creatures.

.

In Massachusetts, many trees were in flower.

.

But everywhere the images were spoiled by power lines or light posts.

.

Forsythia bushes are in bloom everywhere but I’ve discovered they are hard to photograph, perhaps because they are so brightly coloured. Passing by in a car doesn’t help.

It reminds me of broom or gorse which is so beautiful on hill slopes in Europe, but forsythia lasts a very short time, like so many Spring flowers.

.

Fruit trees too, put on a staggering show, but if you blink, you miss it.

As I recall, Washington DC was famous for its cherry trees, but I think King Charles may have arrived too late for that display.

.

As we drove along we noticed bushes with dark red flowers that we did not recognise and I could not get close enough to inspect the flower.

An internet search suggests it may be weigela.

.

On the map, it looks as if we went a long way off course. Our ETA on the GPS suddenly changed from 30 minutes to an hour, but it wasn’t long before we crossed the state line again and going astray often has benefits.

We had not been to Massachusetts for several years and this reminded us that it really is not far. We once went to an exhibition at MASS MoCA (Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art) in the town of North Adams. Methinks it’s time for another visit.

.

Overhead, clouds were arriving in unusual blotches.

.

We found ourselves following another river which I discovered was the Hoosic.

.

2026 is the year of the dandelion. We have bumper crops. I welcome them now as they are cheerful and support bees and other creatures.

Long ago, my aunt Win made a very good and quite potent dandelion wine!

.

Approaching Hoosick (only the town gets a k), we passed the tree farm which covers many acres and is overfull of saplings for which I cannot imagine there is a market. Like all those car dealerships with huge inventories of vehicles – who buys them?

While it is hard to care about unwanted cars, I do care about trees.

.

Hoosick is another once thriving town on the verge of becoming a ghost.

.

Here’s a story of how it came to be named:

Various species of owls, such as the Eastern Screech-Owl, inhabit the Hoosick Falls and Hoosic River regions.

“Hoosick owl” generally refers to a prominent local belief that the name “Hoosick” translates to “Valley of the Owl” in the Indigenous Algonquin language. However, linguists who have studied the region note that the name likely stems from a term meaning “place of stones,” with the owl connection stemming from a 19th-century historical book. 

.