Old Glory

Kelly had to work (yes, work!), so it was me and the bloggerette scrambling up route 143 at about 10:50, trying to get to Chesterfield's parade, which started at 10:30. To save time we eschewed the regular parking spaces strung out along the Main road into the center of town, and pulled right up to the parade's road block; risking a parking ticket for a look at some good old fashioned July 4th revelry.



I'd say the parade was about halfway through when we arrived.



For a town of about 1200 people, either everyone in town showed up for this, or the surrounding towns came flooding in; because spectatorship must have been in the multiple thousands, lined into the distance along the parade route.





I'll go with the latter reason, because I'm sure many out of towners came here with the same idea: A good, old fashioned hilltown parade and festival.





Nothing to big or flashy needed. Few if any giant floats. Just a lot of people turning out for a local community event on a glorious day for celebration.







Antique cars, some tractors, a few fire engines. Some livestock. Just the basics, please.







Alright, maybe some new local innovations in travel thrown in... can't stop progress, you know.





But certainly, some remembrance of why we've been able to celebrate this day oh, about 234 times now.



Sacrifices that were, are, and will be made.



As a nation, we've been lucky, to be sure. But it wasn't all luck.



The last elements of the parade rolled, marched, honked and clip-clopped past.



With hearty applause and cheers, the crowd began to break up and mill about; purveying the other holiday festivities Chesterfield had set up for the day.



It's always a good feeling to see simple traditions spanning the tests of time.

Speaking of which, it was time to walk my baby back home...

Road Ice

I took a spin up to the nether-reaches of the valley Saturday to take a look at the results of Thursday's ice storm, and add to the small flurry of ice storm scenery on the local blogosphere...The temps have stayed below freezing since the storm, allowing the ice to remain freshly clung to the trees as I ran up Route 143, into Chesterfield...







The weight of the heavy ice easily bent the less stout of the trees along the roadside, and in some places the laden branches dangerously leaned on utility lines.





Some of the utility poles had snapped like twigs under all the weight.



On into the beautiful hilltop center of Chesterfield...





...crews were working overtime cutting down dangerous limbs and tottering trees that threatened to damage the town buildings.









Dangerous as an ice storm can be, with the sunlight streaming down it was all a magically beautiful sight. And as widespread as the ice covering was here, from the hilltop center it can be seen that it was actually just the edge of a giant ice field stretching west, out into the Berkshire hills....

Fungus, And Other Beautiful Things

All the rain this summer has created ideal conditions for mushrooms. Here's a sampling of the many varieties we came across on our walk Saturday, in the wet woods of the Chesterfield Gorge area:











I don't know too much about mushrooms and fungi, but I know enough about the natural world to know that if it's bright and colorful, it's probably dangerous. We made sure not to touch these glaring yellow examples:









I'm not sure what category of dangerousness metallic colors fall into, but I gave this one a wide berth anyway.



Over in the Deciduous world, I have to say I was a little crest fallen when I found this acorn; a portent of things to come...



Is Summer almost over...already..?

On the way home, we got kind of lost, kind of on purpose, and found ourselves on high country roads.



The scenery is beautiful in the Chesterfield, Huntington, Worthington areas. That is, if you could see the scenery.





We took a correct wrong turn, and came by a beautiful little farm high up on Walnut Hill, in Chesterfield.















It was getting late. The shadows were getting long, and there was the slightest chill in the air. It was time to head back down the twisting roads over the foothills, and back into the warm arms of the Pioneer Valley.



Always good to be back home.