ONE OF THE THINGS THAT SHOCKED ME when I moved to the country was how much driving one has to do to get anywhere. The other day a friend and I combined yard-saling with a fitness walk, and in the process I noticed several fine old houses on Springs Fireplace Road — four in a row — that I sort of knew were there, but that had more or less escaped my notice as I whizzed by at 50mph.
One’s a mid-19th century farmhouse, above and top. I love the fresh coat of white paint over everything – the clapboards on the lower level and the shingles above, the arched window in the attic, and the restrained gingerbread on the porch.
Then there’s a very plain and unprepossessing cedar-shingled house, above, with an offset front door that looks exceedingly informal — perhaps it’s not the original front door. The duck decoys, below, made me smile, as did the purpose-built box to hide the electric meter (I need one of those).
Right next door is another cedar-shingled farmhouse of the late 19th century, below. with blue trim on the fence tying in to the front entry and window lintels. This house deserves better in the way of an entry portico, I think.
A little ways down from that one is a house, below, with painted shingles, dormer windows, a picket fence, and a plaque reading 1839.
There’s a marvelous barn, below, behind it.
Walking. It’s an eye-opener.