Barns nestle into the bottom of a broad ridge in Northern Connecticut, the adjacent pastures already thick with grasses by early May. Woodlands on the hillside have taken to “greening over” as recent rains nourish buds and emerging leaves.
In modern times, Canton is a prosperous township of nearly 9,000 in the Farmington River Valley. Even as early as the mid-1800s, the renowned Collinsville ax factory brought growth and industrial might in the southern reaches of the town.
But the earliest settlers of Canton, said to have arrived there in the 1740s, didn’t fare quite so well. So toilsome were their efforts at building a life in this hilly, wooded frontier that they saw fit to name their founding village “Suffrage”. One can only imagine that, for these struggling pioneers, a time when their hamlet would enjoy comfort and convenience seemed impossibly distant.
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As the farms of Northern Connecticut settle into springtime, grasses and tiny wildflowers sprout up at the periphery of the fields. In just a couple weeks, imperceptible buds on the distant shade trees will burst into a fresh crown of leaves… but for now, the branches still seem just as bare as the old, cedar fence posts nearby.
Even though I very much enjoy the winter aesthetic in New England, it never fails that I spend the entire month of April holding my breath in anticipation for “leaf-out”. Stripped forests and dormant fields, in all of their unlikely audacity, never fail to brazenly trespass upon several weeks that rightfully belong to spring!
But especially fitting of my Yankee Farmlands project is a line by late French author Alain-Fournier. “Life on the farm is a school in patience,” he explained,” you can’t hurry the crops or make an ox in two days.” Landscape photography tends to demand a strikingly similar brand of patience, equanimity and perseverance… and the harvest cannot be rushed.
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Remote woodlands of Central Connecticut emerge from the grip of winter, channeling fresh spring rains through a sprightly brook which tumbles through the hills. The forest floor is obscured beneath a dense blanket of leaf litter, remnants of last autumn that have only recently thawed after several frigid months bound up in ice and buried by snow.
Depending on whose metric we use, there are anywhere from a dozen to as many as a hundred waterfalls in Connecticut. But because so much of the state is criss-crossed by roads, most of them are can be seen with a fairly short walk from the blacktop. Some are even visible without leaving the roadside.
“The Cascade”, a 15-foot horsetail on Carr Brook, is among the few that aren’t quite so easy to reach. This waterfall demands a ¾-mile drive down an old dirt logging road, then a mile long hike through the hills.
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Amidst sandy beaches and gently swaying reeds, the iconic Five Mile Point Lighthouse rises from the shores of New Haven Harbor.
Five Mile Point Lighthouse, built from countless tons of locally quarried brownstone, was completed in 1845 to replace the original wooden lighthouse established on Morris Cove in 1805. But long before even that early lighthouse was built, the shores of this cove hosted a desperate battle which is remembered to this very day.
In 1779, as the American Revolution raged, British troops landed on this beach to launch an invasion of New Haven. Patriot forces fought back and the British are said to have buried their fallen troops quite close to where the lighthouse would eventually be constructed decades later. Although the redcoats managed to push forward and burn several houses and farms, they suffered such heavy casualties that the decision was made to abandon their advance on the city.
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Hazy clouds glide over flatlands in Northern Connecticut where we find a sprawling farm bounded only by the soft contours of distant hills. Before us, a herd of dairy cattle mingle about, some wandering casually while others are content to lounge upon the ground in the warm springtime sun.
Ask just about anyone to describe a cow from memory and they will almost certainly mention the blotchy, black and white pattern of the iconic Holstein. This exceptionally popular breed accounts for 90% of the dairy livestock in the United States, owing largely to its remarkable knack for milk production. The average Holstein yields around 25,000 gallons of milk per year; exceptional specimens can supply 70,000 gallons!
And while we’re on the topic of impressive numbers, it’s worth mentioning that the Holsteins seen in this piece are just a handful of the 4,000 kept on 2,800 acres at Connecticut’s largest dairy farm. An operation of that size is remarkable for a small and crowded state like Connecticut, especially when you consider that the average US dairy farm only keeps around 200 cows.
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Windswept coastal grasslands crowd a weathered boardwalk which ushers us towards the beachfront along the Connecticut coast. Out over the ocean, morning clouds stage a stirring display.
While the unspoiled beauty of coastal areas like Milford Point may be the prime draw for many sightseers, the most essential purpose of these protected beaches lies in providing breeding habitat for migratory shorebirds.
By the mid-1900s, some 120 million acres of waterfowl habitat had been lost to development in the United States. The federal government highlighted that very figure in a 1941 report, noting that “for many years most species of migratory game birds have been in a precarious situation”. Perhaps ironically, bird hunters of the era brought some of the earliest attention to problem, reporting dramatic reductions in available game compared to earlier decades. Luckily, these observations and subsequent studies spurred many early efforts to create a system of refuges to accommodate migratory birds, lest they decline to extinction. The work continues today.
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Cattle wander aimlessly through a silent pasture veiled in heavy fog which clings to the Litchfield Hills. Though springtime arrived a few days earlier, dormant woodlands at the farm edge still reach skyward with bare branches.
As if the leafless forests weren’t a stark enough reminder of colder months past, Connecticut is expecting another few inches of snow today. In the words of 19th-century author Edgar Nye: “Winter lingered so long in the lap of Spring that it occasioned a great deal of talk.”
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With spring having arrived just about a week ago, it’s about that time for my on-going Yankee Farmlands project to make the change, as well! Next week’s addition to the series will be the first springtime farmland imagery this year. In the meantime though, I’ve released two final pieces from the very tail-end of winter.
In “Yankee Farmlands № 59” (at top), antique plows rest silently beside an elaborate, round-roof barn in Eastern Connecticut. With winter drawing to a close, the snows have melted away and soft clouds soar through the blue skies overhead.
If you were to briefly glance at this barn and expansive farm while driving by, it might be difficult to tell that it’s no longer an ordinary commercial operation. Roughly 16 years ago, the last of the previous owners donated the 170-acre farm –barns, machinery and all– for use as a unique “farm museum” where visitors can observe a broad range of both historical and modern farming equipment in use.
“Yankee Farmlands № 58” (immediately above) captures one of winter’s final blows to the Connecticut landscape. Tractor tracks impressed in frozen mud guide us past wagons and wrapped hay bales into a snowy expanse of farmland in Western Connecticut.
For all of the advancements in mechanization that have revolutionized farming over the centuries, the typical hay wagon has actually changed very little. After all, they are basically just cargo trailers for hauling hay… there’s only so much room for innovation beyond improving materials. If you could drop farmers from the early-1800s into a modern farm, machines like tractors, disc plows and balers would be completely foreign to them. Hay wagons might be among the few pieces of heavy equipment that they’d recognize fairly easily.
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Bolstered by rains and recent snowmelts, a frenzied brook (photo at top) races down steep hillsides beneath a leaf-bare canopy. Warmer months lay ahead, but for now, resilient mosses are the only sign of life in this rugged forest.
Small streams, such as this one in the Housatonic Valley with empties into Jackson Cove (photo above), are termed “seasonal brooks” and possess such small watersheds that they nearly run dry between late spring and autumn. Only come late winter and early spring (and possibly after hurricane-level rains) do they snap to life with meltwater and rainfall, swelling to become spirited brooks that eagerly carve their way down from the highlands en route to low-lying river valleys.
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If you follow the work that I release each week, you’ve surely noticed regular installments of my Yankee Farmlands project, essentially an on-going photographic celebration of Connecticut’s agricultural heritage.
I released the first photograph in the series, “Yankee Farmlands № 1”, about 1½ years ago in September of 2014. Later this week, I’ll be rolling out “Yankee Farmlands № 58”. Suffice it to say that this has been a long and enjoyable endeavor and I’m certainly not done yet!
What you may not know is that I end up producing far more work during my travels than I can possibly fit into the formal project series. So, I’ve resolved to release some of these pieces from time to time. I produced this “portrait” at a hilly pasture in Roxbury where I discovered a herd of shaggy Highland Cattle idly grazing away during the final days of autumn last year.
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Against a bucolic backdrop of barns, pastureland and leafless forest, a tapped maple tree at the edge of the farm silently siphons sap into a collection bucket. Delicate clouds glide through blue skies overhead, heralding the arrival of milder weather as spring nears.
While we can’t say for certain when Native Americans living in the northeastern reaches of North America discovered the wonders of maple sap, the practice of collecting and boiling the sap down to a sweet, condensed liquid was already well-established when settlers arrived from Europe in the 1600s.
Although Canada now supplies most of the world’s maple syrup, New England remains the top-producing region in the United States. Vermont alone generates well over a million gallons each year, amounting to more than 5% of the world supply.
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In my newly-released piece, “West Beach Rugged”, the morning sun climbs through heavy, humid air and feathery clouds, ushering in one of the final days of summer along the Connecticut coast. Gentle waves lap at a sandy seashore nearby, breaking upon scattered boulders encrusted with barnacles and seaweed.
The unseasonably warm weather we’ve been having so far this March has me daydreaming about warm beaches already, but I’m sure we’ll get a reality check soon enough!
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