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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Rings of Northgate

Rings of Northgate (Northgate Falls, Simsbury, Connecticut)
“Rings of Northgate”
Northgate Fall, Simsbury, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

In my latest piece, “Rings of Northgate”, foam churns away at the foot of Northgate Falls, swirling ceaselessly amidst a shallow, mossy gorge beneath woodlands in the northwest of Simsbury.

Even fairly small waterfalls such as this one, found along a nameless branch of Bissell Brook, were a boon to settlers as they migrated throughout the wilds of Connecticut in the early days. The hollow that was formed when a brook descended abruptly into gorge meant that a relatively small dam could impound plenty of water to operate a stream-side mill.

After discovering old fieldstone retaining walls lining the gorge at Northgate Falls, my curiosity was piqued. I used computer software to carefully overlay a hand-drawn map of Simsbury from 1868 upon modern satellite imagery. Sure enough, the 19th-century map shows a dammed pond labelled “Saw Mill” at the exact location of Northgate Falls; it’s likely that the mill site was already quite old even at that time.

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New Print Releases The American Northeast

Deadwood at Goldmine Brook Falls

Deadwood at Goldmine (Goldmine Brook Falls, Chester, Massachusetts)
“Deadwood at Goldmine”
Goldmine Brook Falls at Chester-Blandford State Forest, Chester, Massachusetts
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

Bark peels from the trunk of a fallen birch wedged into the boulders of a gorge in Western Massachusetts. Just ahead, Goldmine Brook Falls descends 40 feet into the ravine amidst ancient, weathered rock faces softened by jackets of moss.

Drive through the quiet, wooded town of Chester, Massachusetts where I produced “Deadwood at Goldmine” (at top) and it might seem hard to believe that area was historically bustling with mines of all sorts. First came the early iron mines; later, in the mid-1800s, a somewhat rare, abrasive mineral known as emery became the object of commercial efforts. Yet the name “Goldmine Brook” is still a bit puzzling, since there doesn’t seem to be any record of sincere attempts at mining the precious metal at any point in Chester’s past.

While there is undoubtedly gold in the valleys of Western Massachusetts, it’s been scattered too broadly and too thinly upon the landscape by the prehistoric advance and retreat of glaciers. Suffice it to say, the amount of gold you might get after a day of panning a creek in Southern New England wouldn’t even cover the cost of driving home.

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Click here to visit my landing page for “Deadwood at Goldmine” to buy a beautiful fine art print or inquire about licensing this image.

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Be sure to check out all of my work from Chester-Blandford State Forest.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Okumsett Fringe

Okumsett Fringe (Glen Falls near Okumsett Preserve, Portland, Connecticut)
“Okumsett Fringe”
Glen Falls near Okumsett Preserve, Portland, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

In my new release, “Okumsett Preserve”, Glen Falls glows with whitewater as it careens over a sheer, 20-foot ledge, plunging Cobalt Stream into a shallow, woodland oasis lined by mossy cliffs, gravel beds and swaying ferns.

As early as the mid-1600s, the lands surrounding the mile-long Cobalt Stream were firmly believed to be rich in various ores and precious metals. Connecticut’s first governor, John Winthrop, laid claim to some 800 acres in the area and legends tell of him camping out in the hills, assiduously mining gold and casting rings that he would carry back to his home in New London. The territory consequently received the nickname, “The Governor’s Ring”.

Generation after generation of enterprising men made countless attempts to mine the Governor’s Ring for about 200 years. Some sought gold and silver, while others set their sights toward cobalt and lead. Except for occasional veins of cobalt, most of these operations proved fruitless. By 1844, a Connecticut geology professor finally summed up two centuries of unproductive mining around Cobalt Stream: “it is a curious fact, that after all that has been done in this mine, very little is really known to the public as to the worth of the minerals located there, and whether it could be worked to any profit.”

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Tierney Springtime

Tierney Springtime (Jack's Brook at Brian E. Tierney Preserve, Roxbury, Connecticut)
“Tierney Springtime”
Jack’s Brook at Brian E. Tierney Preserve, Roxbury, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

My new release from the Brian E. Tierney Preserve, “Tierney Springtime”, brings you into the wooded hills of Roxbury in Western Connecticut. Jack’s Brook, a lively tributary of the Shepaug River, is found snaking through a rock-strewn glen in the faint morning twilight as broad, verdant leaves of riverside skunk cabbage jostle in the breeze.

Although the lush greenery of skunk cabbage is a refreshing sign of spring, anybody that has traipsed through patches of this plant in the wetlands as a child is all too familiar with the potent stench of its sap. That foul odor, not surprisingly, inspired the comparison to the rank odor unleashed by frightened skunks. Luckily, the stench of skunk cabbage isn’t quite as noxious and doesn’t linger nearly as long as that of an actual skunk, but it’s unpleasant just the same.

In spite of its unfortunate reputation, eastern skunk cabbage is actually a quite remarkable plant which is expertly adapted to the climatic extremes of New England. Beginning as early as January and February, the mottled flower hoods of skunk cabbage can be found melting through the snow and ice on their wetland habitat. That’s right: skunk cabbage is one of the rare plants that is able to generate it’s own heat, sometimes in excess of 20° to 30°F above that of the surrounding air. This incredible ability affords it the opportunity to push its flowers up in late winter in order to draw pollinating insects before its competitors have so much as sprouted. And believe it or not, even that offensive odor serves a very clever purpose. Since the smell roughly resembles that of rotting plants and animals, it attracts flies and similar insects that emerge very early in the year and pollinate the flowers of the skunk cabbage.

The Falls at Tierney (Jack's Brook Cascades at Brian E. Tierney Preserve, Roxbury, Connecticut)
“The Falls at Tierney”
Jack’s Brook Cascades at Brian E. Tierney Preserve, Roxbury, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

But truth be told, finding this natural garden of springtime foliage was actually just a welcome bonus along the route to my planned destination. The sight that had drawn me out to Tierney Preserve to begin with was a waterfall locally known as The Cascades which was mentioned in Russell Dunn’s book, Connecticut Waterfalls: A Guide. He had opted to prepend that generic name with the name of the brook upon which the 15-foot falls are formed, thus making them Jack’s Brook Cascades. You can see this waterfall in my new piece, “The Falls at Tierney” (above), where they weave through a rocky, woodland gorge in the faint morning light filtering down through the springtime canopy.

From a purely technical perspective, the waterfall really is more of a steep, spirited cascade. But I can understand why Dunn included it in his waterfall guide, since Jack’s Brook Cascades are every bit a waterfall by aesthetic standards. That is to say, it simply feels like a waterfall. Suffice it to say, you can expect to see “The Falls at Tierney” added to my ever-growing Waterfalls of Connecticut collection, which I urge you to check out at connecticutfalls.com if you haven’t visited lately. I’ve added a few more waterfalls over the course of the past season, so you’ll probably find something new.

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Click here to visit my landing page for “Tierney Springtime” to buy a beautiful fine art print or inquire about licensing this image.

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Check out more of Connecticut’s exquisite waterfalls at my Waterfalls of Connecticut collection.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Heart of the Old Mill

Heart of the Old Mill (Mill Pond Falls, Mill Pond Park, Newington, Connecticut)
“Heart of the Old Mill”
Mill Pond Falls on Mill Brook, Mill Pond Park, Newington, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

In my new piece, “Heart of the Old Mill”, Mill Pond Falls slips over a shadow-cloaked ledge, its frigid cascades churning to whitewater as it skips over time-worn stone. Above the precipice of the falls, dawn casts warm, sharp light upon a footbridge and snowy woodlands nearby.

Nestled within the center of Newington, Mill Pond Falls is certainly one of Connecticut’s lesser waterfalls at perhaps just 12 to 15 feet in height. Still, the town’s claim that it’s the “smallest natural waterfall in the United States” is no less perplexing.

But while Mill Pond Falls may measure a bit short, it is arguably more beloved than most waterfalls that are several times larger. Each year it is the centerpiece of the “Newington Waterfall Festival” and its cascades are even featured prominently on the town seal! Why so much fanfare over such a diminutive waterfall? During the earliest era of its settlement between the late 1600s and mid-1700s, Newington’s fledging economy was wholly dependent upon these falls to power a local sawmill. So if not for this tiny waterfall, its safe to say that the old colonial village of Newington may have vanished from the map centuries ago.

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Click here to visit my the landing page for “Heart of the Old Mill” to buy a beautiful fine art print or inquire about rights-managed licensing for this image.

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Be sure to stop by my Waterfalls of Connecticut website to see my photography from a broad range of Connecticut’s exquisite waterfalls.

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New Print Releases The American Northeast

Falls of the Mianus Gorge

Havemeyer Fallscape (Havemeyer Falls, Mianus River Gorge Preserve, Bedford, New York)
“Havemeyer Fallscape”
Havemeyer Falls on Havemeyer Brook,
Mianus River Gorge Preserve, Bedford, New York
© 2014 J. G. Coleman

In 1955, its protection became the goal of the very first land project undertaken by The Nature Conservancy. By 1968, it was the first location in the United States to be federally-recognized as a National Natural Landmark by the National Park Service. It is home to towering hemlocks so ancient that they were already a century old when the American Revolution came to a close. But if all of these facts about the Mianus River Gorge Preserve are surprising, perhaps the most unbelievable part is that this 760-acre nature preserve is sprawled out across a handful of suburban towns just 30 miles from the streets of New York City!

My latest work from this unique preserve showcases some of the superb scenery which is characteristic of the wildlands of the American Northeast. In my piece, “Havemeyer Fallscape” (at top), the pristine waters of Havemeyer Brook leap eagerly over a forest-crowded ledge, dodging downed trees and boulders en route to a confluence with the Mianus River.

Winding Like the River (Mianus River Gorge Preserve, Bedford, New York)
“Winding Like the River”
Mianus River Gorge Preserve, Bedford, New York
© 2014 J. G. Coleman

Among my newer works from this preserve is also “Winding Like the River” (above), which portrays one of the time-worn hiking trails that weaves through the shadowy woodlands just uphill of the Mianus River Gorge. As I walked upon this particular stretch of trail, I realized that slipped through the forest in broad, serpentine bends with much the same grace as the Mianus River itself weaved its own course at the bottom of the gorge nearby.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases

The Pride of Old Woodbridge

The Pride of Old Woodbridge (Sperry Falls on Sargent River, Sperry Park, Woodbridge, CT)

It’s difficult to overstate the degree to which life in Connecticut has changed since 1907. For instance, big cities such as Hartford and New Haven probably had limited access to electricity at that time, but it would be at least a decade before such a luxury appeared in the average Connecticut household. Folks of that era still had to light their houses at night by candle or lamp, heat their homes with wood and quarry their their ice from nearby lakes. The state was criss-crossed only by rough dirt roads and rails; local travel was by horse or horse-drawn carraige, while longer trips were by train. For the ordinary resident of Connecticut, travel was by no means impossible, but it was still difficult enough that you didn’t tend to leave town for the day unless their was a good reason to do so. Most people spent most of their waking lives within just a few miles of their home.

Gorge on the Sargent River (Sperry Falls on Sargent River, Sperry Park, Woodbridge, CT)

But why do I refer specifically to 1907? Well, that was the year that Sperry Park, the subject of my newly-released work, was created in the rural town of Woodbridge, Connecticut. And the reason that I’ve offered an account of life during that era is because we probably need a bit of context these days to understand why a small place like Sperry Park, at a size of only 4 acres, was once a celebrated town landmark.

My piece, The Pride of Old Woodbridge (above), brings us to the aesthetic heart of Sperry Park: a calm, shady pool in the woods where the Sargent River is cleft into two sister waterfalls as it plunges some 6 feet over a shelf of weather-beaten bedrock. Hardy shrubs and trees grasp the faces of bare stone which rise from the river gorge and transition seamlessly into hilly forests blanketed by leaf litter. A few more of my pieces from Sperry Park are portrayed here, as well, so you can really get a feel for this lovely woodland oasis.

If Sperry Park strikes you as an exceptional place for a tranquil retreat into nature, then you can probably get a sense of why Nehemiah Sperry decided to donate this four-acre parcel of his family’s ancestral land to the Town of Woodbridge in 1907. At that time, he was an 80-year-old US Congressman and there must have been times that his memories drifted fondly to the old farm where he had grown up in the 1830s. For that matter, Sperry Falls had been passed down in the Sperry Family from generation to generation for nearly two centuries. In protecting a piece of that land as a park, Nehemiah was preserving the waterfalls that had been at the heart of Sperry family heritage for as far back as anybody could remember.

Nehemiah's Gift (Sperry Falls on Sargent River, Sperry Park, Woodbridge, CT)

Of course, in modern times, a four-acre nature preserve seems awfully small. Indeed, it was not the sort of park where one could go hiking for hours on end, but then again, that wasn’t really what the people of Woodbridge needed. In the early years of the 20th-century, when life for the folks living in rural Woodbridge was centered mostly around town, Sperry Park was truly a treasured place where locals could go to relax and unwind without the difficulty of distant travel. Many publications from that era extolled the virtues of Sperry Park, with one hailing it as “the most celebrated natural feature of the town.”

In 1911, just a few years after donating Sperry Park to the town, Nehemiah passed away. Around the same time as his death, there also began the incidental decline of that rural way of life which he had known throughout the 19th-century. The famous Ford Model T had been introduced in 1908 and, by the 1920s, the price of automobiles had fallen to levels at which even ordinary middle class families could afford them. By the 1930s and 40s, it was easy for the people of Woodbridge to leave town for leisure. Amidst the flurry of changing times and a world that was growing ever smaller, Sperry Park was largely forgotten.

Woodland Violets (Sperry Falls on Sargent River, Sperry Park, Woodbridge, CT)

These days, the tiny park lies nestled within the vast, woodland watershed area of a few reservoirs in eastern Woodbridge. The public is still welcome to visit —a fact that would certainly make old Nehemiah proud— but few people venture out to see it anymore. As much as Sperry Park is a historic treasure to Woodbridge, it’s overall remoteness and proximity to public water supplies surely make it something of a liability, too. The result is that the park is quietly kept open for those rare few who learn of it by word of mouth or who stumble upon it while perusing a map. And, in truth, maybe that’s a good thing. A small, out-of-the-way park like Sperry simply cannot exist in this day in age unless its visitors bring along a healthy measure of respect for the landscape and a mindfulness that the origins of this place stretch deeply into the past… back to a simpler time when a few tranquil waterfalls on the Sargent River were the truly the pride of old Woodbridge.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases

Winter on the Eightmile

Winter on the Eightmile (Southford Falls State Park, Southbury, Connecticut)
“Winter on the Eightmile”
Southford Falls on Eightmile Brook, Southford Falls State Park, Southbury, Connecticut
© 2014 J. G. Coleman

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says ‘Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'”

-Lewis Carroll
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865)

As we move into the month of March here in Connecticut, the sentiment among most folks is that we’ve had more than our fill of winter. Temperatures have remained anchored below freezing in spite of our advance towards springtime and we’ve found ourselves knee-deep in a persistent snowpack that has certainly overstayed its welcome.

I’ve observed that we here in Connecticut have an interesting relationship with winter. We are charmed by the aesthetic range of our landscape as it transitions from the dazzling displays of autumn to the contemplative dormancy of winter. But, without fail, early March finds us increasingly eager to escape the frigid temperatures and meager daylight that we’ve endured for months on end. Our winter wonderland starts to feel more like a winter wasteland, and in spite of our experience and good sense, there brews in the back of our minds an irrational concern that the snows might never melt and the trees might never again bear leaves.

But with my new work, Winter on Eightmile Brook (above), I challenge us all to put aside our quarrels with the frigid weather, even if it’s only for a moment! Produced in Connecticut just last month, this piece brings us to the foot of Southford Falls where Eightmile Brook plunges a dozen feet before meandering through a snowy gorge that straddles the borders of Southbury and Oxford. The Sun hangs low on the horizon, peeking through the woodland canopy and imparting a feeling of warmth, even if there’s little it can do to banish the frigid air that has pooled in the gorge overnight. Winter on Eightmile Brook embraces all the icy bitterness of our tough winter and seeks to find something comforting —perhaps even inviting— in nature’s patient hibernation.

And don’t worry, friends… springtime is right around the corner!

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As part of J. G. Coleman’s Decor Series prints, all of the works seen here are available at Fine Art America. You are encouraged to visit J. G. Coleman’s Fine Art America eStore, or see all of Fine Art America’s snow art or forest art.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases

Plymouth Wildlands

Plymouth Wildlands (Buttermilk Falls, Buttermilk Falls Preserve, Plymouth, Connecticut)
“Plymouth Wildlands”
Buttermilk Falls on Hancock Brook,
Buttermilk Falls Preserve, Plymouth, Connecticut
©2013 J. G. Coleman

“The tempered light of the woods is like a perpetual morning, and is stimulating and heroic. The anciently reported spells of these places creep on us. The stems of pines, hemlocks, and oaks, almost gleam like iron on the excited eye.”

-Ralph Waldo Emerson (1844)

Nestled in the forests of Plymouth within Connecticut’s Central Naugatuck Valley, Buttermilk Falls Preserve is among those small and relatively obscure nature preserves that most of us will never set foot upon. It’s not that there’s anything stopping us, mind you; the public is welcome anytime to visit this shady grove of hemlocks that crowd the boulder-laden banks of Hancock Brook. It’s simply that, at a size of only a dozen acres, folks tend to assume that this diminutive swath of open space is just not worth the trip.

As part of my years-long project to capture in photographs the aesthetic essence of Connecticut’s waterfalls, I became familiar with Buttermilk Falls Preserve in the Summer of 2011. In fact, I was so impressed with its incredible beauty and arresting atmosphere that I’ve returned several times since then. My goal has been simple: to catch conditions that help me tell the story of this jewel in a way that is befitting of the magical impression it makes upon its visitors. As it would happen, I managed to get out to the Preserve on an early May morning last year as a dense fog drifted through the forest, producing subtle tones and contrasts that brought to the surface what Emerson would have called the “anciently reported spells” that linger in the wilds of Buttermilk Falls.

Hymn of the Hemlocks (Hancock Brook, Buttermilk Falls Preserve, Plymouth, CT)
“Hymn of the Hemlocks”
Hancock Brook, Buttermilk Falls Preserve, Plymouth, Connecticut
©2014 J. G. Coleman

One of the pieces that emerged from that morning, Plymouth Wildlands (photo at top), brings us to a magnificent whitewater cataract on Hancock Brook. Plummeting more than 50 feet over a steep rock face, Buttermilk Falls is the namesake landmark of the Preserve, as well as its aesthetic epicenter. This glade feels like some verdant amphitheater where soft light filters through the greenery of the hemlocks overhead and every surface of the forest understory lays cloaked in a generous blanket of moss and ferns.

Another of my works, Hymn of the Hemlocks (above), takes us upstream from the falls and into the imposing vertical expanse of the seemingly primeval woodlands that envelop Hancock Brook. We find ourselves surrounded by towering hemlocks, most perched mightily upon bare rock, that cast whorls of wizened branches into the air as they reach skywards from the shadowy gorge for a taste of precious sunlight.

Hancock Cascades (Hancock Brook at Buttermilk Falls Preserve, Plymouth, Connecticut)
“Hancock Cascades”
Hancock Brook at Buttermilk Falls Preserve, Plymouth, Connecticut
©2013 J. G. Coleman

Finally, in Hancock Cascades, we find ourselves squarely in the middle of Hancock Brook, almost as if we are wading barefoot in its cool waters. Peering ahead, we watch the stream spread and splinter into myriad cascades as it struggles to clear ancient boulders and weather-scarred bedrock. Wherever the water cannot reach, the mosses have staked their claim, thriving amidst the cool, moist air that settles in troughs of the gorge.

Rendered in a written chronology, the story of Buttermilk Falls is long and varied. People have enacted their influence upon this place for centuries, if not millennia, and there’s little doubt that the landscape has been shaped and re-shaped by the rigors of time and water. But for me, all of those disparate verses of bygone times found a focused voice in the tranquil mists that drifted over Hancock Brook on a quiet morning in May.

Want to See More?

To see more of my work from Buttermilk Falls or buy a fine art print of the pieces introduced here, be sure to visit the Buttermilk Falls collection at my online galleries.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases

Grayville Everlasting

Grayville Everlasting (Grayville Falls, Hebron, Connecticut)
“Grayville Everlasting”
Grayville Falls Park, Hebron, Connecticut
©2014 J. G. Coleman

“A brook there is all children know,
Upon whose banks the wild flowers grow;
A brook that from its hill runs down,
And wanders wanders past the town.”

-Susan Pendleton
“Hebron” (1908)

Grayville Falls is a hidden gem nestled in the wooded wildlands of Hebron, a small town which bridges the low-lying Connecticut River Valley to its west and the hilly uplands of Connecticut’s “Quiet Corner” to its east. Although these falls had been on my must-see list for a few years, my attention was somehow routinely pulled elsewhere even as I passed within only a few miles on my way to shoot at more distant locations. It wasn’t until last summer when I finally managed to get out to the forests of Hebron on a warm July morning to visit Grayville Falls for the first time.

Grayville Everlasting (above), one of my pieces from that shoot, embraces the essence of these tranquil cascades on Raymond Brook, beginning with their steady persistence. Over thousands of years, Grayville Falls has ceaselessly carved its way deeper and deeper through several feet of stratified bedrock, leaving shadowy recesses along the periphery of the brook where weaker layers of stone have been gouged out by running water.

Grayville Riverscape (Grayville Falls, Hebron, Connecticut)
“Grayville Riverscape”
Grayville Falls Park, Hebron, Connecticut
© 2014 J. G. Coleman

There’s also a measure of human history to be found at Grayville Falls, as evidenced by the remnants of a large boulder dam that rises over the cascades in Grayville Everlasting. In Hebron’s earlier days, when industry was still tethered to water power as the sole means of animating machinery, William Gray operated a carpet factory along the banks of Raymond Brook. The dam ruins we find today suggest that Gray utilized a fairly crude dam constructed of boulders and earthen mortar to impound several thousands of gallons of water upstream, ensuring that his factory could run even during dry spells.

Interestingly, old William Gray wouldn’t have recognized the name “Grayville Falls” during his lifetime. That name didn’t appear until the 1970s, when Hebron purchased the property for use as parkland and held a town-wide contest to determine what it would be called. “Grayville Falls Park” emerged as the winning name; a clever tip of the hat to a man that might otherwise have been lost to history.

Want to See More?

To buy a fine art print of the pieces introduced here, or view more work for this location, be sure to visit Grayville Falls Park at my online galleries.

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All Things Connecticut

Winter on Big Falls

Winter on Big Falls (Wadsworth Falls State Park, Middlefield, Connecticut)
"Winter on Big Falls"
Wadsworth Falls State Park, Middlefield, Connecticut
© 2012 J. G. Coleman

Central Connecticut is oftentimes thought of as a portion of the state where there is a bare minimum of natural wonders to be seen. There’s little doubt that the wide breadth of the Connecticut River, for example, must have been quite a sight to behold for Native Americans and early European settlers alike, though modern times seem to have found that mighty stretch of water crowded with civilization. However, upon visiting a place like Wadsworth Falls State Park, you might just reconsider the possibilities for finding beauty in even the most densely-populated regions of Connecticut.

Wadsworth Falls State Park straddles the border between the towns of Middletown and Middlefield and has much to offer in the way of natural splendor despite its proximity to the crowded Connecticut River Valley. Not surprisingly, Wadsworth Falls is the single most notable feature of the entire park and the landmark from which the park draws its name. Truly one of our state’s most beautiful waterfalls, Wadsworth Falls dumps the Coginchaug River down a steep, 30-foot cliff of weathered traprock.

My latest piece from Wadsworth Falls State Park, “Winter on Big Falls”, captures the essence of New England winters bundled with the raw power of the river as it crashes over the falls on its way to calmer waters downstream. Amidst a landscape enveloped in fresh snow, huge sheets of fragmented ice drift rhythmically in the current, occasionally being crushed by torrents of frigid water if they stray to closely to the falls.

“Big Falls”, if you were wondering, is something of a nickname for Wadsworth Falls. It derives from the fact that a second waterfall can be found in the interior of Wadsworth Falls State Park. Much smaller and considerably less powerful than Wadsworth Falls, this additional waterfall was at some point given the name “Little Falls”. I can only imagine that those who were familiar with both of these waterfalls needed some way to differentiate between the two, and it naturally occurred to them to refer to the duo as “Big Falls” and “Little Falls”.

If you enjoyed “Winter on Big Falls”, be sure to take a look at some of my other fine art prints from Wadsworth Falls State Park such as “Little Falls at Wadsworth” and “Fishermen at the Falls”.

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