Sometimes a simple babbling brook can, through tangential association, lead us unexpectedly into topics of great historical importance.
Though memorial occasions for fallen soldiers had long existed in some form, it was on the heels of Civil War that hallowed days of remembrance arose with great frequency across the American countryside.
Alcatraz Island rises from the fog-laden waters of San Francisco Bay, its sundry array of towers and buildings illumined against the hazy silhouette of distant, coastal hills.
Despite the warm glow of dawn as October comes to a close, icy temperatures more befitting of winter descend upon this cornfield in the hills of Western Connecticut.
As a rainstorm brews in the clouds above, the Pherrins River snakes through the wilds of Northeastern Vermont, concealing a thriving population of sought-after brook trout.
Nestled between the Barndoor Hills, stables and white-fenced pastureland of a picturesque horse ranch contrast with the expansive forests.
When a theology professor out of East Hartford began spending summers at Champlain Point in 1869, the proverbial seed was planted for a change of names.
It’s waterfall season, folks: that exciting window during spring when leaves are out and woodland are running fast.
A scattering of pumpkins and bushels of fresh squash and gourds sit by the roadside beckoning to passersby to visit this farm store in Connecticut’s Quiet Corner.
In the 1830s, J. W. Barber described Salisbury not only as a farming community, but also as being “much celebrated for its very rich and productive iron mines”.
Bristling with some 6,000 acres of woodlands in Norfolk and Canaan, Great Mountain Forest is a unique expanse of wildlands within Connecticut’s Northwest Hills.
Given that the treasured Connecticut Field Pumpkin is America’s traditional variety, it’s only fitting that they would enjoy a strong foothold in the Nutmeg State.