Month: June 2013

Waking up extra-early in a strange place with a Brompton is only an advantage.  Basil and I were out the door in ten minutes after a quick night’s sleep in Williamstown, Massachusetts, on a recent trip.

The light was marvelous on what turned out to be another exceptionally beautiful day.

There can’t be much doubt about which direction this side of Williams College’s Southworth Schoolhouse faces:

I thought this was a fairly uninteresting edifice, except that I love brick, of course.  However, check out this peculiar detail :

Someone with either really bad taste (or, perhaps, a sense of humor) has added a faux column to the corners, with a odd little capital at the top, and an strange little base below.  It’s class-on-a-shoestring!  Or, anyway, an attempt at it.

The neighborhood around Williams is dotted with homes with large porches.  Does anyone sit on porches any more?  I imagine that air-conditioning — and computers — have probably nearly eradicated that once ubiquitous pastime.

When the illumination was just right, these windows mirrored the sky perfectly.

There was very little traffic and few people were stirring at this time on this particular weekday morning, and, correspondingly,very little noise. I was startled when Basil and I were crossing a street and the bell in this tower chimed the quarter-hour.

I took this shot because the house and garage are so quirky and so beautifully maintained — and because that central section is practically a turret, in keeping with a recurring Williams College theme.

Later I realized what was really unusual about this image:  I think the vehicle is a Honda. That’s notable because Williamstown is nearly wall-to-wall (shoulder-to-shoulder?) with Subarus.  No kidding; the Subaru dealer must be as flush as Midas. But why not? They’re excellent four-season vehicles, and their owners tend to be very loyal to the brand.

After our leisurely turn around town, Basil and I returned to the inn, relaxed and refreshed, to prepare for the day. I am not a morning person, but my Brompton has changed my life  — literally, it seems.  And so much for the better . . .

At the end of our first ride in Williamstown, Basil and I returned to our inn, then rode past, away from town, in search of a grocery store. Much to the pleasure of the one of us who was hungry, we found an upscale co-op.

This meant that cheese was undoubtedly on hand. Not only that, but it would probably be local cheese.

But imagine our surprise when we entered the store and saw this display:

This little orange beauty is a Citizen Tokyo, an inexpensive folder which is, nonetheless, equipped with six speeds, just like Basil (though without Brompton’s BWR hub).

Naturally, Basil posed with his new-found compatriot, though in trolley mode, as space below ceiling-level was limited. (So was light, unfortunately!)

We filled up Basil’s small green bag with Vermont blue goat cheese and a bunch of local hard ciders to take home to Mr. Diarist.  Then we headed back to the inn for a light repast and a good night’s sleep.

Williamstown, Massachusetts is the home of Williams College, an elite school with a history going back about as far as formal history does in the United States. As you’d expect, then, the emphasis is on academic study, not athletics.

But sports are played.  This is the gate to an athletic field, in keeping, as you’d hope, with the appearance, at least, of the venerable construction of Williams’s early days.

The plaque says, enticingly, “Gargoyle Gate”, but I couldn’t find the gargoyle.

However, the metal portion of the gate was as pleasing as the stone, even without gargoyles:

The ancient (by North American standards) hasp and bar are still in place, but secured by a decidedly modern padlock.  If not secured by the padlock or something similar, the bar can be lifted completely off the gate.

The hinge isn’t at the point where the separate halves join; it’s what allows the end of the bar to fold over the loop that, in combination with the hook above, holds the bar in place and  level.

The bar is warped now, and no longer hooks as it should, at the other side, once the gate is closed.

At the end of the bar, the grip is impressively lethal looking, with that spike-like finial threatening serious violence to anyone imprudent enough to fall against it.

Basil admired the intricacy of the pattern.  Old technology and new:  Metal, it’s lovely stuff!

Basil, my Brompton bicycle, and I took a quick tour around Williamstown, Massachusetts when we first arrived, not pausing, I’m afraid, to identify the buildings we encountered.

This, however, is the First Congregational Church. There may be a law requiring one First Congregational Church in every New England town.

I admit to preferring the classic church and steeple to this creation, which looks a lot like a cross between a California mission and something gothic-gone-wrong.  Variety is good, though; I like variety.

Turrets are a recurring theme in Williamstown architecture; though there’s less ivy than you might think.  The ivy is a treat for the eye, but death on walls.  Still, a college must have some, whether the school is technically Ivy League or not.

If you want something approximating New England Gothic, that’s here, too. The lines are a bit cleaner, and the ornamentation more sparse, than on similar structures in Europe.  Also: no gargoyles.

Is modern art just not my thing?  The structures scattered next to the Williams College Museum of Art did not thrill me, even though I’m rather pre-disposed to love metal.

I’m afraid these just seem creepy to me. Nestling a single eyeball in the landscape doesn’t help a bit. (NSA, are you calling me?)  These pieces seem too whimsical to me to make a serious statement about being observed, and too aggressive to claim that isn’t the goal.

This sign amused me, so Basil and I attempted to stop in to pick up a comestible, only to discover that the business had closed up.

A sign in the window said that there had been a store there for 168 years, but now the space is empty.  In fact, there were empty store fronts all along Spring Street.  Were some seasonal casualties? Or do even the students shop elsewhere when they’re here?

Well, almost.  Here’s the cottage, no taller than I am, encountered in Willilamstown, Massachusetts:

and here’s the barn hen house:

They are right next to each other. Gotta love New England gentry farmers and their clever, crafty ways!

Basil and I took a trip to Williamstown, Massachusetts, recently.  We arrived earlier than expected, so we set out exploring.  Almost immediately, we encountered this building, destined (or so claimed the sign on the side) for conversion to “luxury condominiums”.   They’re “now selling”, but it didn’t look as if there was a lot of conversion action going on.

Which hardly mattered: For visceral eye-appeal, it’s hard to beat ivy on bricks.

Look at that sky!  It was like that the entire trip — just stunningly beautiful.

We took off down the two-lane highway that leads into (and out of) town, cycling next to flowing water virtually all the way.

Small rapids form as the water rushes over rocks and stones in the stream bed, which created a blissful background to the gentle clicking of Basil’s rear hub.  We arrived after Williams College’s 2013 graduation festivities, so there was little in the way of traffic or other human distraction to compete with either the burbling of the waters or the enthusiastic tweets of birds.

We crossed over the water, but not without stopping to admire the bridge, whose railings seemed very contemporary, but whose rusty girders blend organically with the surroundings.  I’m a sucker for the stones of New England, so the supports on either end were quite pleasing to my eye, too.

I’m a northern Californian at heart, but I love the ubiquitous visual pleasures  offered in so many New England landscapes.  Small stone structures, like the one above, for instance, turn up frequently, as do others like this unexpected wall, below, that doesn’t really go anywhere, or define anything but itself.

Basil waited patiently while I hopped the guardrail and snapped a few pictures.

We turned off the highway onto a smaller asphalt road, but that became packed dirt shortly thereafter, and I turned around. The area was rapidly becoming quite rural, and I was more comfortable staying closer to town in this unfamiliar geography.

Our eastern home grounds are lush, but not quite as lush as this part of the Berkshires, at least this year.

Trees are quite tall, and the mountains loom, so shadows form well before evening.

My trusty point-and-shoot was never able to capture any real sense of the scope of the landscape rising all around the area.

But it did capture this island in the stream . . .

We went on to explore town and campus, but that’s a post for another day.