#glocesterlandtrust

[billpichette]

A little fungus, flower, and field showing the start of fall in Rhode Island-Steere Hill Trail

[billpichette]

Unusual-a dry stream-and common-farm stone walls-sights along the Heritage Park/Steere Hill Trail

[billpichette]

A Sunny Afternoon

And I love to live so pleasantly, Live this life of luxury, Lazing on a sunny afternoon - The Kinks

9/28/2014 – It’s hard to imagine how time slips away from me here. In the fall, I had a few days in the city and a visit to the very quiet beaches, and then the holidays were here. As I begin to scramble for job opportunities, searching hundreds every day, and play personal assistant for my Mom, the days are getting shorter and the nights cooler. This weekend turned out to be summer’s last hurrah. Fortunately my niece picked the right time to invite me out for a hike with her and her man (yes, she is a grown woman-didn’t I tell you my family is old?).

There is little public land in this little and crowded state-no forest service or BLM tracts here-but a few smart individuals have managed to set aside a few acres here and there. The Glocester Land Trust is one of them. Founded in 1987, it buys land for preservation within the sprawling town of Glocester, a rural area in western Rhode Island. The section we hiked today was Steere Hill and Phillips Farm. The leisurely two or so miles took us from forested to open land from the parking lot to the fields below the summit of Steere Hill, which were once orchards.  It was kind of odd to see a dry stream bed here, but not so the low stone walls, a hallmark of New England farms. When the farmers began clearing the land, in this case in the 18th and early 19th century, they dug up tons of stone. At some point after cursing the rocky soil, they managed to put the nuisance material to good use, erecting walls around their land. Speaking of walls, as we looped back to the parking area, walking on Rte. 44, we stopped to check out an old house and outbuildings. As I stopped for a picture, someone rudely honked a horn. A few minutes later, a man rode up to us on his ATV and asked what we were doing. Apparently we were trespassing around his old abandoned house which was overgrown and in disrepair. We asked about the place, but he didn’t know how old it was. Apparently the “I honk at photographers” guy called him and said someone was sneaking around the old place. Funny the area was in or near the Village of Harmony. But that’s OK-we were refreshed by the very strong scent of wild grapes along the road as we continued on, hanging in bunches from vines that seemed to be everywhere. It was a great break from my duties and from the city, and a rare occasion when family and food didn’t meet.