Jackie Miller - Mother of the Groom.
For me, Hawley was a place where family and friends would come to share its beauty and the joy of being together: to talk, walk, read, cook, play games, of just sit quietly, and to experience the pleasures of each season - the first snows of winter, the greening of spring, the bounty and bonfires of summer, and of course the flaming colors of autumn.
Hawley
Written by Jackie Miller & Bryan Roberts
Hawley has been a part of our family’s life for a long time. We purchased it in 1992; Thea was 17, Max 6, and Huw 5. As much as we loved our Cambridge home, we felt we all needed to get out of the city and enjoy the freedom and quiet of the countryside. Our summers on Crooked Pond reinforced the restorative nature of getting away from everyday life and the value of change.
Our six acres stretched from the culvert along Rt. 8A to a strip across the Chickley River, bordering on the Hawley State Forest. The actual width of the property was never clear but seemed to go from the hill rising to the meadow south and north to just behind a small cottage (or “camp” as such structures are called in New England).
The actual boundaries never really mattered; it was what lay within those borders that made Hawley the “happy valley” one of us dubbed it.
Birch, oak, sycamore, and maple trees covered the property, interlaced with trails leading to nowhere. A large meadow area provided space for a vegetable garden. The rock studded Chickley, which ranged from a trickle to a raging torrent depending on the season, augmented beauty to the area and promised swimming, tadpole hunting, rock jumping, boat races, and a quiet retreat.
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Jackie enjoying the Chickley river.
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A quiet retreat
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The rock studded Chickley.
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Hawley the “happy valley”.
In addition to the camp, our purchase included a large, unfinished barnlike structure, a tool shed and the requisite outhouse. We spent the first summer camping out in the camp, which consisted of two small bedrooms, a bathroom (thank goodness) and a sunny, open room with a rudimentary kitchen, wood stove, and living space. Multiple old windows provided a dappled view of the river through the trees.
Lack of insulation in the camp and the need for living more space hastened the move into the “big house” even before the start of construction to turn the barn into a home. The camp remained as a place to play and hangout. Thea, to our amazement, spent one summer sleeping there, despite its isolation from the main house, her only companion being “ghost cat”, who would visit her in the darkness, occasionally leaving rodent offerings on her bed. We supposed this demonstrated the lengths a big sister would go to in order to escape her pesky little brothers. Jackie’s dream was to convert the camp into a retreat for artists, writers, and anyone needing an escape to think and create. Our insurance company, however, had other ideas. Instability of the structure forced us to take it down or lose our insurance. Huw’s skill with a sledge hammer summarily demolished the camp. Jackie insisted that the old windows be saved, to what end unclear.
Our first winter was spent camping out on the second floor of the barn. The barn was a work in progress when we bought Hawley. The first floor was an unfinished open space with stairs leading to the upper level. The second floor consisted of two rooms with wooden doors at one end and sliding doors at the other end. If you opened either of the doors you could step out into nothingness, a sheer drop down to the ground. The other hazard life threatening to two rambunctious small boys was an uninsulated wood stove that glowed red when hot enough to warm the upstairs.
With the doors fastened tight, warnings sternly delivered about the glowing stove, and a chemical toilet under the stairs we danced, played games, and read through that first winter.
The winter was also spent drawing up plans for the house and construction on the interior began. The house would consist of a large open area on the first floor with a kitchen, living room, and dining nook, an (indoor) bathroom, and an attached garage. The second floor would have two bedrooms with skylights and built in dressers and bookcases. The wooden doors were replaced with windows in the boys’ room. The sliding doors opened to a double decker porch off Jackie and Bryan’s bedroom. A small covered porch led to the outside from the first floor. By autumn the following year Mark Ledwell and his crew had completed the work and we were ready for our first Thanksgiving in Hawley.
Loaded down with food for the feast we entered the house to wonder at the gleaming wooden floors and beams. And also to wonder how Mark had overlooked the need for an oven in the kitchen. Hunger also being the Mother of invention Jackie prepared all the side dishes on the stove in the camp (which had no oven), listening to Alice’s Restaurant as she cooked, while Bryan figured out how to cook a 15 pound turkey on a small hibachi using lots of aluminum foil. It was all delicious and marked the beginning of many Thanksgivings in Hawley with friends and family….and a functional oven.
But many others found space to nap including Max, the dogs, and Jason Brown
But many others found space to nap including Max, the dogs, and Jason Brown
A major piece of Hawley furniture was the Couch. Positioned in front of a well insulated wood and coal stove that was mounted on a stone plinth hand built by Jackie and Bryan, the Couch became the focal point of our life in Hawley, particularly in the cooler seasons. Many hours were spent on the Couch reading, talking, and sleeping. As time went on it seemed that Huw spent much of his time in Hawley power napping on the Couch.
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Max.
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Zoe.
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Huw & Jason Brown.
After almost 30 years of service not only as a sleeping place for many but also as a mouse hotel when we weren’t around, a scratching post for the cat when we were around, and an archeological repository of the many meals and snacks eaten on it, the time came for the Couch to go, for hygienic and comfort reasons. But you don’t just throw the Couch, practically a family member, into the dumpster. Its retirement required a ceremonial departure. This took the form of a final tour to places the Couch had never been before. The Couch was hitched to the truck and, with family members seated on it for its final journey, the Couch was dragged around the property, along the river, up to the garden, and across the lawn to its final resting place in a luxury dumpster. Farewell, Couch, ye served us well.
Gardening was one of the first major projects for Hawley. The large open meadow seemed the perfect place to put our vegetable garden. The first step was to build a fence to demarcate the garden from the woods. A posthole digger was rented from Home Depot. We finally figured out how it worked when we dug our final hole. Slow learning curve, that. The fence was also to serve as a barrier to deer and other critters. However, failure to block entrance by adding a gate to the garden meant that for many years we shared our bounty with any animal smart enough to wander into our ungated garden. Another slow learning curve. Nonetheless, the garden provided substantial yields of tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, cabbages, and lettuce over the years to feed all animals, human and otherwise.
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Max grew his first pumpkin in this garden.
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The herb garden was Jackie’s favorite, both for the yield of oregano, thyme, lemon balm, basil, sage, and chives, and for the pure pleasure of the smells on a hot summer day.
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Eventually the garden moved from in-ground to planters, which made access, watering, and weeding far easier and proved to be a very productive form of gardening.
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Over the years the house expanded. 1998 saw major changes in the first floor; additions included a bedroom and bath, a dining room, a sunroom, a mudroom, and a room (the Jamaica room) connecting the kitchen to a big greenhouse. A large wrap-around deck added to the house increased our outdoor living space enormously.
The garage was moved and made larger to accommodate many different activities including woodworking, car maintenance and rebuilding (such as swapping the frame on Jackie’s Tacoma truck and an attempt to convert a S10 Chevy truck to a convertible), and the occasional use as a bike park.
The goal of all the additions was to make a place where friends and family would come and enjoy the beauty and relaxation of Hawley. The Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays brought many visitors to eat, drink, and talk. Because the internet and television came very late to Hawley, we played endless games of Chinese Patience, Whist, Qwirkle, Mexican Trains, Power Grid, Carcisonne, and of course the deadly Plague. Jackie was always the biggest loser and proud of it, although in the early years she and Huw made a mean team in Whist. Fourth of July was always spectacular. Max and Huw’s friends came to celebrate with barbecue, outdoor games, fireworks and the biggest bonfires they could build.
Every season in Hawley brings its own activities and pleasures.
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Snowshoeing in winter
Winter meant snowshoeing across the snow covered lawn, cross country skiing at Stumps Sprouts with Amy Singer, Reuven, Max and Huw digging igloos in the deep drifts, soaking away the muscle soreness in the hot tub, and raucous games by the wood stove.
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Winter dip
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Spring flowers
Spring brought planting the gardens and planters, seeing which herbs survived the harsh winter, and avoiding getting stuck in the mud.
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Summer exploring
Summer meant being outside as much as possible, hiking up Forge Hill to the abandon cabins.
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Summer lawn games
Playing games on the lawn.
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Summer baseball
Baseball in the meadow.
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Summer jam
Making jam from local fruit, and weeding, lots of weeding.
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Autumn harvest
Autumn brought out the big sweaters, brought in the harvest, and provded an excuse for enormous bonfires to burn the endless number of leaves falling from the trees
Each season also brings its own color; winter a study in black and white; the mud brown earth of a the brief New England spring; early summer with the different shades of green that blend into the single green of August; the famous autumnal colors, red, yellow and orange that become the burnt red, gold and brown of November. We often say we can look out the window and, without consulting a calendar, know exactly where in the year we are.
