Rosslyn Redux

Tag: Crotalus Horridus

  • Timber Rattlesnake? Massasauga Rattlesnake?

    Massasauga rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus)
    Massasauga rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    Have you ever ever heard of an Eastern massasauga rattlesnake? Or a Sistrurus catenatus?

    Me either.

    Until recently.

    I’ve just come across notes that I scribbled almost three years ago on May 15, 2009 after seeing a large, unfamiliar snake behind the carriage barn. I tried to identify the exotic serpent but never solved the mystery.

    My sleuthing was reinvigorated this afternoon, leading me to a new possibility. As unlikely as it may seem, I now suspect that I may have spotted a massasauga rattlesnake with markings totally unlike our local Adirondack timber rattlesnakes.

    But I’m getting ahead of myself. First let’s take a look at my old notes:

    After gardening, while watering transplanted tomatoes I saw a large snake with unfamiliar coloring/markings. I described it to naturalist John Davis (@trekeast), conservationist Chris Maron and Essex Farm guru, Mark Kimball. No consensus. Perhaps a copper head, a northern water snake or an adder. I poked around the web looking at photos and reading descriptions. It was not a Northern Water Snake. The Northern Copperhead photo could be a match, and the description fits quite accurately. And this photo of a copperhead looks similar. Actually, most photos I find online of Northern Copperheads look similar:

    Some other possibilities include Eastern Fox Snake, Northern Water Snake and Corn Snake. In fact, it looked an awful lot like a, Anerythristic Corn Snake (Elaphe guttata), but we’re definitely not in their natural range. Here’s a photo of a baby corn snake that is much smaller than the stealthy serpent I spied, though otherwise very similar. And here’s another corn snake. This photo of an Anerythristic Corn Snake is a dead ringer for the rhubarb runaway.

    That was my thinking three years ago. But I’ve changed my mind. If only I had a photograph…

    At the time I called my bride on my mobile phone and asked her to bring my camera so I could take a picture. “Come quick. I don’t want the snake to get away!”

    Massasauga rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus)
    Massasauga rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    “Don’t get near it. It’s probably a rattlesnake.Come inside. Now.”

    A brief, anxious verbal volley later the snake had vanished into the deep grass around the rhubarb patch. No photograph. Though the image of the snake — pale yellowish tan background with brown and black foreground markings — lingered in my mind, the length of the snake grew longer with each passing minute.

    The timber rattlesnakes that live in the Adirondacks are dark, almost black with only a faint pattern visible in certain lighting situations. This snake was not a timber rattlesnake. And I never saw a rattle. Nor did I hear a rattle.

    And yet when I stumbled upon the photographs of the yellow rattlesnake above, I instantly recognized the snake that vanished in the rhubarb patch. We had a Sistrurus catenatus, yellow massasauga rattler in Rosslyn’s rhubarb patch!

    Or did we?

    What if the assumption that all Adirondack timber rattlesnakes living in the Split Rock Mountain Forest area are brown-black is erroneous? What if some of our local rattlers look like the yellowish tan snakes in this video which was ostensibly filmed in New York Sate?

    The photographer/videographer who shared that dramatic footage was prudent not to disclose the location of the snakes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were right here in the Champlain Valley. Those pale snakes, especially the rattlesnake with the pale yellow head are extremely similar to my rhubarb patch mystery serpent!

    If you’re a wise herpetologist with a knowledge of the Adirondacks’ Champlain Valley maybe you can help solve my snake mystery…

    Updates

    June 27, 2012: Perhaps Bill Brown (and many others) are relying upon empirical evidence about the Split Rock rattlesnakes that is changing?

    Bill Brown, an expert on timber rattlers… said the Split Rock population is unusual in that all the specimens are black. Except for a tiny population in New Hampshire, other populations in the North are made up of black snakes and yellow snakes (with crossbands)… A biologist who has studied timber rattlers for more than three decades, Brown attributes the uniformity of the Split Rock population to the “founder effect.” It is supposed that all the founders of the population were black, and no yellow snakes contributed to the gene pool. (Adirondack Explorer)

    July 17, 2012: Seems that we need help identifying another mystery snake in the Adirondacks.

    https://twitter.com/Davecfm/status/223131416618209280

    Dave Cummings' mystery snake(s)
    Dave Cummings’ mystery snake(s)

    Or, if my eyes serve me, two Adirondack mystery snakes.

    Thanks, Dave Cummings (@Davecfm), for adding more serpentine curiosity to the mix!

    If you’re interested in building a timber frame home, you need to check this guy out. Cummings shares photographic documentation of his quest to build an off-the-grid, timber frame and straw bale house just south of us, near Bolton Landing.

    I missed Cummings’ first Twitter post about the snake(s), but this Northern Water Snake follow-up tweet by Jake (@darkeyes924) got my attention. Better late than never!

    https://twitter.com/TrekEast/status/224966236382044161

     

    Timber Rattlesnake seen by John Davis
    Timber Rattlesnake seen by John Davis

    https://twitter.com/TrekEast/status/224973177439260673

    https://twitter.com/TrekEast/status/224978430666612736

    https://twitter.com/TrekEast/status/225174561753284609

    October 9, 2014: 

    Recently I was contacted by a herpetologist here in NY studying the Massasauga who was interested in my observation. In our discussion he mentioned this:

    It is common for Milksnakes to be identified as Massasaugas. The belief is that Milk snakes have evolved to mimic venomous species in their area, and in eastern states are known to be EMR mimics. Is it possible what you saw was a Milk Snake? ~Alexander Robillard of SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry

    So, it’s quite likely that I saw an enormous, beautiful milk snake. I’ve seen no similar snakes recently or ever. And given the fact that our local population of rattlesnakes (Split Rock Wilderness) are apparently all blackish, this suggestion seems the most likely.

  • Rosslyn Roundup, May 4

    Rosslyn boathouse, January 8, 2012 (Photo credit: Glenn Estus, via Flickr)
    Rosslyn boathouse, January 8, 2012 (Photo credit: Glenn Estus)

    It’s time for another Rosslyn Roundup to share everything Rosslyn-related that I didn’t get a chance to post over the last few weeks. Champlain Valleysprings are unpredictable and exciting, sometimes arriving early (this year) and other times hiding behind rain, rain, rain (last year).

    We’ve been celebrating our good fortune (quietly, with fingers crossed, while chewing on garlic cloves) that Spring 2012 has been considerably drier than Spring 2011. Remember the devastating Lake Champlain floods last year? For the better part of two months we experienced history making high water levels which inundated the Town of Essex and swamped Rosslyn boathouse under three feet of water for weeks on end. But we were lucky. Damage was minimal, and we recovered. Actually… we’re still recovering. Rebuilding the stone walls along the waterfront is ongoing, but that story for another blog post!

    It’s a bit hard to believe that I launched the Rosslyn Redux blog just over a year ago. I’ve been finding my feet, trying to decide what goes into the book, what goes into the performance and what goes into the blog. I’m still filtering through artifacts and unadopted stories, but the most everything has fallen into place. The book (books? booklings?) are nearing their inevitable (and looong awaited) right of passage. And the blog, evolving in fits and starts has nevertheless averaged almost one post per week. Expect that rate to increase now that I’m in the homestretch with manuscripts.

    Okay, enough bellybutton gazing. Well, almost enough. A couple of other interesting items to relay before plunging into the Rosslyn Roundup.

    May Day was the busiest day on the blog ever! In addition to “Reawakening Rosslyn” which drew record readers, there were many people who showed up a day late to read “Old Glory & Mud Season“. The combination of these two posts included a magic elixir… If only I knew what it was! Please don’t hesitate to share your preferences for future posts, and I’ll do my best to honor your wishes.

    I have to admit that I was pretty thrilled with the reception that “Reawakening Rosslyn” received. You may have already figured that it’s a central theme in the story of our epic home and property rehabilitation.

    And as it turns out rattlesnakes are another hot topic. Between “Rosslyn Rattlesnake” and “Timber Rattlesnake: Fact, Fiction & Mystery” (posted on EssexonLakeChamplain.com) I seem to have tapped a universal fascination with poisonous pit vipers. Who would have anticipated that? Bizarre.

    Less surprising, my post about cartoonist Sid Couchey was also well received. Proof that whether we all admit it or not, we all love cartoons! And if you ever met my Essex friend and neighbor, you’d love Couchey too. He will remain a local legend for many years to come. I feel fortunate each time I pass Couchey’s painting of Rosslyn boathouse which hangs in our morning room. I’ve decided that the fellow chatting with Champy — the Lake Champlain monster — at the end of the boathouse pier is the cartoonist himself. I’m listening carefully and hoping to hear the joke that they’re sharing.

    Okay, about that roundup… Did you see that spooky photograph of Rosslyn boathouse at the top of this post? Spectacular. Eerie. The image is called “Essex, NY Boathouse #3” and it was shot on January 8, 2012 by local photographer, Glenn Estus. We have several of his photographs hanging on the walls at Rosslyn, and you can see plenty more in his Flickr feed if your interested.

    Speaking of photographs, check out the new Rosslyn Redux board on Pinterest to see a growing collection of Rosslyn photographs shared by people all over the globe. Add your own photos, and I’ll heap praise and accolades upon you.

    And you’ll find more photographs by me and others on the Rosslyn Redux Facebook page which has grown steadily in membership over the last year. If you’re not already a friend of the forthcoming Rosslyn Redux memoir, now’s the time. Please friend the page and feel free to share your thoughts. I look forward to hearing from you.

    Enough. Weekend. Enjoy!

  • Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part III

    Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part III

    Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part III (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

    Adirondack autumn is sliding stealthily into winter. I’d better accelerate my fall iPhonography retrospective so that I’m ready to chronicle Rosslyn’s soon-to-be-snowy winter. In order to fast track the process, I’ll [almost] skip the textual annotations that I included in Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part I and Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part II.

    The video slide show above is story enough, I think, but there are a few images that beg explanation. There are several photos related to boating because me bride and I stretch the season as much as “comfortably” possible in the autumn. In fact, we stretch the whole season, starting early and ending late. Most years we are able to enjoy a six month sailing, windsurfing, waterskiing, wakesurfing season starting at the beginning of May and ending in the final days of October. So these images are a watersports swansong of sorts.

    A more rigorous editor would have eliminated the “live simply” snapshot, but I love this t-shirt given to me by my sister-in-law. Sure, the graphic’s great, but it’s the reminder that I value each time I come across it on my t-shirt shelf. I’m hoping to play with the idea in a cartoon soon, a sequence of the simple pleasures of rural Adirondack living with the slightly ironic banner, “Live simply!” Stay tuned…

    Veteran RR readers will know that the squirrels occupy a dramatic place in our Rosslyn lifestyle, so I won’t get into that here, but those images capture the quirks and charms of our “Adirondack monkeys”. Squirrel-proof birdfeeders? We’ve tried five varieties so far, but the squirrels always succeed. And the squirrel perched on the edge of the stone water trough? Just try to convince me he’s not peeing in the drinking water!

    I included my ever growing collection of gardening books because I was reminded again this fall that gardening occupies my imagination even as the gardening season is ending. One might expect their enthusiasm for planting and weeding and landscaping and harvesting to flag after many months of spring-summer-fall gardening. But instead, my mind turns to next season. Adirondack autumn means fall planting. Maintenance. Changes. It’s been a busy fall for Rosslyn landscaping and gardening projects, but I’ll postpone these updates until later. And once the snow begins to fall I pull out the books again and begin to sketch plans for next spring, make lists and schedules, order seeds for indoor forcing,… By late winter when my seedlings are well underway in our basement under lamps, I’ll begin pruning fruit trees. In short, even in the Adirondacks gardening is a year round passion.

    The shots of tempting chalkboard menus come from the Essex Ice Cream Cafe which for the first time (ever?) is open year-round for breakfast and lunch. And, soon, they’ll be launching a turn-back-the-clock delicacy that not only tastes sensational, but carries some personal satisfaction as well. More on that once the secret is no longer a secret and the most delicious maple-derived confection in the world is available again, more than a century after it was first produced in Essex. Okay, I’m teasing you. Details soon!

    Perfect transition to that odd photo at about 1:02 in the slide show. What’s that?!?! Dog food, perhaps? Actually that was a memorable venison stew with spinach. Deer hunting is an important part of North Country culture and though I do not partake (I’m a poor gunner, and I find it difficult to shoot anything that can bat an eyelash at me,) I love venison. Several generous friends share with me each fall, and this stew was the best I’ve ever made. Lots of onions and wine get cooked down with the venison, and lentils and wild rice are added toward then end. The spinach was a last minute stir-in. So, it’s a feast for the belly, not the eyes.

    The next picture, a step closer to eye candy, is broiled cabbage. Sounds unpromising. Try it. Delicious. I’ve made it several times, and it I can manage, I’ll share the ultra simple recipe soon. Even non-cabbage stalwarts love it!

    I think that everything is self-explanatory. If not, let me know. Thanks for sharing our Adirondack autumn.

  • Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part I

    Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part I

    As I mentioned recently, Adirondack autumn invites retrospection and introspection. But don’t fret, today’s lilt is less wistful. Levity is restored and whimsical iPhoneography is the flavor or the day.

    With September and October skulking away and November slithering in, I’m dishing up a photographic retrospective, a parade of annotated images gathered “on the fly” over the last few months.

    Viewed en masse they offer a voyeuristic immersion in the lifestyle which binds us to Rosslyn, Essex, Lake Champlain, and the Adirondacks. Most of these images were shared through my personal Twitter feed (@virtualDavis) and/or the Rosslyn Redux twitter feed (@rosslynredux), and their creation and distribution was made possible by the narcotic genius of this virtual symphony: iPhone, Instagram, Instacanv.as, Tout, and YouTube.

    Timber Rattlesnake killed on Lakeshore Road in Essex, NY on August 22, 2012.
    Timber Rattlesnake killed on Lakeshore Road in Essex, NY on August 22, 2012.

    This first photo was actually taken in August, but I couldn’t resist including this unsettling image. I came across this freshly killed three foot long Adirondack timber rattlesnake while cycling along Lakeshore Road near Essex. The blood was fresh and the rattle had been cut off.

    Although I want to believe this near-black Crotalus horridus was accidentally hit and killed by a car, it prompted a serpentless September rattlesnake safari, and catalyzed much conversation with friends about our local population of timber rattlesnakes. How can we protect them?

    I’ll share rattlesnake news if/when relevant. For now I’ll move over to the autumn harvest. Given our hot, dry summer it was been a phenomenal year for most locally grown produce.

    While we began flirting with frost most nights in September (earlier than the previous two years), tender vegetables like tomatoes were still coming out of our own garden and our local CSA, Full and By Farm, owned by Sara Kurak and James Graves.

    These “ugly but delicious” heirloom tomatoes from Full and By Farm tempted me despite the fact that we’d been giving away and composting excess tomatoes since August. Too many, too fast. I’d been eating 2-3 tomatoes every day for lunch and dinner. Literally. I’m not exaggerating.

    When I posted the picture of these yellowish orange tomatoes on Twitter and Facebook, several friends insisted that these tomatoes weren’t ugly. True. They were voluptuous and vibrant and even a quick glance discloses the explosion of flavor they pack.

    But many of the heirloom varieties that we grow in our vegetable garden and the Full and By farmers grow are often referred to as “ugly” simply because they lack the uniformity of color and the blemish-free skin of the hybrid varieties usually sold in stores. In fact, the “uglier” the variety, the better they usually taste. One of my favorites, Black Krim is a perfect example. I wish I had posted a photo when they were still producing…

    These hot, hot, hot peppers (early Adirondack autumn colors?) were part of our farm share pickup for several weeks.

    I don’t tend to use many hot peppers in my cooking (and I grow several varieties in our own garden) so I haven’t been loading up on these, but I find them beautiful. Beautiful! I’m always amazed how naturally glossy and polished peppers and eggplant are. And the green/red mottling is exquisite.

    If you scratch and sniff the photo, you just might understand why the farmers remind us again and again, “Those are hot!”

    And what better complement to those exotic peppers than a not often witnessed artichoke blossom.

    We grew Imperial Star Artichokes for the second time this summer. Last year we successfully propagated and matured a half dozen plants. But the result was only a few smallish artichokes. Lots of effort for negligible reward, but I was encouraged to try again. I’d never even known that we could successfully grow artichokes in the Adirondacks.

    The discovery  was made in the fall of 2010 while visiting the gardens of Château Ramezay in Montreal. I was astonished to see the thriving plants, and immediately began researching. It turned out that Imperial Star Artichokes are productively grown as annuals in Maine and other parts of the Northeast. We vowed to try to our luck.

    This summer we had nine plants of which two never produced artichokes but the other seven each produced multiple artichokes. Several plants produced five to ten artichokes apiece. We’ve felt truly fortunate each time we’ve harvested artichokes for lunch or dinner. Can believe that artichokes are yet another highlight of Adirondack autumn?

    In fact, so abundant were the artichokes during August and September that several began to bloom before we could harvest them. The photograph above nicely conveys the part-sea-anemone-part-fireworks blossom of an Imperial Star Artichoke. A favorite of our Rosslyn honeybees.

    Adirondack autumn is also the perfect time for sailing on Lake Champlain. Although my bride and I have mostly concentrated on windsurfing in recent years, I often find myself gazing longingly at larger sailboats gliding gracefully across the water.

    For most of my life I’ve dreamed of a swift sailing vessel large enough to live aboard and wander from port to port, slowly gunkholing my way around the world with occasional blue water crossings between continents. I even have a name for my ship. And her dinghy. But I’ll keep them under wraps until the time is right.

    This handsome navy blue sloop was in the neighborhood for a few days, repeatedly cautching my eye because of its minimalist but handsome design. Elegant when drifting in a light breeze and even more so when scudding through whitecaps riding a stiff blow!

    Although I’m aware that my critics may justifiably accuse me of bellybutton gazing each time I post a new image of Rosslyn’s boathouse, I simply can’t resist it. This architectural folly has enchanted me since childhood, and now that I have the opportunity (and responsibility) to care for her, I’m all the more smitten.

    This photo was taken at dawn after a forceful windstorm (an unwelcome hand-me-down from Hurricane Isaac) that loosed one of the Adirondack chairs from the deck and dumped it into the shallow water of the beach. We were relieved to recover the chair because it was a handmade wedding gift from a close friend. Though one armrest was shattered, we will repair and repaint it this winter so that it will be ready to enjoy again next spring.

    And, as if hurricanes weren’t enough, a short time later we were warned that a tornado threatened! A tornado? It does seem that extreme weather is becoming more and more common.

    Only a couple of days before, Camp Dudley, a boys camp in Westport, NY where I spent a couple of memorable summers as a boy, was hit by an destructive windstorm that damaged roofs and snapped trees.

    This moody black and white photo of the dockhouse was taken in the hours awaiting the tornado. Anxious hours.

    Fortunately we were spared the worst of the tornado, but our good friends who own a home north of us near Valcour Island were not so lucky. They lost a towering old growth tree and their boat docks were tossed and somersaulted out into Lake Champlain. Fortunately nobody was hurt and the docks were able to be recovered.

    In a similarly ominous vein, this photograph of Rosslyn’s waterfront not only conveys the foreboding of stormy weather but also of summer passing. Or at least that was my hope. You’ll have to be the judge.

    The lighting and the shading suggest an antique photograph (thanks to a handy iPhone app which allows limitless technical control over the image elements) while the angle and unpopulated Adirondack chairs and beach add an eerie, abandoned feel. As if a seasonal camp or resort is about to be mothballed for the winter.

    There’s irony in this, of course, because Rosslyn is our home. Once our summer guests depart and Essex village slows down, we experience a second wind. We are revitalized. But that story for another day…

    Although we have several times hunkered down in anticipation of severe weather this fall, we’ve been been spared each time. And each time the skies have cleared to reveal blue skies and sunshine enough to warm our optimism. And even the occasional wild turkey feather. Check out this bumpy but fun video of twenty turkeys in Rosslyn orchard.

    I’ve walked the property after these storms to survey fallen limbs and other damage. Each time I’ve been relieved with the minimal damage. We’ve lost many branches and leaves, but few trees. Perhaps this is due to some sort of cosmic payback for the damage to our fruit trees this spring when a powerful hailstorm destroyed an ancient crab apple and killed seven young fruit trees in our orchard.

    Chief among my concerns when the winds howl (or the snowstorms dump, dump, dump) is our carriage barn which is overdue for a new roof.

    When an old barn collapsed at Full and By Farm a couple of winters ago I started looking more critically at our historic carriage barn. Although it is in surprisingly good shape for its 100-200 years, the structural elements of the post and beam construction are under-built by modern standards. There are several areas where settling and sagging cause concern, and we’ve been moving forward with plans to secure the building and replace the roof.

    If all goes as planned, construction will begin soon and we will be spared another anxious winter worrying that the snow load will overcome the proud old building. I will post updates if/when this project advances.

    The perils and challenges of severe weather for homeowners with aging property are plenty, but there’s little pleasure in fretting. And there’s ample pleasure in celebrating the harvest, so I’d like to return to the topic of harvesting, preparing and preserving the vegetables of our labors.

    But I’ve already droned on ad nauseum, so I’ll save further harvest updates for your next installment… Stay tuned for Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part II.

  • Adirondack Autumn 2012: Part II

    It’s time for another installment of the Adirondack Autumn retrospective I launched last week.

    I’ll change gears from Rosslyn boathouse and waterfront snapshots to a few garden harvest memories.

    We had enormous luck with melons this season despite a slow start. Actually, our luck was mixed. We grew about thirty medium sized cantaloups, but the squirrels (and raccoons?) devoured them as they ripened, successfully gobbling up every fruit before we could harvest it.

    We had better luck with watermelons which either enticed the wild critters less or were better protected by virtue of their hard, thick rinds.

    And a half dozen heirloom varieties of eggplant (eighteen plants) produced a bumper crop. Although we’ve grown eggplant for three or four years with decent luck, this summer was something else. The plants exploded up out of the drought cracked soil, quickly rising above my knees and in many cases reaching all the way to my waist.

    We harvested literally hundreds of huge, glossy, delicious eggplant for over three months. We ate them every day. We gave them away. We even learned how to preserve them for mid-winer enjoyment.

    Essex neighbor Barbara Kunzi lead a pressure canning workshop at the Whallonsburg Grange Community Kitchen. I’ve long been curious about preserving the food we grow, so I hustled off to Whallonsburg and learned how to can green beans. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and it inspired me to begin preserving by freezing until I can acquire a pressure canner.

    I grilled and froze eggplant and blanched and froze tomatoes. I even cooked up (and froze) a sizable batch of Khoresht-e Bademjan, a Persian eggplant stew which we’ll devour this winter when the garden is three feet deep in snow!

    The “skinny eggplant” photo was taken before slicing and baking them for the Khoresht-e Bademjan. In addition to several long, slender varieties, we grew several large purplish black varieties and pale purple striped varieties. (I’ve previously grown white eggplants, but skipped them this year.)

    The eggplant were added to the tomato sauce which I stewed down from these yellow tomatoes, white wine, garlic and minced onion. The house smelled divine!

    It was a challenging exercise in restraint to prepare Khoresht-e Bademjan to freeze and eat several months later without allowing “taste tests” to become “chow time”! But most of the eggplant stew is now frozen and ready for a snowy day.

    During the same post-workshop burst of enthusiasm for food preservation I explored preparing and freezing stuffed peppers. Turns out they’re better eaten right away. So I picked a half dozen of the biggest sweet peppers; stuffed them with minced chopped/sauteed mushrooms, onions, garlic, piñon nuts and quinoa; and slow-baked them for a delicious dinner. Ah, the harvest…

    Of course, Adirondack Autumn isn’t all stormy weather and culinary experimentation. The same chill which revitalizes the heat-stupored mind and sweetens the apples, pears and grapes chills the ankles.

    That’s right, fall is marked by a return to socks.

    For the first time in months the end of September found me sliding my paws into foot mittens each morning, a subtle reminder, day after day, that retrains the brain into cold weather survival mode after a summer of wild abandon. A small detail you say?

    Perhaps.

    For you. But not for me.

    This Adirondack autumn has remained relatively mild and dry, though we did have a rainy stretch in October that caused Lake Champlain‘s water level to rise rapidly. The rising water posed some challenges for the stone retaining wall we’ve been rebuilding along the northern half of our waterfront, ongoing repairs to damage caused by the 2011 spring floods. We raced to complete the most critical stone and mortar work while the water was still low enough for the tractor to operate on the beach. Given the massive stones used to build the stone wall in the 1800s, a tractor loader and backhoe are a big help! Unfortunately the rapidly rising water reduced the time we could rely on the tractor, and the crew finished the work by hand, relying on levers and pulleys and winches instead of steel and hydraulics and diesel to perform the feats of brawn.

    Next week I’ll feature a few snapshots that capture the natural lighting change that is part of Adirondack autumn.