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    Hints of Balsam and Pine  from our  corner of the Adirondacks. Adirondack Letters
    No.9: A Camp Barn Story
    Hints of Balsam and Pine: Nature Reflections in a minor key from our quiet corner of the Adirondacks. For Fourpeaks Guests and anyone who ever dreamed about a wilderness getaway. CLICK & GO!  (On this page.)   Adirondack Letter No.9: "A Camp Barn Story."   (On the next page.)   List and Links to all the Adirondack Letters in this series.  

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    "A Camp Barn Story" Adirondack Letter No.9
    Subject: "A Camp Barn Story." Adirondack Letter No.9
    Date: Tue, 8 Jan 2002 18:48:52
    From: < >
    To: < youremailname@youremail.address >

    To:    Fourpeaks Visitors
    At:    < youremailname@youremail.address >

    Dear Fourpeaks Visitor,

    Last evening at Camp Barn I took a walk around the building,
    nothing in mind. An ungainly structure--eight hundred square feet
    at the core, to which I right away had added large sheds along
    three sides, tripling the amount of enclosed space. The interior
    is dark as a cave--hardly a glimpse of the forest around or the
    bent birches on the grassy slope that leads up to Brown's Notch.

    Stepping out, I saw light had failed the inside of the pine woods
    but the spires on top, their slim branches and needle sprays still
    with some color, were outlined against the winter sky. Air flowed
    softly through the greenery and black stems, carrying with it a
    sound like tumbling water. I took out a folding chair to the new
    deck and sat in the stillness taking it in.

    Cutting brush for the view, Merritt found a bird's egg on the
    ground one day in a nest of leaf mold. He named it Partridge
    , though the place was too stony to maintain, and over the
    years it grew right back. I looked over in the direction of the
    vigorous saplings that now dominate the spot. I never told him
    that for size, color and location it was certainly whippoorwill.

    See the difference for yourself.   CLICK HERE to see what a partridge is (text and drawing) and
    CLICK HERE for the whippoorwill (text and drawing).

    Resting in the snow I found myself breathing purposefully like a
    cureseeker in Saranac Lake years ago or someone winter sunbathing
    at the ocean shore when I was a boy. My lungs filled with resinous
    particles in fresh oxygen just transpired from the forest and
    empty fields.

    We broke ground for the barn in late fall and poured the slab well
    before frost. Jim's boy then set about the framing. One day
    midwinter in '72 Jim came through the Notch in snowshoes from his
    place in the "Acres" to help out with the roof.

    Father and son worked together at building, their timeless skills
    passed on without ceremony through the generations of backcountry
    people. Jim was born on the Coolidge Farm just across the way on
    Stonehouse Road. They took in boarders for cash and to help with
    the Summer vegetables and chickens for market. He built "The
    Cabin" when he got home from the war, as well as every place he
    ever lived in, I guess.

    The town didn't plow the old road in those days and it was deep
    enough, they needed a snowmobile with a sled to get him out. I
    heard about it from the boy himself later on in the day. Listening
    to his voice from my office in the city I could see the familiar
    yellowed walls, the old table and chairs and sense the pain at the
    end, which was new.

    Late at night the moon glowed in a clear sky with stars. The light
    shone right through the grove, the tree trunks casting long
    shadows before them. The bark itself was dusted with white powder
    from the snow that drifted in showers here all day.

    For more about this see for the story of
    "The Cabin" and "Camp," a poem I wrote
    about it years after.

    Thanks for reading this. If you've ever been a guest with us, go
    to for a earnest invitation to visit
    us again. If you've never been--look at our up-to-date
    Availability Calendar and make some
    time. There's a lovely quiet season coming up. Till then please
    visit On-Line: "Explore our 700-acre private rest and play-ground." Pretty Camps in a Hidden Valley. Walks with views & Beauty spots. Photo Guest Book--What they said.

    Your Adirondack Guide,

    Martin Schwalbaum

    P.S. If you liked this Letter, CLICK HERE to Tell a Friend!
    If you didn't like it please reply to this with "REMOVE" in the
    subject heading. Thanks.

            Member Whiteface Mountain Visitors Bureau
       Member Lake Placid/Essex County Visitors Bureau

    This is   No.9  of a really occasional   Letter,  "Hints of
    Balsam and   Pine  from our Corner  of the Adirondacks,"  for
    Fourpeaks guests   or  anyone  who   ever   inquired about  a
    Fourpeaks   Vacation/Getaway. To get off this list reply with
    "REMOVE" in the subject heading.

    Get on our mailing list. CLICK HERE  (Easy Form.) to get on our mailing list
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    A Partridge at Camp Barn?
    Merritt found a whippoorwill egg. Thought it was a partridge egg. We hear the whippowill all Summer evenings long. SCROLL DOWN for whipporwill. (Never heard a partridge.)

    The Partridge at Camp Barn. Main Entry: par·tridge

    Pronunciation: 'pär-trij, 'pa-trij

    Function: noun

    Inflected Form(s): plural partridge or par·tridg·es

    Etymology: Middle English partrich, modification of Old French perdris, modification of Latin perdic-, perdix, from Greek perdik-, perdix

    Date: 14th century

    1 : any of various typically medium-sized stout-bodied Old World gallinaceous game birds (Perdix, Alectoris, and related genera) with variegated plumage

    2 : any of numerous gallinaceous birds (as the American ruffed grouse or bobwhite) somewhat like the Old World partridges in size, habits, or value as game

    Whippoorwill at Camp Barn.
    Merritt found a whippoorwill egg. Thought it was a partridge egg.

    Whippoorwill at Camp Barn. Main Entry: whip·poor·will

    Pronunciation: 'hwi-p&r-"wil

    Function: noun

    Etymology: imitative

    Date: 1709

    : a nocturnal nightjar (Caprimulgus vociferus) of eastern North America with a loud repeated call suggestive of its name .

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