Here we are, a chilly fall-in-the-air kind of day in late September already. This evening will officially herald in the first day of Autumn, but today, with the temperature around 50 degrees sure feels like it's here now. The maples are turning - sort of an all-over blush right now, but some are predicting this is building to be a spectacular year for color. 
     I should apologize for my lack of enthusiasm for writing on my blog lately. First, losing our beautiful cat, Woody, hit both of us very hard. We miss him each day, and that has cast a shadow over almost everything I do - he was so much a part of our lives. I miss him greeting me in the morning, curling up in my lap as soon as I sat down in my easy chair to watch TV, and especially pestering me to pay attention as he sprawled on the desk beside me here in my office, reaching out gently with his paw to touch my shoulder or sometimes my cheek. When I go outside to work, I miss him popping out from behind a bush to startle me, or hopping into the wheelbarrow for a ride. He was a huge part of our lives and even though we knew we were his staff, we also knew he loved us, too.
     Then there is the history book we're writing. That is a good way to lose myself for hours at a time as I research, write, question, rephrase, search for inspiration and with luck, write another paragraph or two knowing when I come back to it later I will no doubt rewrite most of it again. Such is the nature of writing. 
     I've been searching records at the Cabot town cerk's office this week, and that has been interesting. It is time-consuming, as most research is, but there has been the added benefit of bumping into a couple of friends I hadn't seen for a long time, Amanda Legare and Lisa Ginette. Amanda was one of my co-authors for the Cabot oral history we did in 1999. There was a close bond among the four of us that included fellow author Barbara Carpenter and editor Caleb Pitkin, and we still enjoy getting together. 
     I first met Lisa almost as many years ago when I was asked to be a town auditor. Lisa served with me and Christa Scholz. Lisa is a licensed surveyor - has her own business, Sunrise Surveying in Cabot. Her husband, Eric, was very active at the historical society at one time - both are interesting people. It was good to see Lisa.
     Then, back to my computer and the West Danville history. I found out Wilbur Ewen was sort of a hold-out in selling his lake shore frontage for camps. He bought the Will Somers farm (where Sandy Beach Road and Meadow Lane are today) in 1915, but didn't sell off any shore line property until about 1921. His land stretched south along the west shore to about where Jim Craige's camp is - that used to be Dr. Burbank's, as near as I can tell from old deeds. He sold off the shoreline from Dr. Burbank's to what is now Meadow Lane, but kept the fields intact for some time. I need to go back to find out when the rest of the Ewen shoreline was developed.
     It is particularly interesting for me because I knew Wilbur and his wife, Jenny. We interviewed his daughter, Cora Newton when we wrote the Cabot oral history. I will go back to her interview for more information - I know she told some interesting stories. I was best friends with Cora's daughter, Joyce, and I used to go down to swim with her at the sandy beach at the edge of their field - before any cottages were there. All those people are gone now. I last saw Cora when she was in a nursing home in Randolph. I delivered one of the Cabot oral history books to her, and she was so thrilled. She couldn't wait to read it. I had interviewed her a couple of times when she was living in Bradford, Vermont - I remember taking her out for lunch one day and how she ate only a little of her lunch, saying she guessed she would keep some for her supper.  Since I had only wanted half of my sandwich, I urged her to take, saying I didn't think it would be good to carry it home with me in the hot car - it didn't take any persuasion. She had to watch her pennies carefully, and the leftovers from our lunch would be at least another two meals for her. She was frugal, but her apartment was spic and span and she always dressed like she was going to church. She had an artistic flare and her apartment was bright and cheerful with afghans she had made, and mementos of family and friends on display. She saved things like newspaper clippings, letters and photos, and I was able to copy some of those. She had brothers and sisters, all of whom I knew - sisters Phyllis and Athalene, and two brothers, Stanley and Bernard. There was another, older brother, that I never knew. I think Cora was the oldest sibling after that brother.

The Wilbur Ewen Farm, about 1928.

     There are funny stories about Wilbur, her father. He was a small man, with a beard, as I recall. He was very shy and I never got more than a fleeting look at him as he disappeared out the back door or shuffled quickly from the house to the barn and out of sight like a little gnome. Jenny was friendly and seemed to enjoy having visitors, but there seemed to be an undertone in that household indicating things were done according to Wilbur's fancy, and nobody else's. He was known to peek out knotholes in the barn door whenever someone stopped by. Jenny would go out and be neighborly, but not Wilbur. He got bruised and shaken up one time when climbed up a ladder onto a limb of a big old tree and then sawed the limb off. He, the ladder and the limb of course landed in a heap on the ground.


    So, welcome in and enjoy our next beautiful season - Autumn.