In Frost's Fields

I set out today to the Robert Frost Farm, here in Derry, N.H.  Robert Frost lived in Derry from 1900-1911.

The house is a lovely little new England farmhouse with an attached barn that has been refurbished and decorated to replicate the era when Frost lived there.

The details of  this renovation are accurate to the memories of the author's daughter, Leslie Frost, who oversaw every detail of the farm's renovation down to  paint colors, curtain styles, and wallpaper.

Frost is quoted as saying, "To a large extent the terrain of my poetry is the Derry landscape, the Derry farm. There was something about the experience at Derry which stayed in my mind, and was tapped for poetry in the years that came after."

Funny how the perceptions of the great poet made me look anew at my old town, today.

I attended the tour of the house led by a young man who had studied Frost deeply. His affection for the author and the place was palpable. His dedication to the place, at his young age, admirable. As we stepped into the kitchen, he commented, "Be careful of the floor, I just mopped." I loved that!

 I commented on the red painted floors and he said that Frost loved the color red on the floors as it reminded him of the joys of Christmas throughout the year. Frost liked the cheer of the red. I do too!

And so follows some shots of the house interior. Very spare. But I must say that I could feel the spirit of the poet fully alive in the rooms.

I have always been crazy like that. I like to touch the places where a person whom I admire has been.

So today, I ran my hand along the edge of the soapstone sink where Elinor must have washed many a dish, looking out upon the same scene.

I stood near the kitchen window where Frost warmed himself and wrote during the long winter months in N.H. while he wrote some of his most beautiful poetry...

I touched the rail of the crib that held each of his children.

I even sat (not in the typical sense!) on the double holed "outhouse bench", imagining cold nights there! Who will ever know what "great thinking" ruminated here!

Here was a "secret room" in the eaves  where Frost's "hired hand" and his father lived while they helped run the farm.

The barn was full of old farm tools...but I was partial to this old wheelbarrow. Thought of the poem about apple picking time....

As I sat in the barn with the wind gusting through the ancient maples and apple trees outside of the barn, I could scarcely pay attention to the animated speaker. He spoke mostly of old Derry: the home of my own ancestors, who arrived here in the early 1700's. I wanted to listen but my eyes flew around the barn. I was swept away by the poet, his words emblazoned on placards all around the old barn.

I thought about my grandfather and uncle (Clarence and Harvey Wilson), sitting in Room 12 at Pinkerton Academy, scribbling notes as Frost lectured to them in English, Latin and Geometry.

I was also enthused to hear that Frost was the baseball coach at Pinkerton Academy, during the years that my grandfather and uncle attended. I have old photos of  Clarence and Harvey, in football and baseball uniforms, during Frost's tenure there.  Both were team captains. I wondered, as the breezes tossed the baby apples on the trees, what Clarence or Harvey thought of Frost.

I know that I feel a kindred spirit to this poet who walked the fields and tromped the byways of my town.

 And with this taste of the poet's life today, I am in love again! I will come again soon, sit on the arm of this old tree outside the barn, and see what the breezes tell me!