November 14, 2004 - A shack full of memoriesRiverhead News - Review I A shack full of memories
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The Suffolk Times
The New�� lew
Serving Riverhead Since 1868
A shack full of memories
Focus on Nature
By Paul Stoutenburgh
Many of the Focus on Nature articles you
have read over the years were written in
a little building we call the hay shack, at
the end of the pasture.
Originally it was an old sprout house that
came from Barbara's grandparents' farm.
This makeshrft studio is where odds and
not far from where it stands today. Half of
ends wind up when they've lost their
it acts as sort of a studio where we store
usefulness but still hold fond memories
odds and ends, while in the other half we
too rich to throw away.
keep hay for the cows during the winter. 1
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
thought it might be sort of fun to look
back on things that wind up in this place we call the hay shack_ They're mostly misfits
of the past that have lost their original importance but still have a special meaning to
me_
So, let's go_ As l open the door I see the old dartboard hanging on the other side. It
goes back to when the kids were young and they'd come up to play darts. There are
some darts still attached to the board. I wonder when the last one was thrown and by
whom?
Once inside. I sit at a table that looks over the pasture down to the pond. The legs of
this old table have been scuffed and scarred from many years of use in my mother's
kitchen_ Today it lives a different life, just waiting for someone to come and siL
Off to the left of the table is a bookcase with two sailing trophies that have lost most
of their luster_ These were won in the early days, when we kids first became
acquainted with nature's tides and winds, when we went to races in boats seldom
spoken of today — Lightnings, Lawleys, Thistles, Comets — they were the boats of
the day_
Hanging on the wall across the top of the window is a six -foot two-man saw I
remember all too well using with my dad. particularly after the °38 hurricane, when
trees were down all around our house. We all fett nature's wrath during that dreadful
day_ At that time we used a wood stove to heat the house_ How could one forget
those early mornings. rushing from the cold bedrooms to the warmth of the stove Dad
or Mom had glowing before we got up to get dressed?
Shelter Island Little did t know that years later I'd be using a more modem. airtight version of that
Reporter old wood stove in my own home_ The wood back then was cut on a buzz saw
attached to a tractor by a wide, fiat belt_ Logs were laid on a movable table and
The North Shore Sun pushed into the whirling blades. On the wall here in the hay shack are the two big,
three -foot buzz saw blades. which, along with the two-man saw, serve only as
remirxfers of those wood-cutting days. Since those early days the chain saver has
The Wine Press come into its own. along with the hydraulic log splitter. they make a once- tedious job
much easier and quicker.
Hanging on the wall is a service flag that was hung in the window of a mother whose
son had gone to war_ It has a star representing the son who left his home to go in the
service. That was World War 11. After all the years it's faded and wrinkled and looks
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Riverhead News - Review I A shack full of memories
pfeffy Sad I found if when going through my mothers things after she died.
Sitting on top of the bookcase and the table are two old kerosene lamps; their black
wicks need trimming. They're dry now for lack of kerosene. Their soft, warm fight
shown many times on our tables when the lights flickered and we were left in
darkness. They seem out of place in today's "flip of a switch" world but like
everything else up here, they had their day.
Still standing on its own two-foot support is the glass stem fight from my old 38 -foot
wooden cabin cruiser. There was a boat that brought nature closer to all of us as we
slept in her warm bunks, listening to the water lapping at her sides. We cooked in her
spacious galley and took rare of her every need and, even in the end, put her in her
grave. This stem light shows its age in the color of the glass, which by now has
tamed to a light purple, as many glass objects do when they are exposed to the
sunlight for a long time — in this case, probably 70 years or more. But then again,
what do you do with an old stem light?
Hanging in the window to show off their colors are three big glass balls, probably
each five or sic inches in diameter, held together by a heavy web of line. They were
used years ago on fishnets. Evidently these had broken loose and Boated ashore,
where 1 came upon them on some lonely beach. They give a warm glow in the
afternoon sun, with their brown and green and white colors reflecting through them.
Page 2 of 3
Lying on the desk in front of me is one of nature's little mysteries, shaped like a
miniature flying saucer. Its about two inches in diameter and seemingly made out of
hardened day. These are called concretions and they're found wherever day comes
to the surface along our shores. Scratched on its brown surface is "Gardiners Island
1975' It doesn't tell the month, so it could have been on one of the many Christmas
Bird Counts that 1 participated in or on one of the many osprey surveys 1 took with
Dennis Puleston years ago, when ospreys were in such dire need of help. But what to
do with these concretions? Send them up to the hay shack, where theyll wait another
day to bring back memories.
Resting against the windowsill in front of me is a 124nch slab of white birch that I
picked up years ago when Barbara and I were visiting friends in Maine. On it I carved
a heart with an arrow going through it with the initials PS/BS cut deep into its white
bark. That PSBS combination has lasted over fifty years and is still as good as ever.
These mementos turn up with their dust and grime of days gone by, only to find a
place in the hay shack, out of harm's way.
On the wall, which is plastered, is scratched the outline of a five -pound weakfish I
caught in our creek on very light tackle years ago. Again, part of nature's scheme of
things, for on those fishing trips in the quiet of the evening there's a wondrous spell
that takes over that only few are privileged to see and hear. The distant call of the
'quaW or night heron, the splash of a weakfish as it feeds in the mirrored waters,
the smell of mud as the tide goes out and the twinkling of the first star that seems to
say "all is well.' Here, nature is at its best The date scratched in the plaster is "May
1972."
Hanging from the ceiling in this hideaway we call the hay shack are old lobster buoys
that broke away from their traps below. These are made out of wood, which dates
them, for now lobster buoys are made of plastic. They float much higher in the water
and are much lighter to handle. In those early days, some were made with pride and
painted in bright colors, while others had no character at all.
Today is the 12th of October, and as I walked up to the hay shack this morning there
was a real chill in the air and with it came a cutting wind out of the northwest It
reminded me that it might be a good idea to light up the We wood stove in the comer
of the shack. When we first refurbished the shack 1 would often right a fire and write
my articles there. It hasn't been lit for some time now ... perhaps this is the day to
start it up again.
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