All This Charm: NE Covered Bridges

I stumbled upon a heading which asks the question:

can one blog contain all this charm? and then continues

on to rapturize about covered bridges.

Indeed, there is almost too much charm

(and as I document our "collection" here with 

so many photos, you may come to agree).

First, a report on some of this week's blessings.

With a few cooler mornings, it is suddenly, seriously Autumn.

Different apartment from last fall. So I want to capture

a photo with our Utah-plated car and the colors, even as

I preamble toward my subject.

Took a short 'final' drive to Canterbury Shaker Village on

Saturday - a misty cloudy morning. But even these LOW creepers

were showing off. Easy to ignore for half the year, and then . . .

KAPOW! Foliage season is showy from HEAD to TOE.

There, on a Canterbury side road next to a pasture, 

moisture-laden air gilded this amazing spider web that 

caught my eye even from the driver's seat. 

I had to screech brakes, pull over, shift to park, 

grab cell phone and walk back to capture it.

Wish I could share the fragrance that morning:

herbal, but also spicy, like anise and bayberries; 

a little cedar but with honey and cinnamon, too.

Utah is wonderful - but New Hampshire, you OWN this!

As we studied this week's Gospel scriptures, we read

the 'beatitude' passages delivered by resurrected Jesus Christ

to new world disciples as recounted in 3 Nephi. We both enjoy

the 'hide a candle under a bushel' admonitions. But I admit I

usually think of the common wooden harvest baskets that I knew

as a little girl, and can't avoid the image of the candle catching

the bushel on fire. If NOT hiding your talents has to do with

flames, then the New England foliage has once again decided

to suppress that chlorophyll, and let her voice SOAR! 

Another way our lamps were filled this week was through

our friend Anita Nickulas in the Manchester Ward.

From early in our association here, she has shared her love

for uplifting music, including a spiritual experience centering

around words and lyrics she wrote that she was "impressioned"

to write (that's a new word that I like!). Wasn't sure I'd get a chance

to hear it, but she was able to share during a District Council meeting

Friday, introduced by accounts of small miracles surrounding its writing,

opportunities to perform it during church services a few different

times when details and "coincidences" offered evidence of the hand

of a loving Father who knows us, and cares about "small" stuff.

Here we are in the hallway (curse that overhead lighting)

where Anita is holding my copy of her music "A Gospel

of Love", while I show one of her recent gifts, a jar

of maple pumpkin butter spread. Such a precious friend.

Homeward thoughts led me to "fall in" when an online

update of Salt Lake Temple grounds demolition

flashed onto my monitor this weekend. We understood

this would happen, but having been out here, I was startled.

(To see a video updating these changes, follow this LINK.)

The accompanying audio focuses on stewardship,

noting careful, responsible preservation -- easily

connecting in my mind to this planned blog post topic. 

Seems like the list of notably scenic things to view and

capture here has no end. In truth, covered bridges were always

near the top for us. When we took an intentional trip

north to Warner, New Hampshire, in early summer to see

two great examples there, we also discovered this pictorial

book by a local author NH artist Arthur Conrad.

Here, below, he provides a map and list of the significant

bridges - those which have been assigned a US

historical number. This map is chock-ful, but NH is NOT

even near the top of the list of states with most bridges.

(Hard to believe!) At one time in NH there were over 400.

Mr. Conrad introduces a subject he fell in love with as 

a child with a bit of poetic prose:

A covered bridge can be shelter in storm, a tunnel of love,

a gallery for carved initials and dates, 

a familiar hoof-beat signaling return home.

And have you noticed that exiting a covered bridge

is usually accompanied by another look back?

If justification matters, the National Society for the

Preservation of Covered Bridges suggests that

many folks assume reasons as shelter from inclement weather

or a way to reassure horses who might balk at crossing rivers.

Real purpose is to protect the wooden bridge so that

it lasts longer, avoiding expensive replacement

and inconvenience at a river-crossing impasse.

Those impassioned about these bridges are also deeply

concerned about preservation of the styles, workmanship,

engineering and technologies that built them, as they

work hard to preserve and protect, or rebuild following fires.

Above, are Mr. Conrad's illustration of the various kinds

of truss framing - did you know there were so many?

The oldest NH covered bridge was built in 1829.

More than a decade ago, when Vince and I first traveled

to Vermont and New Hampshire, our first clue about these

wonderful bridges was a small sight-seeing footnote on a map

showing where this Quechee, VT example was to be found. 

We stopped -- and fell in love!

One blessing from our extended stay here was a chance

to "collect" many more covered bridge experiences.

This, below, is the Woodstock VT Middle Bridge in front of

which we parked to watch the Main Street Christmas parade

back in December (2019).

And around the bend, so to speak, is the Taftsville

bridge which is about as picturesque as they get!

Fast-forwarding to warmer weather and home territory,

this, below, is the Dalton Bridge, off-path in Warner.

And this, below, is Mr. Conrad's watercolor of the other

Warner bridge that we saw, where a young father

had an infant in a pram next to him as he shore-fished from

near the up-hill end. (Creative baby-care.)

This is the bridge, below, that was part of the hike through

the Franconia Notch State Park natural water features.

A post card we found described this bridge as being

supported by a beam from a tall, notably-ancient tree 

that fell across the gorge (then was harvested).

A surprising part of the charm of these structures

is the framed views from under the bridge's roof,

such as this one from Franconia, pictured above.

This red bridge crosses the Pemigewasset River

near the trailhead at Franconia Notch, and is 

well-maintained and beautiful. 

Here's one more view from entrance trail.

When car business took us north, we sandwiched in a few

sight-seeing stops, including . . . 

. . . Blair Bridge in Compton, above, and this is Smith 

Millennium Bridge near Plymouth, below. 

It is the newest and most modern of NH's

covered bridges, rebuilt after an arsonist's fire destroyed it.

It was rebuilt in 2001, thus the suggestive name.

Though Millennium is modern, its construction aims to preserve

the flavor and feel of historic engineering and construction,

as can be seen in this artistic truss and beam joinery, above.

And here, below, is the historic sign that tells about

Centennial.

Common to encounter a covered bridge in many historic

places. This one, below, crosses the mill pond stream

inside Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts.

Most recently on our bridge collecting quest, we stopped

near Keene in southwestern NH to visit a couple

near Swanzey. Our Garmin GPS system navigated for us,

but it was somewhat surprising to realize how many

folks see these next couple of examples every day as they

drive to jobs or homes, to soccer and school, 

and on local errands.

It was late afternoon when we were there.

This is West Swanzey that connected the manufacturing

town center with the residential center across the Ashuelot River.

Vince, ever the fisherman, doesn't mind hunting out 

covered bridges, because -- of course -- 

they always cross water!

This is perhaps the shortest real covered bridge

we have visited, Carlton Bridge. Just in a regular ol'

neighborhood. Vehicles stop on each side

to make sure no one is coming across the single lane 

- like many bridges NOT built for today's traffic pace.

The final bridge I show here is one shared by returning

young Elder G. Johnson just last week, as he wrote up 

and submitted his "Golden Truth" about what he has 

learned as a missionary.

This is the picture he selected as parting 'shot' - 

Robyville Bridge, Kenduskeag, ME (near Bangor).

These bridges are beautiful, because of creative engineering, 

community pride, historic provenance, and committed preservationists.

However, their practical application is why they exist in the first place:

people need a connection from one side to the other.

We had our faith renewed and grown this weekend, as we

reconfirmed our own BRIDGE between powers of Heaven,

and our humble and mortal needfulness. Our BRIDGE 

was a sincere and somewhat desperate PRAYER.

We know its power from past experiences.

We confirmed our knowledge that is WORKS.

A few details: in a convergence of silly circumstances,

Vince had misplaced both his corrective glasses

and his wallet (with license, corp. credit and personal cards,

and much more). We retraced, and mentally reconstructed.

We hunted - even through a slightly-full apartment dumpster

fearing wallet had accidentally been collected in a trash bag.

We considered calling recently-visited merchants.

We both inspected the rental car he was driving

this weekend for mission business.

Together, we scoured through the apartment.

Of course, he FOUND them in the last places he looked,

and that only AFTER a humble prayer pleaded for help,

for eyes prepared to see, and for a clear mind.

We know we are connected to a loving Heavenly Father.

Take care this coming week - be even safer with prayer!

Hearts Turned Toward Fathers

Rare highlights in these run-together days of isolating tend to assume

heroic proportions. We miss being able to "treat" the Manchester

area Elders or Sisters to dinner and a chat. This week we created

an occasion to do something "like unto" it: we ordered

curbside pickup from Olive Garden for Sisters Semadeni

and Young, on the condition that we would be able to deliver

it to them while keeping our distance. Here I am handing it off

at the end of a XC ski pole as Sister Young "receives" it at

the end of her broomstick!

They always reward us with thank-you notes and tokens

of gratitude. Here I am holding the early spring nosegay . . .

. . . that accompanies their note card.

The time stamp at the top of this post is significant to us.

April 26th is the birthday of my wonderful father August (Gus).

I have been thinking of him especially a lot this week,

and comparing notes, my sister and brothers have been too.

(This group picture was taken the last time we were all

assembled for Thanksgiving at the Warner household.)

Below, is a favorite of my son Cory's, from Dad's executive

days, looking westward from his mid-70s Salt Lake office 

of Deloitte where he was Partner-In-Charge.

Less historically, I was able to drop in to visit with him

on his birthday (2016) as he manned his shift at the Conference

Center (Missionary Host). This was a taxing assignment

for him at the end, but he said he felt invigorated and 

strengthened as he served and walked and explained there.

This was the final time, I believe, that I saw him on duty.

He was a very accomplished man, and I wish I could share all

the wonderful ways he blessed my life. I often feel him near, and 

hear his "catch phrases" of advice and wisdom in my mind. 

One surprising thing was his developed interest after retirement 

(from public accounting) in counted cross-stitch (fun to 

teach him something after he taught me so many things). 

Here are two of the prized pieces he completed: 

Grandfather's Barn & Grandmother's House.

Dad is often on mind and heart these days. As I walk

near our apartment along St. Anselm Drive, I pass many

beautiful homes. This one always catches my fancy, and

(accurately or not), it evokes Dad's childhood home

on O Street in the Avenues of Salt Lake City.

Inspiration for this week's post comes from general themes

in 2 Nephi as I've been reading recently, where are

mentioned the "turning of hearts" of children toward fathers, 

and connected blessings from Heaven. 

We've been thinking of our two wonderful fathers. 

While I don't have ready access

in my remote location here to a picture of Lloyd Warner, Vince

always mentions one attribute of his dad instantly when asked.

Lloyd hated fishing, but when young Vince wanted to go do that,

he made it possible, helping with preparations and logistics,

and making it seem as though it was an enjoyable activity.

(When we found this consignment painting print at Country 

Cobwebs in Warner this week, it was an instant purchase!)

Easy the task to think about Vince's progenitors recently,

as we made Warner, NH our destination outing in

an otherwise very mundane week. Only 45 minutes away.

 Here is Vince, posing between outbursts of surprise

that we weren't being offered the keys to the town.

Do you see that Warner, NH is pre-revolutionary?

(Just to be clear, Vince's Warner line were originally

Werners, emigrating from Germany at 

mid to late 17th century. Not related to Jonathan Warner,

citizen of Portsmouth, after whom the re-established

town was named.)

We've visited Warner before, on a trip 3.5 decades ago,

stopping to get a picture in front of the post office

and firehouse signs to prove that it happened.

In the old days, I would have walked in and had 

"my passport stamped" to commemorate.

As a quasi-resident of NH, I don't do that, and right now they

would frown on such "non-essential" virus exposure.

Once we returned home, Vince posed in his BYU colored

t-shirt which offers the geographic coordinates.

Some recently-perused travelogue hyperbole touted 

"typical New England" locales as "colorful autumn foliage and white 

country churches." Warner, NH, would qualify on both counts.

(Warner Congregational Church)

 We discovered that Warner has THREE covered bridges,

and we visited two (more on that topic in a later post).

Here is the Waterloo covered bridge, exterior and . . .

. . . and interior so the crossing beam construction

is visible, and . . .

. . . here is the Dalton.

Scenic country views caught my fancy as I saw spring

lambs and ewes in a field. (Vince hopped the fence

with his cell camera to take these much closer than

I would have been able to).

As part of our quest to capture historic stone fences

and cellar walls, we visited a historic cemetery near

Exit 8 (Lower Warner Cemetery) perched on a hill

with town road and I-89 skirting on two sides.

(No Warners buried here.)

Someone had carefully tended to veteran graves.

This marker is for Joseph Burke, 1757-1829.

He was a veteran of the Revolutionary War -

something you don't find in Utah or Idaho.

While we work to re-define what our mission service

looks like (Vince continues to be quite busy),

we have large quantities of time to ponder and consider.

We were born of goodly parents, certainly, with rich

and varied heritage.

For me, as I celebrate once again the birthday of Dad, 

without my beloved siblings near to buoy me up,

my lamp is full of oil that will light my way always.

Love you, Dad!

How have the people in YOUR family tree blessed

and enriched your life, and made you who you are?