The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the FarmCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
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The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the Farm
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
Farms -- Recreational use -- United States -- Fiction; Humorous stories
After weeks of questing about, we did almost close for one estate. It
was an estate where a rich man, who made his money in town and spent it
in the country, had invested a fortune in apple trees. The trees were
there--several thousand of them; but they were all such young trees. It
would be several years before they would begin to bear, and meantime
the services of a small army of men would be required to care for the
orchards and prune them, and spray them, and coddle them, and chase
insects away from them. I calculated that if we bought this place it
would cost me about seven thousand dollars a year for five years ahead
in order to enjoy three weeks of pink-and-white beauty in the blossoming
time each spring.
Besides, it occurred to me that by the time the trees did begin to bear
plentifully the fashionable folk in New York might quit eating apples;
in which case everybody else would undoubtedly follow suit and quit
eating them too. Ours is a fickle race, as witness the passing of the
vogue for iron dogs on front lawns, and for cut-glass vinegar cruets
on the dinner table; and a lot of other things, fashionable once but
unfashionable now.
Also, the house stood on a bluff directly overlooking the river, with
the tracks of the New York Central in plain view and trains constantly
ski-hooting by. At the time of our inspection of the premises, long
restless strings of freight cars were backing in and out of sidings not
more than a quarter of a mile away. We were prepared, after we had moved
to the country, to rise with the skylarks, but we could not see the
advantage to be derived from rising with the switch engines. Switch
engines are notorious for keeping early hours; or possibly the engineers
suffer from insomnia.
At length we decided to buy an undeveloped tract and do our own
developing. In pursuance of this altered plan we climbed craggy heights
with fine views to be had from their crests, but with no water anywhere
near; and we waded through marshy meadows, where there was any amount
of water but no views. This was discouraging; but we persevered, and
eventually perseverance found its reward. Thanks to some kindly souls
who guided us to it, we found what we thought we wanted.
We found a sixty-acre tract on a fine road less than a mile and a half
from one of the best towns in the lower Hudson Valley. It combined
accessibility with privacy; for after you quitted the cleared lands at
the front of the property, and entered the woodland at the back, you
were instantly in a stretch of timber which by rights belonged in the
Adirondacks. About a third of the land was cleared--or, rather, had been
cleared once upon a time. The rest was virgin forest running up to the
comb of a little mountain, from the top of which you might see, spread
out before you and below you, a panorama with a sweep of perhaps forty
miles round three sides of the horizon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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