The rafts at Hopedale Pond have
been sold and are now in Mashpee.
The bathhouse at Hopedale Pond.
Pouring the foundation for the third new house at
the upper end of Dutcher Street - December 2.
Hopedale in December 2010
December 1 Hopedale story - The Branded Hand
December 15 Hopedale story - Lizzie's Christmas Cards
Recent Pictures Menu HOME
The Lovejoy house on Park Street, that burned a few months
ago, has been razed and is being replaced - December 3.
Christmas tree on Community House lawn,
with the Draper Gym in the background.
Christmas tree at the Unitarian Church.
Hopedale Street - December 5
The rain that fell on the 12th going over
the dam at Spindleville on the 13th.
Hopedale Pond - December 15. The pond was covered with ice
for a couple of days until the warm rain of the 12th, which left just
a bit at the lower end. It was all covered again by the 16th.
I've been thinking that I should include pictures now and then from other towns
in the area. This one is of the Millville lock. It's one of two surviving locks of the
original 49 that were part of the Blackstone Canal. Click here for more on the
lock at Blackstone Daily, and here for more from the Massachusetts DCR site.
Parklands afternoon shadows.
Rosenfeld Concrete - Plain Street
A little snow, a little ice - December 21.
The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
From Snowbound by John Greenleaf Whittier
Click on the picture if you'd like to read the entire poem.
As night drew on, and, from the crest
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west,
The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank
From sight beneath the smothering bank,
We piled, with care, our nightly stack
Of wood against the chimney-back,--
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick,
And on its top the stout back-stick;
The knotty forestick laid apart,
And filled between with curious art
The ragged brush; then, hovering near,
We watched the first red blaze appear,
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,
Until the old, rude-furnished room
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom;
While radiant with a mimic flame
Outside the sparkling drift became,
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree
Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.
The crane and pendent trammels showed,
The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed;
While childish fancy, prompt to tell
The meaning of the miracle,
Whispered the old rhyme: "_Under the tree,
When fire outdoors burns merrily,
There the witches are making tea_."
Click on the picture above for an annotated
version of Snowbound.
Monday morning - December 27
Next morn we wakened with the shout
Of merry voices high and clear;
And saw the teamsters drawing near
To break the drifted highways out.
Down the long hillside treading slow
We saw the half-buried oxen' go,
Shaking the snow from heads uptost,
Their straining nostrils white with frost.
Before our door the straggling train
Drew up, an added team to gain.
It was quite a storm in parts of
Massachusetts, but I don't think we got
more than eight or nine inches here.
(The Milford News said a foot.)
Click on the picture to read about snow
plowing in Hopedale in the days when
as many as 54 horses were used for
This William H. Barney pictures shows what a snowy
day in Hopedale looked like around 1900.
Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,--
Brought in the wood from out of doors,
Littered the stalls, and from the mows
Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;
While, peering from his early perch
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
The cock his crested helmet bent
And down his querulous challenge sent.
Sliding at the golf course - December 30.
Football in the town park - December 31