I came upon this scene at our cabin. The grouse must have hit the window on our garage, even though it’s on the second story. I’ll have to do something about that — close the curtain, perhaps? At least the bird had a soft landing in new snow. It looked so peaceful, I was moved to take a photo. We left it where it fell. Some fox has probably already made quick work of it — returning its energy to the world.
As you may recall, for our epic New England Road Trip, in October Russ and I flew from our home in Duluth, Minnesota, to New York to visit Russ’s family members there and in Connecticut, and then drove north, exploring sites connected with my mother’s ancestors. Guilford, in the Maine Highlands, was the culmination of our trip and was the spot I’d been wanting to visit for over 15 years, ever since I did an internet search on my Herring ancestors and discovered that Robert Herring (my great-grandfather to the fifth power on my mother’s side) was one of the founders of Guilford.
As if that weren’t enough, Guilford was the original home of the Burt’s Bees brand of personal care products infused with honey and beeswax. That company has since moved away and changed owners. Now, Guilford is home to a company that makes many of those cotton-tipped nose swabs that we all became too familiar with during the COVID epidemic.
Back when I made my discovery fifteen years ago, I was so excited that I wrote a history about Gilford’s founding and sent it to their historical society. I see that it has since ended up in the University of Maine’s Digital Commons! (“Early Town History: A Tale of Three Roberts.”)
Privateers and a Deacon
My mother and her sisters compiled an extensive genealogy for our family before the era of computers. In it, they documented Robert Herring, his father Benjamin Herring, who was born in Gloucester, Massachusetts, in 1727, and his father Robert Herring, who immigrated from England in the early 1700s. But my mother and her sisters didn’t know about the family’s role in founding Guilford.
I found these ancestors interesting because Benjamin Herring was a Revolutionary War privateer who was buried at sea off Cape Sable Island, Nova Scotia. According to info I found on Wiki-Tree, Benjamin was the captain, and his ship’s name was the Princeton. His son Robert was also a privateer, but according to research by one of my California cousins, he gave up that life, became a deacon in the Baptist Church, and headed inland with his cousin Robert Low to found Guilford. Robert Herring’s son, Robert Lowe Herring, and his family followed soon after.
(There’s some question about whether there was an “e” on the end of Robert Low’s name. I’m leaving it off to minimize confusion with Robert Lowe Herring. But I’m pretty sure that RLH is named after his relative Robert Low.)
I let the Guilford Historical Society know about our trip, and their president and treasurer, Brian and Cindy Woodworth, were good enough to notify other Herring relatives and to open the museum for us during our two-day stay.
Before our museum visit, we had a delightful chat with some cousins, who are related to the original Bennett settlers of Guilford and to the Herrings. We met at the Guilford Bed and Breakfast, where we were staying. They gave me copies of helpful information about the Herrings and privateers.
By the way, if you ever stay in Guilford, the Bed and Breakfast is the place to go! The colonial Victorian is run by John and Lisa McNamara, new transplants from Georgia. They’re also active members of the historical society and the community. They spoiled us with homemade gourmet breakfasts made to order. In the evenings, we enjoyed a cocktail in the inn’s Hummingbird Lounge when we weren’t curled up with a book in front of the library fireplace.
We ate other meals at the Red Maple Inn. If you want a taste of “real backwoods Maine” and superb service, that’s the place!
Guilford Historical Society Museum
During our museum visit with Brian and Cindy, we were excited to meet a Herring cousin. She and I compared genealogical charts and figured out how we might be related. We were also happy to see the “mother’s chair” at the museum. When Robert Lowe Herring brought his family from New Gloucester, Maine, to Guilford via ox cart, this was the chair his wife, Mary (Polly) Wagg, sat on for the week-long trip. The chair was then passed down through the family and later donated to the historical society. I got to actually touch this piece of history!
My newfound cousin showed us Herring photos that I had not seen before. Afterward, she drove with us to the cemetery was in town and showed us where some Herring graves were located. Then we parted. Russ and I drove to Guilford Center and toured the cemetery and Baptist church there. This is where the family first settled. We also drove across Lowe’s Bridge, a covered bridge named after Robert Low), and past Herring Brothers Meats store, which the family owns. We even took a walk along the Piscataquis River where Robert Lowe Herring built a sawmill. (I learned the hard way from locals that the river’s name is pronounced pis-CAT-a-qwis not PIS-cat-a-qwis.)
Both Robert Lowe Herring and his father had eleven children each. Robert Lowe Herring died in 1847, about a year after from the heartbreak of seeing his youngest son, Alvin, die in a tree-felling accident.
Historical accounts (Sprague’s Journal of Maine History) say that Robert Lowe Herring was “well-fitted for pioneer work. Robust in mind and body, no combination of obstacles and hard labor changed his course once he determined upon the accomplishment of a certain purpose. He enjoyed overcoming difficulties-the greater they were, the greater his satisfaction when they were surmounted. The sight of suffering, in man or beast, moved him to tears. No one was ever turned from his door unwarmed or unfed. No neighbor in difficulty or distress ever appealed to him in vain for aid.”
I found another good story about Robert Lowe Herring in the History of Piscataquis County. It involves his neighbor, Ephriam Andrews. This poor neighbor was “afflicted with a morbid and partially insane state of mind . . . Although surrounded with good neighbors, he would drive his plow team all day with an axe on his shoulder, fearing that some of them would take his life.” Ephriam was a Revolutionary War veteran, so it could be that his mental health issues stemmed from that experience.
Ephriam’s sons regarded him as dangerous. They “prepared a small cage and shut him in. But he was marvelously ingenious in contriving and making escapes. They would capture him and force him back, and this would aggravate his insanity and rage.”
The breaking point came one spring in 1814 when Ephriam escaped. His sons surrounded him, trying to recage him. “He had armed himself with a small axe, and brandishing it, bade them stand off at their peril. But his youngest son, Samuel, then about fourteen years old, not believing that he would strike, daringly pressed up. The enraged father struck him a full blow in the face with the edge of the axe – nearly a fatal stroke.”
Ephriam was then jailed. His son recovered but carried an ugly scar the rest of his life. After being released from jail, Ephriam’s wife left him. The one person he seemed to trust was Robert Lowe Herring. Ephriam gave him all his property, and Robert let him live with him and his family. The arrangement seemed to work.
“There he had a good home, lived in listless ease, and sought his own entertainments. . . He died suddenly on his ninetieth birthday in Mr. Herring’s house.”
Can you imagine having a would-be axe murderer living in your house?! It says a lot about Robert’s character that Ephriam trusted him and that no more physical harm ensued, even though Ephriam’s “evil spirit would at times return.”
Ancient Family History
One of my Guilford cousins directed me to a book in the museum (Connor Genealogy) that contained information about Herring ancient history. This info was compiled by Menzies Herring, a family genealogist who lived in Massachusetts years ago, and Jerome Campbell Herring. Menzies used to mail questionnaires to Herring relatives across the country and perhaps that’s where he learned the history.
The family supposedly originated in Denmark. (My note: possibly in a town with a name that sounds like “herring,” which could either be Herning or Hjørring). They became Viking raiders and eventually settled in Normandy. A Herring ancestor was a “commander” in the Norman Navy under Rollo, the Norman chief who became the first Duke of Normandy. As such, this Herring was given the Norman title of Viscount. Generations later, another Viscount Herring supported William the Conqueror, who sailed from Normandy and overthrew the English King Harold II during the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Viscount Herring then remained in England to help William hold onto his new kingdom. He was then given the English title of Baronet.
That’s where the ancient history stops. It agrees with my genetic testing, which indicates Nordic ancestry in the distant past and then more recent ancestry from France and the British Isles. In recent research, I have found a number of Herrings on the British Peerage website; however, it appears that the records only go back to the early 1600s. These Herrings are associated with Lambeth Palace in London, and one Herring (Thomas Edward) was even the Archbishop of Canterbury (head of the church in England). Looks like I’ll need to do some sleuthing!
The Herrings in Minnesota
Getting back to the Maine Herrings, my branch of them ended up in Minnesota after Robert Lowe Herring’s daughter, Charlotte, married William Weymouth. They migrated with their daughter, Olive, to Ripon, Wisconsin, perhaps for the opportunity of timber or their own farmland. Olive married a Mainer named John Andrew Potter, and they were one of the pioneer founding families of Springfield, Minnesota, where my mother was born a few generations later. The family was known for their Hereford cattle breeding operation, and they owned the Potter Stockyards in Springfield.
I don’t know if we’ll ever have the chance to return to Guilford, but I was so thankful for this opportunity to connect more with my family’s history and to meet “new” relatives. After two days in Guilford, we drove to Bangor and then flew home. This eleven-day trip was epic on so many levels, and I’m a different person because of it.
Conclusion
I felt the most “at home” in Maine. That’s probably because the landscape is similar to Minnesota’s. It’s wilder and has more “natural” nature than states like Connecticut or Vermont. The land just “is” and doesn’t seem like it’s been specially preserved as natural. However, Maine and its kind people have a hardscrabble existence. Piscataquis County has the least densely populated area in Maine, just over 17,000 people (only 3.9 people per square mile), although it’s the size of Connecticut. Social challenges like drugs and poverty show in the houses and the people. There’s an underlying feel that the state is more like one portrayed in a Stephen King novel than a cozy seaside mystery novel.
I enjoyed reconnecting with Russ’s relatives and seeing sites related to his family. He feels a bit bad that his family didn’t found a bunch of towns like mine did, but I remind him that my ancestors made it here about a hundred years earlier than his. There were more opportunities to found towns then.
Seeing the sites involved in the beginning of our country has driven home the values that went into the conflicts. I’ve vowed to do what I can to uphold those values and continue the legacies my ancestors began.
This trip also brought a whole new meaning to my traditional holiday dish of pickled herring. (For some strange reason, Russ doesn’t share my delight in this culinary delicacy.) I have an enhanced appreciation for it now that I know more about my Herring ancestors.
That’s it. The trip’s done, finally! But the effects will reverberate for years to come, I’m sure.
Russ and I left Waterbury and meandered through the rest of Vermont and New Hampshire on our way to Maine. Our goal was a small town north of Bangor named Guilford, which my ancestors founded. But on our six-hour road trip, we took a slight jog to Freedom, Maine, to visit The Lost Kitchen, a place featured in one of our favorite cooking shows.
The Kitchen is run by Chef Erin French and her crew and is named after a restaurant she once owned in Belfast, Maine. She lost the restaurant because she had a really mean husband who closed it down and fired everyone while Erin went into treatment for substance abuse. (You can read all about it in her memoir, Finding Freedom.) She also lost custody of her son to the mean husband. But Erin got clean and slowly pulled herself up by her Maine rubber bootstraps. She ditched the husband, regained contact with her son, and began her own mini restaurant in a refurbished Airstream trailer.
She still has her trailer, but along the way, she was able to buy an old mill in her hometown of Freedom. It’s situated on a pond in the middle of town. I’d been to Freedom in the past – once filled up at a gas station there and bought a red T-shirt that featured a moose filling his Model T with gas that said something about Beautiful Downtown Freedom, Maine. I swear, that T-shirt lasted twenty years! I wore it every time I worked out, and it served me well. It is long gone, however.
I was excited to return to the town and visit Erin’s Lost Kitchen site that we’d seen so often on TV. Her show is on the Magnolia Food Network, which is available via streaming through Discovery+. We’d watched all her episodes, which focus on her local farm-to-table foods that she feeds to guests (chosen by a lottery, which we entered last year but did not win). Her restaurant is open for dinner at all times of year, except for winter, when the staff hibernates.
Our fall drive through New Hampshire would have been beautiful except for the leaf colors muted by drought and a viewshed clouded by rainy mist. When we arrived at The Lost Kitchen mill, we visited the kitchen’s café, which features fresh-baked goods and other light lunch fare. We ordered a candied apricot and ginger scone. It turned out to be fresh-from-the-oven warm. OMG, so flaky and good!
In addition to the café, Erin also has a cooking store on-site. I bought some candlestick stickum (to make taper candles stick in their holders despite the candles or the holders being off-kilter), a pastry brush (which we needed for our cabin), a sourdough bread-rising bowl, and a gluten-free cookbook that one of the staff members (who we saw on TV!) recommended.
Then we went back outside and wandered around the grounds. We crossed the famous bridge over the mill pond, which is featured in the TV show, and ended up buying yet another scone (not so warm this time) and eating it in the outdoor dining area near Erin’s Airstream.
One thing that struck me is that the mill site looked smaller in real life than it does on TV. But it was still exciting to see it. Also, it’s surrounded by old Maine houses that could use paint jobs. (Which they would never show on TV.) That’s one thing that struck me about our drive through this state. I’ve been to Maine several times over the years, but I don’t recall so many houses that need attention. I fear that the state and its occupants are suffering financially.
We did not glimpse Erin or her new husband, Michael (a media executive who probably helped get her show on TV), but we were still so thankful to spend a bit of time in the reality of this place. Methinks that Erin’s ex is eating his heart out now. (Smile.)
Then we hit the road to Guilford. More on that, next!
Here’s wishing you a Merry Christmas the Minnesota way! I took this photo near my cabin. It’s a typical rural Minnesota scene, except perhaps for the red reflector on the deer’s nose. I found the sign this way — I did not add the reflector! Rudolph’s red nose has since fallen off, so I’m glad I took the photo before that happened. This sign provided the design for our custom-made Christmas cards this year — the first time I’ve done that and maybe not the last. Because I retired this year, I’ve had time to write cards and pop them in the mail. It’s been fun “going retro” this season.
We hope you have a wonderful, whimsical holiday, and thank you for reading.
The next stop on our New England road trip was Manchester, Connecticut, and the beautiful Wickham Park. We chose this particular park because one of Russ’s cousins was a long-term manager of it, and it has connections to Russ’s family. Although Russ’s cousin Jeff is retired, he still works at the park “part-time” as director emeritus. That’s in quotation marks because, although his official position is part-time, we suspect he spends much more time at the park!
Just off Interstate 84, the park is managed under a nonprofit, private foundation and was created in 1961. It contains 280 acres of gardens, fields, woodlands, ponds, and sports facilities. People can even get married there in one of two stunning venues, including a log cabin. The entry fee is very reasonable ($7).
The majority of the park was a gift from businessman and inventor Clarence Wickham. If you’ve ever used an envelope with a little plastic window in it for the address, you’ve used one of Clarence’s inventions.
We received a personal tour from Jeff and his wife. We didn’t have time to tour the entire park (which would take more than a day, anyway), so we only saw the Irish Garden, the Italian Shrine, the Lotus Garden, the Oriental Garden, the Scottish Garden, and the Nature Center.
The highlight of the trip was a tour of a new garden that’s not open yet to the public. It’s named for Jeff and Russ’s family. (I’m not going to divulge that name here, but if you go to the park, it will be obvious). It was conceived by Jeff and his wife, financed by the family and donors, and built with the help of park staff. It celebrates the relationship between art and the natural world, showcasing sculptures and other art forms, including topiaries sculpted from plants. It even sports an observation tower and labyrinth. Some bureaucratic matters are still being finalized, but as soon as the paperwork is complete, the art park will open to the public.
The place exudes peace. If we lived in the area, I’m sure it would be one of our favorite places to visit and hold family gatherings. As it is, we live over a thousand miles away. So, we’ll have to visit it in our memories.
Next up: Two historic Connecticut homes.
For previous posts about our trip, view:
Here’s yet another side detour from my New England travelog. Don’t worry, I’ll get back to it!
The other night Russ and I meandered around the backroads north of Duluth, joining many others who parked their cars in random spots and looked up to the spectacle happening in the sky.
That spectacle was the northern lights. I took these photos the second night of the show at about 8:30 p.m. It was so kind of the aurora to happen before bedtime! We found a spot on a gravel road where we could see a whitish curtain of aurora on the horizon. We first stopped at a town hall but there were too many lights, so we went back down the road until we found a dark area. I took a few test shots with my phone camera and wowza! Jackpot.
A green curtain filled the sky, with some red overtones. As the lights continued to dance, the red intensified. This color is rare in auroras.
Here’s an explanation from a local astronomer, Astro Bob (King). I don’t totally understand it, but here’s what he said about that storm:
Red aurora occurs high up in the atmosphere at an altitude of around 150-300 miles. Green emission happens at lower altitudes, around 75 miles. Both are produced when incoming charged particles strike and energize oxygen atoms. After the impacts, the atoms release that energy in the form of green and red light when they return to their original relaxed state.
At high altitude, the number of atoms drops sharply — it’s basically a hard vacuum up there. After it’s struck by a charged particle, an oxygen atom needs almost two minutes to release that energy. If a neighboring atom were to bump into it during the transition, it would short-circuit the process. But because there are so few atoms at that altitude, oxygen has time to release red light before a collision occurs.
There’s so little oxygen to begin with at high altitude, a strong storm is required to crank up enough oxygen atoms to produce the red aurora. Seeing red is a good sign that a significant storm is underway. Overall, the Nov. 11 storm reached the G4 (severe) level, with aurora reported in all 50 states (including Hawaii) and as far south as the tropics.
A farm house and barn stood off to the side and provided more visual interest to the shots. Eventually, the cold got the better of us and we crawled back into our car to return to our modest home filled with artificial light.
Russ and I decided to see New England in the fall. We began our road trip earlier this month in New York City even though this mid-Atlantic state is not technically part of New England. We landed in NYC because Russ’s son lives there. We wanted to visit him and he planned to join us for the first few days of our ten-day trip.
Besides the colors, our other goal was to visit sites relevant to ourselves and our ancestors. But first, some fun in NYC! This was not our first visit. In 2019 we dropped in just before COVID hit. (See “Unicorns in New York City!” and “Images.”)
We booked a hotel in Brooklyn. The place looked great online but when we arrived, we were surprised to see it lay in a gritty neighborhood filled with graffiti. We never felt unsafe, but we definitely knew we were not in Duluth anymore!
We’d agreed to spend most of a day on Governor’s Island, a 172-acre former military installation in the heart of the harbor that’s reachable only by ferry. Native Americans used to fish there and gather nuts from the island’s plentiful trees. After colonization, the Dutch promptly set about cutting down those trees, and established a sawmill and fort. The island’s location made it a strategic military base. It was occupied later by the British and the U.S. Army. In more recent days, the island was the site of an historic meeting between President Ronald Reagan and Russian leader Mikhail Gorbachev.
Now the island is managed by several entities, including the National Park Service. The island is a car-free zone, so after disembarking from the ferry, we walked around. Later, in a fit of classic tourism, we elected to pedal the island in a dorky four-person bike surrey.
Besides old brick army personnel quarters and homes, the island sports eateries, an urban farm, a private spa, and art installations. Given my Sea Grant background, my favorite artwork was named “The Field Station of the Melancholy Marine Biologist.” Ensconced in an old military building, the mixed-media work “suggests an abandoned research outpost filled with scientific objects, instruments, artifacts, and samples. Through the windows, the viewer finds a scene preserved in time—a staged moment that invites you to imagine the life of a solitary researcher faced with the realities of a dark future defined by declining ocean health and climate change.” (Art installation sign text.)
The island offers great views of Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty, and the harbor. Once back on the mainland, we attended the Broadway musical “Six,” which is about Henry the 8th’s six ill-fated wives. Given the topic, one would expect a depressing show, but it comes off full of female empowerment and strength. I highly recommend it!
Day 2 took us to Russ’s hometown of Old Saybrook, Connecticut. More on that, next.
A rare show lit up the sky above our cabin last night. Russ and I meandered down roads in the dark, feeling our way by the gravel crunching under our shoes. We made it to a bog that has a good view north.
As the aurora silently danced above in curtains of reds and greens, lightning bugs danced closer to the ground, their feeble white lights the last of summer.
If you’d like to see my photo page with lots of other images (organized by topic: water/wood/stone/sky/travel and lighthouses) please visit my photography page and choose a topic: https://mariezwrites.com/photography/.
Russ and I have been biking short sections of the 150+ mile-long Mesabi Trail in northeastern Minnesota. Stretching from the Mississippi River to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, the trail will be complete in the next year or two. At that point, it will be 165 miles long, making it one of the longest paved trails in the country.
We’ve biked the trail twice this summer (and many times in the past – a list of other posts included at the end). Those recent trips weren’t very noteworthy, so I didn’t blog about them.
This section of the trail took us between two iron ore mining towns. We began in Keewatin, which was formed during the iron ore mining boom in the early 20th century. The town’s name comes from the Ojibwe word for “north” or “north wind,” and the soil is a rusty red from all the iron it contains.
The 11-mile round trip seemed like a gradual climb both ways to me. I’m not sure how that worked! Only one short, steep hill gave me pause, otherwise it was smooth cycling. The first part out of Keewatin follows an old highway/road that’s no longer in use.
We passed several lakes and mine pits, namely O’Brien Reservoir, Hawkins Mine Pit, and LaRue Pit Lake. A cold rain shower caught us about halfway to Nashwauk. I had to stop and clean off my sunglasses. Sometimes I think they need little windshield wipers! The rain didn’t last long, so we kept on going and the breeze dried our clothes.
When we reached Nashwauk, we stopped at an overlook at the Hawkins Mine Pit. It used to be an open pit iron ore mine but is now unused and filled with water. Steep red and tan cliffs topped with green trees line the “lake.” As we admired the view, we heard some squawking that sounded suspiciously like peregrine falcons. I’ve heard that they sometimes nest on the mine pit ledges, so perhaps there was a nest at the Hawkins Pit?
It’s believed that Nashwauk was named after a river in New Brunswick, Canada. The word is said to be from the Algonquin language and means “land between.”
As we turned around and headed back to Keewatin, we noticed a spur trail with a sign about the LaRue Pit Lake. The sign said the area features a boat landing, fishing pier, and is a tourist attraction. We decided to check it out.
The spur trail came out on a paved road. Unsure which way to go, we chose to turn right, which ended up being the correct direction. The road took us down a steep hill to a picturesque lake. It looked like the “tourist attraction” was still under construction – no grass, just bare dirt that was being graded. An angler floated offshore in his boat, trying his luck with the fish. The LaRue Pit began as an underground mine in 1903-1905. The park looks like it will be a nice place, once finished.
Then we biked back UP the road and rejoined the trail. Not far from the spur, we stopped at a memorial we had passed earlier. The name on the weathered white wooden cross was James Dorgan and it was dated 12/22/1973. The memorial looked in such good shape, we weren’t sure if that was the day he died or the day he was born. Once back home, I did a bit of sleuthing and discovered that it was his death date. James was a former Keewatin resident living in St. Paul who died in a car accident when he stopped to help his ex-wife, whose car was stalled. Another driver apparently hit him.
We were impressed by how well the memorial has been kept up for fifty-two years. Colorful plastic flowers decorated a flower box, and a wind chime hung from a post nearby. Solar lights illuminate the memorial at night.
We mostly had the trail to ourselves. Saw a few squirrels hightailing it across the pavement. Saw a few walkers. We passed a couple of other cyclists in town. Heard some ATVs but didn’t see any.
From rainstorms to pit lakes to falcons to ghosts, this is a good stretch to ride to get a feel for how important mining is to this part of the country.
Wishing everyone a good Labor Day Weekend!
For more information on other sections of the Mesabi Trail, check out my previous posts:
Biking the Mesabi Trail from Ely West
The Mesabi Bike Trail from Mt. Iron to Kinney, MN
Biking the Mesabi Trail from Hibbing to Chisholm
Biking Along the Giant’s Ridge
Biking Across Minnesota’s Tallest Bridge
I’ll be doing a readings from my short story collection, The Path of Totality and my blog memoir, Meander North at this book fair, which is held just south of Superior, Wisconsin. I’ll also be selling copies of these and my other books, plus puzzles made from my photos. If you’re in the area, please turn out and support local authors!
Marie's Meanderings 