En route to Buffalo, N.Y.
Sun., April 4, 1927
It was clear and cold yesterday when we found a fine place to camp near Monticello, N.Y., so we built a big bonfire to warm us while we ate supper and read. In spite of the ice on the pail this morning, it was simply great--the sun shining and the birds singing, bluebirds, robins, red-winged blackbirds and chickadees, the old familiar friends. I looked for pussy willows, but they have already turned into catkins. The weeping willows wear their marvelous soft spring green and the maples their bright new red.
Before we broke camp the owner of the property paid us a visit. He seemed irritated at first that we had camped on his land, but we took the wind out of his sails by our apologies. I don’t know why we had not sought his permission; we almost always do. But I guess we were so excited by our first trip of the year that we forgot. A good-natured man, he became interested in our fixings.
We have been following the Delaware River through the mountains, on the north and west sides of which the snow still clings. In one pass, beside the road, it was six feet high. This is a Jewish recreational area, and we passed one sanitarium-like hotel after another, each with white iron bedsteads to be seen through the windows. The Hebrew name on each sign post was usually supplemented by “Strictly Kosher” or “For Jews Only.”
After driving through a coal district with kilns along the road, we stopped in the town of Liberty to buy a better light for our tent. A lavender Ford with flowers painted on the doors and gray silk curtains draped back from the windows with gold cord and tassels was slowly driven past by a flashy Italian gentleman with long flowing mustachios outlining his rosy cheeks, and wearing a black fedora canted rakishly--quite unique!
The first of April must have opened the fishing season, for the brooks are lined with fishermen. Sap buckets hang on many maples. Spring is here!