Temple, January 1

January 1, 2015 / Ellen Kolb

I made my customary New Year’s Day drive out to the Monadnock region, deciding at the last minute not to do the fun little 5k race (walk, in my case) in Temple that would have set me back $20. Instead, I continued to the Wapack trailhead in Sharon. No trails or uphill work for me this day – lazy, out-of-shape, call me what you will. I did my 5k on local roads, blessedly free of traffic and ice.

Temple Road in Sharon; Mt. Monadnock in the distance

It wasn’t a brisk walk. I kept stopping to take pictures. Most of the photos are unusable thanks to midday’s harsh lighting. I like this one, though. My route today was flat, except for the gentlest rise on Temple Road where I got a glimpse of Mount Monadnock.

Have a wonderful new year, with plenty of Granite State walks.

Connect, slowly

November 10, 2014January 28, 2026 / Ellen Kolb / 6 Comments

I live in a textured place. Nothing dramatic or showy, but interesting. Hills here, watercourses there, ledge all over the place: it adds up to very few straight roads and not nearly enough bridges for convenience. The Nashua River in southern New Hampshire could use a few more bridges, and if you don’t believe me, try driving through Nashua during rush hour. Hollis, the next town upstream, is a much quieter place. It gets by quite comfortably with one bridge over the river, connecting a small quiet town with a much busier one. There’s something about this bridge, though, that speaks to me less about connection than about rest and pause. I wouldn’t be surprised if someday I saw a sign here saying Don’t be in such a hurry to get from here to there. Stop awhile.

Close to Home

November 3, 2014November 3, 2014 / Ellen Kolb / 3 Comments

A few short weeks ago, this was the view of Blueberry Island from a park near my house. Fall was coming. I knew that within days I’d be wearing a sweater and raking the lawn (and I was right), but on this particular afternoon, something drew me to this dock, a three-mile walk from my house. It’s on the town beach at a modest-size lake. I used to take my kids here for swimming lessons every summer. This is where my son got a trophy at the cardboard boat race the library used to sponsor. In this park is the hill – or the accursed hill, as I sometimes called it – that I used for uphill intervals as I trained for my first half-marathon. Near the beach is the community tennis court where my mother-in-law liked to take her grandchildren.

We lived in town when this property was acquired. A family that had operated a summer camp on the site for many years offered the land for a ridiculously low price, and at town meeting (which we still had back then), residents voted to accept the offer. I didn’t know then how much time I’d be spending at the park and its trails and its little beach.

On this day, camera in hand, I simply stood on the dock and breathed in the early-fall air at the end of a workday. The place, the view, the sheer delight of not having to be anywhere else: I was home.

Urban walk, unexpected delight

October 28, 2014 / Ellen Kolb

Dawn, Manchester, New Hampshire

I was in Manchester this morning at the crack of dawn, walking on a sidewalk just off Elm Street, when I felt a sprinkle. The barest hint of rain, not even enough to speckle my glasses. It was over almost as soon as it started. Then I looked up: a perfect rainbow, at sunrise. That’s a fine a sight as anything I’ve seen on a trail lately. Enjoy the unexpected things.

Enfield

June 27, 2014 / Ellen Kolb

I seldom get to the Dartmouth/Lake Sunapee region of New Hampshire, despite its many attractions. My husband The Runner had a race around Mascoma Lake in Enfield recently, and I went along for the ride on a warm early-summer day.

On a quiet Sunday morning, a walk along wildflower-lined Route 4-A was no trouble. Tree swallows were everywhere! I seldom see those birds where I live. I spent time on the quiet paths of the Shrine of Our Lady of LaSalette. Enfield Shaker Village is just across the street, and it surely rates a visit on another trip. I turned onto Main Street, the only bridge over the lake, to get to the Northern Rail Trail on the lake’s north side. I could have gone west to Lebanon or (on an ambitious day) southeast to Grafton, roughly following U.S. Route 4. This was a lazy day, though, and I simply meandered on the trail and on town roads as I waited for the runners to come through.

Never turn down a Sunday drive with someone special. You might discover a lovely spot.

Marker honoring the Enfield NH SHakers

A path at the Shrine of Our Lady of LaSalette

Mascoma Lake, looking west from Enfield’s Main Street

Northern Rail Trail, Enfield, NH: wide and shady

Runners in the sun while I’m in the shade on a rail trail bridge

Mr. Stiles’s lesson: Share what you love about NH

August 17, 2013August 17, 2017 / Ellen Kolb / 3 Comments

Share what you love about New Hampshire. You never know who might be listening.

In August 2013, I read in the newspaper about the passing of a New Hampshire gentleman named Walter Stiles. The published tributes indicate that he was a generous man in every respect, devoted to his family, active in his community. I met him once over twenty years before his death, had a single unforgettable conversation with him on the subject of lilacs, and never saw him again. In the short time we chatted, he managed to convey his great and contagious affection for this state and its natural beauty.

We were at a political gathering, not a social one, and there was a lot of edgy debate among attendees that day. No matter. By some chance, I was seated next to Mr. Stiles, who I think was a state representative at the time. His kindness and dignity were a kind of antidote to the tension in the room. I asked him what he did when he wasn’t serving in his political office. I realize now that he could have said any number of things, for as his obituary made clear, he was a man of many parts. What he chose to tell me about was his interest in horticulture, particularly lilacs.

I had never paid much attention to lilacs before that time, to tell you the truth. They were just sort of there. Listening to Walter Stiles, I began to realize what I’d been missing. He told me about the Governor’s Lilac Commission, which was a fairly new group at that time. He told me that the lilac was the state flower, and that he hoped to see more people plant them around their homes and schools and towns. He talked about the flower’s wonderful fragrance (which I had never stopped to notice). He told me about the people working with the Commission and with their own local garden clubs to encourage cultivation.

When the day’s proceedings were over, he bid me a cordial farewell and went on his way. He must have been grinning to himself, knowing better than I did that he had dropped an idea in front of me and that I was sure to pick it up eventually.

As I said, that was many years ago. Since then, lilacs planted by my husband have grown to line one side of our yard. I wait impatiently every spring for those gorgeous blossoms. I fill vases with them and bring them into the house so the fragrance can fill the rooms. Wherever I see lilacs in blossom, I appreciate all the colors from white to deepest purple. I’m grateful to everyone who has gone to the trouble of planting the bushes, which take a few years to establish. As I learned to look for lilacs, I learned to keep my eyes open for the other flowers all over New Hampshire. The variety astonishes me anew every year.

It’s no accident that I do more hiking as I get older. I have more to appreciate and enjoy. I’ve benefited from many people who have taken the time to share with me their love of this state’s beauty. From such folks, I am learning more all the time, and I have all the more reason to savor my time on the trails.

If you’re a fan of being outdoors, I hope you’ll do what Mr. Stiles did: share your enthusiasm. I only met him once, and I never had the chance to thank him for expanding my horizons just a bit. I’m guessing he’d consider those lilacs in my yard thanks enough.