“Gifts from Quarry Farm” (A Quarry Farm Testimonial)

EDITOR’S NOTE: We occasionally feature testimonials from recent Quarry Farm Fellows and Residents, which combine conversational illustrations of their research and writing process with personal reflections on their experiences as Twain scholars, teachers, and fellows. Applications for Quarry Farm Fellowships are due each Winter. Find more information HERE.
Michael Czarnecki is a poet, photographer, oral memoirist and small press publisher. In 1995 Michael gave up other work to devote his time and life to creativity. Since then he has made his living solely through creative work. In the last 30 years he has given hundreds of featured readings throughout the country. His Poems Across America Tour in 2013, a 14-week journey, featured a reading in each of the 48 contiguous states. Michael has had 18 chapbooks and books published, including The Rockwell Museum: Poetry Inspired by the Collection, a collection of ekphrastic poems with accompanying paintings. As a photographer he has produced three traveling photo shows and 15 of his photos have been used on covers of books.
Michael Czarnecki
In 2022 and 2023 I facilitated writing workshops at Quarry Farm. These were programs sponsored by the ARTS Council of the Southern Finger Lakes and organized by Casey Winston, Director of Public Programs. A group of about 12 writers gathered on the beautiful veranda for brief instructions then fanned out around the farm to write. Everyone then gathered back on the veranda where we shared the words we had written, just as Mark Twain did every evening after dinner. The inside of the house was off limits, being occupied by a visiting scholar. I’m sure everyone there, including myself, would have loved to have been able to go inside to explore. Little did I know then that in the near future I would be one of the fortunate ones to be able to live in the house for two weeks after being awarded a Quarry Farm Fine Arts Fellowship for my photography.

 I arrived in the afternoon and was met by Steve, the caretaker at the farm. Steve toured me around the house and clued me in on a few housekeeping bits of info I needed to know. The rest of the day was for “settling in.” Unpacking clothes and food, getting my bearings, outside and in. That was not a simple task, especially inside this large house that had many additions added on over its early decades. I found myself turning the wrong way a few times, thinking I was going toward where I wanted to be but realizing I should have turned the other way!

My day always begins with a ritual centered around my pot of green tea. The first morning (and all subsequent mornings) I took my tea at a table on the veranda. As I was turning back into the house after taking the teapot outside I noticed a “gift” that was left for me on the veranda floor near the front door: a dead Northern Short-tailed Shrew that I assumed was left there for me by Greg, the Quarry Farm resident cat! I felt honored to have been welcomed in that way by this more permanent resident of the farm.

That very first morning also revealed another gift. There was a slight mist in the air and as I walked around the southeast corner of the veranda the early morning sun’s rays dispersed in beams through the mist and branches of the small tree. A moment of visual enlightenment.

The view from the veranda takes in the sloping long grassy lawn, with woods beyond and far off distant dark hills stretching south into Pennsylvania as far as the eye can see. In Mark Twain’s day, the view took in the city of Elmira and the Chemung River, which today is blocked by the forested landscape. I spent many hours on the veranda, when I wasn’t exploring outside taking photos or inside writing. Morning tea and breakfast, evening dinner, at night with the veranda lit by a few lights. A comfortable, beautiful space to sit quietly, take in the surroundings, have a few contemplative thoughts.

 

“A dead Northern Short-tailed Shrew”

“A moment of visual enlightenment.”

“Morning tea”
After the meaningful experiences I and others had at those two previous workshops, while staying at Quarry Farm I desired to have other writers experience that, too. So, I invited six poet friends to join me for a day of food, conversation and creativity. Over lunch on the veranda we shared and discussed words of Mark Twain’s that we each had brought. We then spent the afternoon writing and after dinner, on the veranda, we shared what we had written, along with some sips of Scotch Whisky, Twain’s favorite drink. It was a moving experience for all involved.

A couple of days later we held a workshop with about a dozen writers and one painter, organized like the previous years, by Casey and the ARTS Council. No food or whisky this time, but writing and sharing, once again, on the veranda as dark settled in.

 Besides the gathering of writers, my wife Carolyn spent two nights at the house. Tamar, one of the six writers who came for the day, stayed overnight as she came all the way from New Jersey. Casey also spent an overnight in the house. It was a very special experience for each of them.

“I invited six poet freinds to join me for a day of food, conversation, and creativity.”

It may sound like there was little time for just myself. Far from it. I treasured the alone time in that storied house and grounds. Being an early riser, I had full days to explore the environs, inside and out.

 Inside, I worked in various upstairs rooms. Each had its own special charm. A room surrounded by books. Another off to the side, adjacent to a bedroom. My favorite place to work was actually the most rustic. It was a dormer room centered above the veranda. It contained a card table, two wooden chairs, a sofa bed, round rug and a potted tree. The view was similar to the view from the veranda, but from higher up. A fascinating little tidbit of information I discovered about the room was that sheets would be waved from here to communicate with family at the Langdon house in the city below. Of course that was way back then, before the trees took over the landscape.

“My favorite place to work was actually the most rustic.  It was a dormer room centered above the veranda.”

Outside, I explored the grounds and beyond. In doing some research I learned about two chimneys from long ago disappeared dwellings that were still standing nearby. One was from Ellerslie, the children’s playhouse and the other, a little further away, was reputed to be from John T. Lewis’s house, a neighbor and friend of Mark Twain, who was one of the people Jim in Huckleberry Finn, was based upon. I succeeded in locating both of the chimneys. I tried to imagine what it was like when the children would play at Ellerslie and what John T. Lewis’s life was like in the house that once stood there. That was difficult to do, in part because the surroundings have changed so much from those days well over a century ago.

Also nearby, Virginia Creeper plants were climbing up trees and have started turning red. Mark Twain referenced the plant in a letter:

”On the peak of the hill is an old arbor roofed with bark and covered with the vine you call the American Creeper. Its green is almost bloodied with red.” (Letter to Dr. John Brown. September 4, 1874 at Quarry Farm)

“I tried to imagine what it was like when the children would play at Ellerslie…”

“Virginia Creeper plants were climbing up trees and
have started turning red.”

Another place that fascinated me was the location of the study where Mark Twain did his writing. The location is a short distance uphill from the house. To get there, he would walk up stone steps that are still in existence, though somewhat eroded. (I hope this is on the “restore” list of things to do here at Quarry Farm.) The steps and the location of the study had some draw on me. How many times did Twain walk up and down these steps over all the years he spent time here? What would he be thinking as he walked up the steps to begin a day of writing? What would he be thinking as he walked down the steps after a day of writing? From seeing old photos, I knew the study had an open vista to the distances. Not anymore. Again, now the view is of the thick forest trees.

My only disappointment while there was that the weather was too nice! Almost every day was sunny and warm. I had been hoping for some weather like Mark Twain wrote about in describing his study:

“It is cozy nest, with just room in it for a sofa and a table and three or four chairs and when the storms sweep down the remote valley and the lightning flashes above the hills beyond, and the rain beats on the roof over my head, imagine the luxury of it!” (Letter to Joseph Twichell. June 11, 1874 at Quarry Farm)

“The steps and the location of the study had some draw on me.”

I can only imagine.

The most “weather” I experienced was a day of fog. Instead of just being down in the valley, it hovered over Quarry Farm for most of the morning.

In the time leading up to my stay at Quarry Farm a number of friends wondered about ghosts there. I didn’t delve into that aspect of Quarry Farm history, though there were various reports of the place being haunted. I didn’t hear any footsteps in the night or doors suddenly being shut. But. . .

 

 The most “weather” I experienced
was a day of fog.

The night that Tamar stayed over I was suddenly awakened by a voice calling “Michael.” Tamar had been a little concerned about staying overnight in this old house, so when I was suddenly awoken by hearing my name called out I thought maybe it was Tamar. I listened for some more sounds. Nothing. In the morning I asked her if she had called out to me. She hadn’t. Hmmm. After that, two other times while sleeping I was awoken by a voice calling out “Michael.” There was nobody else in the house either of those times. This was not something I experienced otherwise, in other places. Of the three times, one was definitely a male voice, one a female and the other indiscernible. I have yet to come up with some sense of understanding what that was about.

 There is an energy that can be felt at Quarry Farm. I’m sure that it is an energy that emanated with Mark Twain and his words and that will course through time and space for eons to come. After my stay here at Quarry Farm, that energy is a gift that I will carry with me for the time and space I have left to come.

(All photographs by Michael Czarnecki.)