Santarella

Ever see a house like this?

 

Me neither. 

When I passed this charmer in Tyringham, Massachusetts, I might have thought that I'd come upon the set of The Hobbitt had I not known that that's in New Zealand.

This is Santarella, former home of the sculptor Sir Henry Hudson Kitson.  The artist lived and worked here until 1947. 
 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Hudson_Kitson

Originally the carriage house of a colonial homestead, Kitson labored to blend the architecture with the surrounding hills.  As you can see, he was highly successful.  He constructed - well, sculpted - the amazing 80-ton rolling roof from hand-cut sheets of asphalt in multiple colors chosen to coordinate with the fall scenery.  I can't imagine the amount of work.  Or the cost of the upkeep.  Perhaps that's why this lovely place is for sale.

Again.

This masterpiece has changed hands several times since Kitson passed on.  One owner turned it into a museum that gave tours, but I was disappointed to learn that there is no longer any way to get into the home unless you rent one of the out-buildings.  If you do so, you get a complimentary tour.  Since I'm not likely to rent a five bedroom home for myself, it's highly unlikely I will ever see the interior.

If you buy it, remember, you heard about it here.  Invite me over for a tour; I'd love to see the inside.

Pride of the Berkshires....

Did you think I was kidding about the doughnuts yesterday?

Yummy stuff served up by the smiling face of this gal who proudly told me the doughnuts were made fresh daily at their main shop in Great Barrington.

But enough about breakfast, lunch, and dinner here in the Berkshires.  Let's get on with the adventures.

Yesterday we discovered how seasonal the Berkshires are.   Memorial Day is when things start hopping around here.  From the opinions of many local shopkeepers  (nearly all of which included the word "mobbed"), I'm glad I missed that, even if many of the things that might be on the average tourist's to-do list are closed.  I'm happier to get some of the local flavor of a place (including doughnuts) instead of the full-on tourist version.  So, let's start with Truc's Orient Express in Stockbridge.

It was just an interesting place we happened to pass on the road.  A restaurant with a shop in front, evidenced by Asian statuary and ornaments lining the stairs and deck.  As we pulled into the parking lot, we spied the sign that said "Closed".  Sigh. 

We were about to leave when a woman named Trai came out to invite us in.  She opened two rooms, a tent, a loft in the restaurant, welcoming us to check out her wares with pride, not a hint of pressure or avarice.  She spoke of her home land, her trips to Vietnam, the beauty of the country.  She spoke of her crafts, the silks, the jewelry, and her hand in making some of the items in her shop. 

This is Trai.  She has owned this restaurant/Asian gift shop for 36 years.  If she looks as if she is beaming with pride in this photo, she is, and she should be.  The shop is colorful, crowded with lovely things, and all personally arranged by this ambitious and friendly woman. 

Of course, since it was off season, she wasn't open for lunch, but if she takes as much pride in her food as she does in her store, I'm in for a treat when I return.

After this little detour, we visited Hoffman Pottery.  The clay faces in the garden hinted at the artist's sense of whimsy and color.

And the interior did not disappoint.  The room overflowed with colorful, multi-colored coiled pieces, sgraffito mugs, gleaming underglazes. 

 

Elaine Hoffman was getting ready for the season, full of pride as she dusted off her wares.  Just look at her beaming face.

Highs and lows...

So, sometimes when you hand the wheel over to someone else to captain, the ship runs aground.

My friend had a great day planned with two or three sites to visit.  Unfortunately, our GPS was down and we kept getting lost.  Even worse, when we finally arrived at our first destination it was closed.  We consulted Google Maps for the next attraction only to discover that we had arrived in The Land of No Phone Service.  We proceeded to get lost again. 

This happened three times before we gave up and decided to get something to eat.

I was excited about lunch.  I'd heard about this great little Mexican restaurant, Xicohtencatl.  It had been featured on FoodNetwork.  It was highly recommended by a friend who traveled to the Berkshires every summer.

It was closed for lunch.

We had spent over 45 minutes looking for it.

Those were the low spots of the day.

The high was sugar. 

Every time we got lost, we seemed to happen upon a bakery. And we'd buy doughnuts. Lots of doughnuts. 

So what if we couldn't find Herman Melville's house?  We found French crullers!  The Bidwell Museum isn't going to open until the day after we leave?  That's okay, I think I saw a bakery about a mile back. 

Mmmm...chocolate glaze, great soother of souls and solace of the lost.
 
Saint Anthony may be the patron of lost items, but Saint Doughnut must be the patron of lost travelers and poor planners.