T
hick mud oozed between the tires of my car,
thicker still as we made our way to the pig stye. There
monsters of the barnyard languished in deep smelly pools,
one atop the other. My houseguest loved every minute
of our visit, even better when we visited the chicken and
duck coops, passed skeletal remnants of ancient agrarian
machinery, huge plantings of sunflowers, wildflowers
and corn. Returning to the farmstand, he gravitated to
the bakehouse aromas crossing the yard.
Coming upon the worn white shingled farmhouse with
its medley of furniture and objects on the front porch
constitutes my first vision of Fairview Farm in the summer
of 2000. Ensconced in Bridge Hampton, New York's most
desirable neighborhood, I pondered, how did it survive
and I worried about its continued survival. All changed
when I met its owner, Harry Ludlow, and came to know
his family.
HYLAND