Bingham Hill

Last December I received in the mail from my second cousin, John, in Andover, Connecticut a DVD made by a local high school student, Evie Murphy, for her senior project.  She told the history of the town through the biography of Joel Foote Bingham, John's and my great great uncle.  The DVD also mentioned Joel's parents, Cyrus and Abigail Foote Bingham, our great great great grandparents, who lived and raised Joel in the family homestead in Andover, where John has now lived for fifteen years, lovingly and beautifully restoring the house and surrounding acreage.

Meantime, a pen and ink portrait of Abigail had been hanging in my living room since I inherited it from my grandmother years ago.  A plain woman, it must be admitted, but with a definite family resemblance!

I had not been fully aware of my direct descent from Abigail or of the fact that she had lived on the farm and was buried in the town cemetery.  It was time to return Abigail to her own parlor!  With John's enthusiastic concurrence, I shipped the portrait to Andover, and a week or so later, last Sunday, my daughter and I took the train from Grand Central Station in New York City to New Haven, switched trains to Hartford, and arrived there in the late morning, to be picked up by John and driven the 15 miles or so to Andover, where branches of our families settled in the 17th century.  

A long continuous history of family ownership and possession.  The property has never been out of family hands since its original settlement.

The house began as a 17th century Colonial clapboard two-over-two, with a central front door. Additions were made to the back in the 18th century, and further additions over the years have resulted, after renovations, in a charming enclosed porch where we ate a delicious lunch of fresh produce from the garden - tomato aspic more delectable than anything I have ever tasted - and corn from a local farmer, prepared by John's companion, Arlene, whom he originally hired to be his landscape designer but who shortly became his life's partner.   

Across the street from the house is "our" beautiful Connecticut barn.  Originally on the same plot of land, the barn was segregated from the house when the Hebron Road was built between.  

Behind the house are the wonderful fruit, vegetable and flower gardens Arlene and John have created out of a former near wilderness.  Where trees grew nearly up to the house when John arrived fifteen years ago, now tomatoes, cucumbers, sunflowers, sweet peas, and a mouth-watering and eye-dazzling array of natural pleasures abound!  

Arlene took a picture of my daughter and me by the original front door.

Welcome home, Abigail!  We leave you leaning against the back of a lovely desk, upon which sits a photo of your sister and of your grand-daughter, Mary Perry Payne Bingham, John's and my great grandmother!  On the mantel is your photograph, from which, possibly, your portrait was drawn, and one of your prettily embroidered dress white bonnets - unfortunately, not the one you're wearing in the portrait - enclosed in a glass case.

Down the road from the farmhouse is the cemetery where you and Cyrus are buried.  Close to the road, the gravestone etchings are nearly completely worn away.   So it's lucky John is there to interpret the stones.  Who will carry on when John's time is done?  Can you reach down into the next generation to touch the mind and heart of one of your great great great great grandchildren to occupy, care for, and continue the family legacy and tradition at Bingham Hill?