Growing up in Denver, I used to dream about New England autumn. Back in the Mile High, the trees turn colors, as all seasonal plants do, but nothing holds a candle to the brilliance that is New England in the fall. Recently, I found myself engulfed with this wonderful scenery when I visited the Nashoba Valley Winery in Bolton, Ma.
Located forty miles southwest from Boston, the Nashoba Valley is an easy and convenient day trip for anyone with a car. Upon my first look of the surrounding hills, which were full of bright and shifting colors, I honestly looked around for Norman Rockwell’s signature.
The Winery encompasses multiple apple orchards, as well as thousands of feet of grape vines. These serve not only as wonderful backdrops for weddings and picnics, but also as key ingredients for their multitudes of wines and beers.
Walking through the gentle slopes of the orchards, I was constantly on the lookout for wayward apples, missed by eager pickers. Dozens of families with children of all ages began to join me, running between trees, loading the already-heavy bags carried by their parents with more fruit.
Following the trees, I ended up near the back edge of the orchard, where I began to find pieces of discarded machinery from the processing facilities. Looking around, I noticed a small path leading into the thick woods around the edge of the property. Venturing along, there were few other sounds than the crunching of leaves under my boots.
Deeper into the woods, I saw a clearing and started to think I haven’t read nearly enough Frost lately. The mid-afternoon sun filtered through the multicolored leaves, casting slightly-tinted shadows on the ground.
From the Orchards, I headed into the wine-tasting room. The large area appeared to be a converted and restored colonial barn, with thick, wooden beams spanning the ceiling and rich, brown floorboards creaking underfoot. Thousands of bottles of Nashoba Valley Wine were everywhere, the various flavors and vintages waiting to be enjoyed.
As evening approached, the fall air became crisper, and a mist began to settle on the hills around the valley. Hugging my jacket closer to fight off the approaching cold, I had to smile to myself at the thought, “this is how autumn is supposed to be.”
