Betsey and Big Dolly

I drove past this house in Derry NH every day and always wanted to take a photo but each time we passed, either my family was too embarrassed to let me stop, or the light was wrong. I made time on our last evening in the USA to get photos of the nearby yellow school-bus depot and of the dolls on the porch.

When I called by, the owner of the house was in the front garden supervising a clutch of children who were really concerned to have a strange (and I mean VERY strange) man with a weird accent call at the gate, but I was made most welcome and she launched into an enthusiastic account of Big Dolly's life.

"Well, you know, there's a bit of history to these dolls. Do come on in."

Big Dolly had been in her family for over thirty years, mostly at the old family home and B&B in Martha's Vineyard before moving up to New Hampshire where she now lives on the front porch all the year round. This means that she has to be suitably dressed, not only for the weather, but also for special occasions such as July 4th, Halloween and Christmas. This week she is holding a tea party with her friend Betsey, but next week it's time for school so she will wear her school clothes and carry her book-bag and lunch-box.

Betsey has been staying on the front porch for a while too. One day a lady called at the house to say that, like me, she had been driving by the house regularly and wanted to know more about Big Dolly. When she heard the story, she offered to bring round her dolly that had been living in her kitchen for 15 years while the family grew up. Apparently her kids now found the presence of a life-size doll at their meals a bit disturbing. Since Big Dolly looked so lonely on winter nights, both owners agreed it would be nice to have Betsey join her for company.

A week ago, back in Maine, I had spotted a barn with old bicycles bolted to the outside wall. When I called by to take pictures, the owner came out to chat and he turned out to be a serious collector of bicycles. I had a tour of his workshop and it made me realise just how many rural people have "projects" such as restoring old vehicles, motorcycles or boats. Maybe it's the long winters, but I think it's part of a frontier tradition to be able to make and mend things and be proud of it. It seemed to me that just living year-round in a wooden house in Maine was a full time project in itself.

I vow that one day I will drive some long, random, scenic highway and stop at any house that catches my eye. I'm particularly drawn to strange lawn ornaments and other features that Americans use to personalise their otherwise rather generic houses. It's always nice to take photos, but much better to knock on the door and express interest.  Of course it's risky; you may have to stay for dinner!