Back Again to Connamara

Plaque at the Connemara Farm where Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Carl Sandburg and his family lived from 1945 until Mr. Sandburg’s death in 1967. They lived a simple life and surrounded themselves with things with which they were comfortable.

Time’s coming. I can feel it. Time to go again to Connemara to spend a few hours walking the grounds, following the guide through the house, left exactly as it was when the family left in 1967 (after he died, but not long after) and never returned. A quiet place where I can soak up the stories the wallpaper still has to tell, about how to dirty some paper. Up in the cluttered room on the third floor, to try to figure out how it’s done. And yes, to be honest, to indulge in a little hero-worship.

The attic room where Sandburg wrote about a third of his total body of work, including his massive biography of Abraham Lincoln. It’s a little west of Rutherfordton, NC, near the town of Flatrock, and is now a National Park.

2 Replies to “Back Again to Connamara”

    1. I hope you get the chance to visit the farm sometime. The house is just as they left it, including letters on the tables books on the shelves the day-to-day paperwork of a working farm. It’s just fascinating and I really appreciated seeing his writing room up in the upper floors. It’s just like a time capsule. It has the feeling of a place where they could return at any moment and pick up where they left off, and I think it’s really valuable to see all of that in human context.


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Errant Satiety

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