The Old Killingly Hill Church

This area of Putnam was once part of Killingly Hill, the site of an early settlement and anchored by the old circa 1818 First Society church, northeast at the Aspinock crossroad. The church, although not active for many years, continues to be maintained and is a local landmark. Flanked by maples and pines, this quintessential New England scene is photographed particularly in autumn, and frequently visitors with their cameras are crouched in our narrow front yard, trying to capture every bit of pristine beauty. We've witnessed marriages on the granite slab steps of the church and know that this place calls those who know it and has for hundreds of years.

The history of the old church is entwined with every colonial inhabitant in this village, every home, every headstone in the Putnam Heights cemetery. I purchased a history of the church including a transcription of its birth, marriage and death records. There I found most of the inhabitants of this house, at some milestone of life or death. I learned that the roots of the church began in a crude meeting house at the highest point on Killingly Hill. A more formal church was built in the 1700s at the northern end of the common, but later was moved to its present location. Periodically perusing eBay, I have acquired two photographs of the church, but at different periods -- the steeple was altered after a hurricane in the early 1800s.

The blacksmith's daughters told us that this house was built the same year as the church, although there aren't any records that verify this. My theory is that the original "front cape", which is just a center chimney two room structure, with a fireplace in each room, was a hostel of sorts for colonists who may have had to travel some distance in all manner of weather to attend church.

Visible from every east-facing window, the old church is a favorite muse. At sunset, the steeple and weathervane are illuminated pink or gold, depending on the western sky. The moon rises over its hulking silence, and then the sun climbs over the hill behind it as day breaks. There is an unmistakable ebb and flow of hours and days, of generations gone and those to come, the continuation of humankind.