As those of you who’ve been reading MIND THE MOSS since its genesis may recall, I’m fascinated by the origin of Connecticut’s moniker—The Nutmeg State. Allegedly, the name is an allusion to the Yankee peddlers who roamed the Connecticut carriage roads during the 19th Century. With a cart full of household goods such as pots, pans, and spices, these traveling salesmen perfected the art of door-to-door marketing. But the Connecticut peddlers were so shrewd that according to local legend, they were able to swindle unsuspecting buyers into purchasing wooden nutmegs: hand-carved imitations of the valuable nutmeg seeds that were imported from the South Pacific.
That’s already a pretty weird basis for a state nickname. But there’s an extra layer of peculiarity to The Nutmeg State, and it’s this. The whole wooden nutmeg story might be speculative fiction! Historians have scrutinized the idea at length, noting that the time and labor required to carve lots of wooden nutmegs would likely surpass the profit that a Yankee peddler could have made by selling a few of these phonies to a credulous homeowner. Nonetheless, the legend endures, and it’s been living rent-free in my brain for the last few years. So a few days ago, as I built back my energy from Covid and began taking walks in the woods again, I decided to indulge myself and visit some carriage roads where nutmeggers may or may not have found their marks.
I decided to pay a contemplative visit to Case Mountain Recreation Area.