Litchfield Green

A story in the Litchfield Monitor in 1803 reported that this wide oval expanse in the center of town was filled with broken fences, woodpiles, and overgrown shrubbery, with hogs, not to mention truants, wandering around at will. Such an image today is all but inconceivable.

Litchfield [1] scores top honors in the New England town green department—a contest not without some stiff competition. The reasons are many—first, there’s its size, which stretches as much as a football field from end to end. Then there is the pleasing collection of clustered trees and monuments that breaks up the space into a highly strollable area. Finally there are the shops [2] and restaurants [3] that line one side, all trying to outdo each other to exude a combination of colonial forthrightness and upscale panache.

Finally, there is Litchfield’s 1828 Congregational Church, itself one of the most pleasing-to-the-eye New England churches you could ever hope to find (and reputedly the most photographed). Just looking up at its white clapboard facade, tapering into a perfect white steeple, is enough to transport you back into the era of tri-corner hats, musketry, petticoats, and breeches.

It’s interesting to know, then, that the church wasn’t on the green more than 50 years before it was moved to make room for a more “fashionable” Gothic church. The original meetinghouse was used as an armory, dance hall, and even a skating rink before a colonial revival effort in the 20th century restored it to its righteous place on the green.