SHEFFIELD, Mass. — The Friday after Thanksgiving was not a day marked by a manic shopping frenzy and a food hangover; at least not for me. I did some of my shopping on Wednesday; enjoyed a late lunch, navigated the packed aisles of the grocery store for pecans and corn syrup. I had other plans, more adventurous plans for Friday (night): owl hunting.

Mind you, I did not literally go hunting for owls with a rifle. I’m pretty sure that’s very illegal and very not in keeping with my preservationist, nature-is-god sort of approach to life. The “Owl Prowl,” which is an annual, nocturnal event held at Bartholomew's Cobble in Ashley Falls, is a two-hour excursion into the fields and woods of the cobble in search of the regions known owl species, namely the great horned, the bard and the screech.

For starters, and I did know this going in, it was darn cold without the sun on my back. Even the moon was shy as we (a group of about 10) wandered through the dark with only our dim flashlights to part the way through the dark woods.

And very quiet excluding the irritating swishing noise of Nylon pants and the one guy with very loud, owl-unfriendly gas.

Rene, our guide, brought along his tape deck (yes, they still exist) and at specific locations he would stop the group and play the different calls of each owl. He was careful not to play all three calls in the same location, the fear being that if a screech owl (the smallest of the three) decided to investigate our group that there would be the possibility of the great horned swooping in and eating the little guy. I giggled uncontrollably at the thought of this. Apparently no one else found it funny.

So we first tried to lure the screech owl in for a quick look, to no avail. Next came the bard owl, which apparently is the most commonly seen owl in the area. Again, nothing. We did, however, hear the eerie call of a lone coyote and then the irritated chatter of geese in the distance. I assume the coyote was directly related to the geese upset.

The prowl was yielding very little except cold fingers and cold toes and some irritated sighs from the three kids whose parents seemingly dragged them there from their warm homes. At the last stop on the unprotected windy plain of Hurlburt's Hill, after several replays of the bard owl call and several long, frosty pauses of human movement, we heard it — the low, mysterious call of the great horned owl.

Twice he called out and twice we answered him. And that was it. Somewhere in the pine grove surrounding the Ashley House, the great silent bird must’ve felt bad for us and decided to give us some hope.

Or he was laughing at how ridiculous it was that we thought we could “lure” him in with a tape recorder, all reeking of turkey and humanness.

It's going to be an old-fashioned Christmas once again this year. By "old-fashioned," I mean very low tech, no $300 PSPs or DSIs or XBoxs under the tree this year. It'd be nice to surprise the kids with an iPhone each, but they'd be even more surprised by the lack of food on the table for the next several months after we wrapped up Christmas morning. So, back to the basics. And I know I'm not the only one doing this. Most of us have no choice but to continue to be frugal through a very indulgent season.

So, with that in mind, I went on a hunt for little things; special things that capture the imagination and don’t cost an arm and a leg. Turns out, just like back in the day of my childhood some 20 years ago, the classics still reign supreme and now they’re even cooler!

And, it turns out, I only had to make one stop to find some cool, affordable toys: The Gifted Child on Railroad Street in Great Barrington (they also have a store on Church Street in Lenox).

They have virtually everything for everyone at every price range. I perused the place for at least an hour and a half and I know that I still didn't cover all the ground I could have. But I did find some amazing toys for every child (even the child at heart).

Magformers are apparently very popular, and I can see why. They are brightly-colored plastic shapes with rotating magnets inside so that each piece connects to another at any given angle, and even in midair! You can shape the connected pieces into three-dimensional structures (houses, cars, rockets, you name it) and just as easily disassemble your creation and start over. And, of course, Magformer sets are interchangeable so there is the potential to build an impressive collection over time. A 30-piece set run about $35 (which, by the way, is less than a single game cartridge for a Nintendo DSI).
 

In my little family of three, we are word wits. Everything is about finding the right word or expression. Remember "Scrabble?" Well, now there is the word-building anagram phenomenon of Bananagrams. Anyone can play, it's a combination of a crossword puzzle and Scrabble and all 144 letter tiles fit neatly into a little "banana" pouch. The damage, about $15. And I am confident that when I'm not playing the game with the kids that they will have a free-for-all with the tiles (which may include some inappropriate words, but at least they will be spelled correctly with enough practice).

And if you really want to get old school with words, pick up a couple of "Mad Libs" pads and use them as stocking stuffers. At $4 a pad, they provide endless (and somewhat disturbing) laughter and they now come with themes such as Star Trek, "Harry Potter" and "Lord of the Rings."

If words are too exhausting (or the holidays for that matter) there is always the Zoobie. While

I'm not a big stuffed animal fan, mostly because of their complete lack of function, but the Zoobie isn’t just a stuffed animal. It unfolds from a furry friend (could be a panda, a frog, a wolf, you name it, there’s a Zoobie for it) into a fairly sizable comfy pillow.

And if you unzip the bottom of the Zoobie, out comes a soft fleece blanket that could warm even a holiday-exhausted parent (and they do make Jumbo Zoobies; the blanket is 34 by 53 inches). The damage on this one is $35. Not bad considering you get three things and each is FUNCTIONAL.

So, when you're shopping for your kids this year, don't hurt yourself. Keep in mind that this is supposed to be a FUN time of year where meaning trumps quantity. If you are not having fun and you are stressing about money (more so than usual) then it's time to get back to the basics. A chess set, a an aerodynamic Frisbee, a book about making slime, a papier-mache volcano kit; these are all great gifts under $20 that are guaranteed to be exciting and even entertaining, no plug in necessary.

And remember, shop local. All you need and want is at your fingertips, including your holiday feast.

Something new has hit the real estate market and I'm not sure whether to be excited or alarmed. The austere 1860 (although the original house may have been built in the 1700s) farmhouse that is home to the Nature Conservancy and the Sheffield Land Trust is being sold through Berkshire Property Agents for $525,000. The three-bedroom, 4,600 square foot house is also attached to nearly 27 acres of protected land on Legeyt Road, prime farm country, and on this November morning the land and the lifestock (mostly dairy cows) was shrouded in mist.

The house itself has three bedrooms and there are also several offices located downstairs, as the whole place was renovated in 2006. The house will remain home to the Nature Conservancy and the Sheffield Land Trust until it is sold, although I couldn’t get a real person on the phone to see where, if anywhere, both organizations will move to once the farmhouse is sold.

I wish I could buy it. I've been thinking about what I'd do with a property like that and farming is definitely on the list (beef, lamb, maybe some horses), gardens and, of course, a swinging bench on the front porch ‘cause I’m that kind of girl.

 It's nice to dream. 
 

GREAT BARRINGTON, Mass. –  I have a clothing “situation.” It’s not what you’re thinking, I’m not a compulsive spender, I don’t shop online because I am a locavore (yes, I said it), and I don’t have a closet that is bulging with clothing. My situation is that I love clothing and I never have enough cash to buy the clothes I covet. And I do mean covet. On days when I’m feeling uninspired a quick trip to the Chanel website gets me hopping (and wishing I owned at least a vintage jacket).

I think my situation has resolved itself, thanks to the Boho Exchange.

The shop is on Main Street, upstairs from Yellow House Books (another one of my “situations” for another blog). Ascending the stairs, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the many upstairs “apartment” stores in Manhattan which carry the vintage clothing gems of the city.

The store is simple, even sparse. White walls showcase seasonal outfits (gray is the new black, by the way) and the racks are constructed of piping, giving the place an industrial feel. In an environment like this, one cannot help but focus on the clothes.

So many clothes. Within the first five minutes I’d already located a green velvet J.Crew blazer, a black Banana Republic military jacket and an entire rack of bright, sexy Barcelona sweaters. It was heavenly, and so are the prices. Most items were under $20. The secret; Boho Exchange specializes in used clothing. Buy, sell or trade is the name of the game according to co-owner January Sarno (in cahoots with Kelley Keefner). People who come in hoping to sell clothes are offered a percentage of what Boho can get on the floor for it. The rest is made up in trade; no consignment.

“We’re trying to cater more to local customers,” Sarno told me. “We’d like to have Chanel suits, but who around here can afford them?”

But we can dream. Who needs a Chanel suit when you can throw together some vintage caramel cords with a chunky black Ann Taylor sweater and call it a day?

Needless to say, I did not leave the place empty-handed. One tiny black cowl neck and a fabulous (even gutsy) pink Zebra print Guess Collection skirt later, I am out the door with a new outfit and a new favorite store. The damage was $22.

Boho Exchange is open 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day except Tuesdays and Sundays. They take only cash and checks, so leave your plastic in your purse. For more information call 413.528.4500 or visit them on Facebook. 
 

I’m finding myself visiting a lot of haunts from my checkered past as a South County teen nearly 20 years ago (there I said it, it’s out there). Many of these places have turned to ruins and relics right before my very eyes. The truck stop in West Stockbridge and its 2 a.m. omelets and coffee, the non-alphabetical mayhem of White Knight records, the stink of horse sweat and money at the Fairgrounds; all gone with the passing of time.

But not all of the monuments of my rebellion are gone. Last weekend I gathered up my courage and my camera for a walk down memory lane. Actually, it’s more of a dirt path. My destination was the Jug End Reservation in Egremont. The 1,100 acre property which is managed by the DCR and the DFW was once the Jug End Barn resort, a winter sports haven for young vacationers to the Berkshires which closed around 1980 (when I was three years old). While I have no recollection of the place in its heyday, my parents worked there in the early 1970s. At the time, they were just married and just kids (my mother was 17 and had graduated from high school in June of 1971 just a few weeks before her wedding). My father worked in the kitchen as a chef and my mother was a waitress.

 Apparently the place was a giant party.

“Did you stay after your shift or did you go directly home,” I once asked my mother.

“Directly home, of course, honey,” she said. My father just coughed and rolled his eyes.

I discovered Jug End (or jugend which is German for “youth”) before it became an official reservation. The place was a teenager’s dream; abandoned buildings surrounded by woods, wide open fields and sky, a turbulent creek, ramshackle gardens with stone walls and fountains. During the day we’d hop in my beat-up Toyota with a blanket, a thermos and a camera, and scour the place looking for odd photo opportunities. At night, we’d build a campfire in the abandoned garden and listen to the odd noises coming from the woods. Or grab our fishing poles and see what the creek had to offer.

Not much has changed. The buildings are all padlocked, the fields are better maintained, sure, but the place hasn’t lost its wildness. The same can be said for a lot of natural landscapes around here. Part of it is my own wishful thinking that time will stand still, just for a moment, and the other part is that, even now, this place is still a constant adventure.