Garden of Dreams

      

Gardening is one of our favorite outdoor sports. When we were growing up everyone we knew had a garden, large or small for fresh vegetables in the summer. They were called Victory gardens during WWII and their purpose was both to feed the immediate family and to aid the war effort by diverting commercially grown food stuffs to feed our troops overseas.
    Corn, beans, onions, tomatoes, cabbage, and potatoes were the major family garden crops. Vegetables that could either be canned or stored for winter consumption. Today it's hard to imagine a time when one couldn't go to the supermarket or produce market to purchase selections from countless rows of perishables regardless of the time of year.
   At that time flowers with the exception of marigolds, which deterred bugs were an extravagant personal indulgence except for a few daylilies, peonies, and roses left over from days before the war that became treasured spots of color around the house.
   The photo above is one of those flowers. People have seen the wild orange daylily growing in terrible soil, it is one of our most durable native wild flowers. As their name implies each bloom is only for one day.  My mother grew the one pictured above, which is not a single petal bloom, but a quadruple with four sets of petals in the same bloom. Her start was given to her by a relative when my parents bought their home. It is a 'sport', an accident of nature from the common wild daylily, that reproduces profusely and has traveled many miles among family and friends.
   Now for many, a couple of tomato plants still retain a place in our tiny gardens that are devoted to flowers to have something blooming all summer. The urge to garden is still with us, but space and time are limited so we indulge in beauty. Catalogs tempt us right after the first of year as we dream, turn down pages, and envision all of those marvelous plants blooming in our garden.
   Spring brings hundreds of offerings to the gardening centers and we walk for miles admiring the lovely flowers.  These have been forced and we're careful to purchase only those that have limited bloom because we want the flowering to be in our garden not in the greenhouse. Instant color is soon gone.
   This past winter was unusual, we lost plants we've had for years, but had Dusty Miller, which is an annual survive. Only a few of our azaleas and rhododendrons bloomed, but the bushes have sent out strong spurts of new growth so we can look forward to next year.
   We haven't noticed any change in the weed production. They continue to grow faster than we can remove them so they don't bloom to produce more seed to lie in wait for years to plague the gardener.
   We're two people, our days of cooking for a crowd are long gone as is our time of a large truck garden. Old habits die hard, but when we shop the produce stalls we try to be careful to buy small quantities so it can be used before it spoils. Sometimes this is difficult as a package of brussel spouts goes a long way, thank heavens they keep better than most fresh vegetables.
   I've often wondered what happens to all the left over truck that isn't sold when it passes the 'to be sold by date.' It's no secret that everyday enough food to feed a small size city is thrown away in the United States. It isn't even ground up to make compost to replenish the soil of organic farms or used to feed the chickens or slop the hogs as was the practice of our parents and thrifty farmers who collect town over production.
Nash Black, author of Forged Blade. Coming soon.

    

Fishing From the Bank

 March is the month in Kentucky you must have a new fishing license tucked in your wallet or else on your person to legally cast a line in the water. High hopes ride when the fever strikes to go fishin'. We dream all winter of catching that really big one. The one you have your picture taken with holding it high. The one you show off to all your friends and strangers too, if they'll listen. The one that will make the record book, where others will grind their teeth in envy of your skill, luck, and ability to tell a good yarn.
   People have been writing about the joys of fishing since the 1600s, when the early Bible for fishermen, The Complete Angler by Izaak Walton was written in 1653. This classic is available on Amazon in book form or as an e-book on Kindle. Its wisdom and lore has never gone out of style in nearly 400 years.
   Since Izaak's time thousands of books, entire monthly magazines, bodies of folklore saying have multiplied to tempt and entice fishermen to try their theory, style, products, or methods of catching fish.
   I'm not going to get into gender related issues and will continue through out this article to refer to the persons who cast their line upon the waters as fishermen. There have been and are many ladies who know the ways of fish. I take my hat off to them.
   Sad to say my wife isn't one of them. I have her permission to continue to use the term fisherman since she can read a book and ignore the sinking bober on her on her line. I can say with pride that I taught her to bait her own hook and remove little sunfish that get attracted to her offerings. She draws the line at cleaning, filleting, and cooking fish. Her favorite way to eat fish is on a sandwich from Frisch's and sees this as the proper way to consume a time honored menu item.
   We have a boat and enjoy fishing from it during the week when many weekenders are not out churning the lake waters and disturbing the fish. I'll admit fishing from a boat does not hold for me the pleasure of sitting or standing on a bank with the wind in my face casting a line.
   There's method in my madness as I consider myself a scientific fisherman. When the wind is coming toward you all kinds of insects fall in the water and fish rise to feed on this new source of food, I have every hope they'll mistake my lure for a free meal.
  If you find me on the Internet, read my contribution to the lore of fishing and know any old saying about fishing. Slip me a note and I'll collect them for next year. If you put your handle to the note I'll give you credit for expanding my knowledge of fishing quips.
   Here's an example of what I mean:
Before a rain the fishes rise and nimbly catch incautious flies.
  People complain about aching corns, old scars that throb, and other affictions before a rain. My wife gets headaches across the bridge of her nose when a storm is approaching and our dogs head for spots as close to us as they can get. Weather people tell us these odd pains and weird behaviors are triggered by falling barometric pressure. Fish respond to the same weather conditions with greater activity thus eating more to provide fuel for the increased movement.
   Grab a rod and head for your favorite spot when the signs and the weather person call for rain. It's a profitable time to catch a fish though any time is a good time to 'go fishing'.'

Up Town Saturday

 

Ice Cream Shop, Jamestown, KY, original Post Office

After the chores are finished the most important day of the week is Saturday, be it country or town. Breakfast is a hurried affair as each person in a household has special plans for the day. It is a day of socializing with family and friends.
  When people had to travel long distances by horse and wagon some families kept a tiny one-room house in town for sleeping over. In Texas, where some of these cottages still exist they have been restored as small homes for one or two persons. Others slept in & under their wagons or bunked in with family members who lived in town.
   The advent of automobiles didn't change the custom of going to town on Saturday for supplies, business affairs, recreation, and visiting. Even today though the meeting places have changed from Main Streets and school or church buildings people flock to large indoor malls with vast parking lots especially when cooler weather arrives. Saturday is the true vacation day of the week for the communities.
   Going to town meant visiting with friends while one used a laundromat to the the entire family wash at one time in a few hours instead of stringing it out over an entire day one load at a time. Even thought a family had a washer and dryer at home the men of the family never understood the desire of their women folk to use those big machines in town.
   Stocking up on a week or month's supplies was important for there were few country groceries near their homes where one could obtain all the goods necessary to sustain the family. The women generally shopped in chain groceries devoted to food. For clothes, sewing materials, and shoes they frequented a dry goods store. Children were delighted to view the bones of their feet in an x-ray machine, it didn't matter that there was a warning sign indicating harm from too frequent usage.
   Men left their corn to be ground for feed at a mill or picked up sacks at the feed store, and tended to congregate in the courthouse, hardware store, or pool room. A haberdashery provided clothes for men and boys. Drug stores had a fountain for ice cream delights and sodas, sandwiches, magazines & newspapers, cosmetics, and coffee besides medicines.
   The star of the town was the movie theater.

Art Deco Star Theater, Russell Springs, KY

Saturday was double-feature day of westerns, cartoons, and news reels. If children under twelve could manage to get to the show before one o'clock the cost was a dime, with fifteen cents left from a treasured quarter for treats. No one complained if you sat through the showing twice except your parents if you were late for supper.
   One of the most unique small town movie houses was in Dixon, KY long before drive-in theaters. Each spring a man would paint the outside wall of his service station a fresh white. During the spring, summer, and fall on good weather Saturday nights he would use the wall as a movie screen. Patrons would bring their own treats, chairs, and cushions to watch a motion picture show.
   When friends from my home town get together to travel memory lane this story always comes up. The stores stayed open until eight o'clock. For a short period of time the only television in town sat in the window of the furniture store. It had a screen about eight inches square. On Saturday night people would gather on the sidewalk outside and watch a show on this strange new luxury. I don't remember what it cost, if I ever knew, but everyone was sure it was beyond their price range. After the program people would go next door to the drug store for a soda or a hand-dipped ice cream cone before going home.
   I've talked about the delights of going to town on Saturday, but there is a hidden picture behind the story. Each community had the stores I've mentioned and they provided jobs, substance for the owner, and taxes to the government. Those shops and businesses made the town. When they began to die and disappear from the scene a way of life for many Americans also vanished. Some communities are making an effort to bring back these institutions to attract tourists, but I expect it's mostly for their own benefit.

These Honored Dead

The last Monday in May is a time of remembrance to honor those who died in military service to the United States of America.
   Through out our country American flags are placed on military graves as a reminder to all of their final devotion. The main flag in public places is rapidly raised to the top of the pole and ten dipped to half staff position for the remainder of the day as a salute to 'these honored dead.'
   In 2000 the Remembrance Law designated 3 P.M. in all time zones to observe a minute of silence in tribute to the fallen heroes.
   The festivities of the three day Memorial Day weekend tend to overshadow the serious side of the national holiday. Amid all the fun and games it is first and foremost a day to remember and honor those who gave their lives that we can live in the security of freedom. At 3 P.M. join the nation in a moment of silent prayer to say, "Thank you for your sacrifice."  

Big Sneeze

    

Spring is wonderful. It makes our hearts bounce as we watch flowers blooming, calves bounding in fields, and trees greening with new leaves after winter's stark limbs.
   That's the good side, then there is the bad side, each of those blooms produce pollen. Bees thrive on the bounty. Humans . . . well that's another story.
   The Ohio River Valley is known nation wide as Sinus Gulch. Disparaging remarks are made about 'snotty-nosed brats' when children sniffle and snuff. I've read few novels set in the Appalachian area that somewhere the author doesn't have a character wipe their nose on their sleeve, especially when they want to create a bad impression and have never lived in our region.
   There are few if any real solutions to the effects of spring pollen, it's in every breath we take and has nothing to do with second-hand smoke or the burning of fossil fuels. Air pollution is at its height in the spring, its nature's way of producing new growth and insuring the survival of a species.
   The tiny grains of pollen are so small they seep through screens and filters. Together in mass they create great pools of yellow scum on the lake. Hard rains will cleanse the air for a few hours, but it's short lived as the wind brings waves of new pollen from as far away as 300-400 miles. Under high powered microscopes pollen from individual sources can be identified, which keeps the air quality experts busy but doesn't do much for suffers.
   You clean your porch furniture or wash your car then go out the next morning and they are covered with greenish yellow detritus that looks as if you've driven through a prairie dust storm.
   Spring air borne allergens have a life of about six weeks and those who are afflicted with allergies are miserable. Their eyes are red, they sting and burn, their nose runs, they cough, and their sinuses ache. All the symptoms of a head cold, sinus infection, or flu.
   Pharmacies are kept busy restocking shelves of over-the-counter remedies that offer vague promises of relief. Media reaps heavy profits from advertisers of these products, many of which have worse side-effects than the original problem. Doctors prescribe stronger medicines in hopes of easing the symptoms.
   Nash has suffered from allergies to air borne pollen for 40 years. He gives himself shots of a serum provided by a doctor once a week every two weeks, or every day according to the results of his tests and directions provided by his physician.
   Recently we got a notice from our health care provider that they may not cover the prescription if it is administered outside the prescribing physician's office. 
   Would anyone like to calculate the added costs of driving 190 miles round trip to comply with this obscene regulation for a problem nature creates? 
   Maybe the regulator have some leftover from WWI gas masks they want to unload on an entire population. Maybe they want to live in a world without trees, grasses, flowers, and weeds, we don't.
  The moment we can get outside when the worst of winter passes we polish the table with Windex each day. Then endure the pollen nature provides for plants to reproduce and survive and  insects to consume and store for food.

Lay Down the Beat

1920s - Grandfathers

Music defines Kentucky across all lines of area, race, age, politics, creeds, and anything else that divides a people. Be it Bluegrass, Rock, Rap, County, Swing, Jazz, Blues, Gospel, Symphonic, Choral, or any other style somewhere in the state you'll find someone playing, singing, jamming, or performing.
  One of the most interesting people I ever met was one of the 85 original founders of the Libertarian political party. His home was in Louisville, KY, he was elderly, his grandparents were slaves, during the concert season he held a chair in the Louisville Symphony, and in the summer he jammed in the New Orleans Jazz Hall with his friends. Music and freedom were his life. His talent broke barriers long before courts and laws opened doors.
  Churches, garages, barrooms, and porches have produced a long line of musicians who have achieved fame and fortune in the music industry as performers, writers, and promoters. Getting together to pick-a-tune occurs wherever people gather. Some make it big while others with equal talent fall by the wayside, but the participants never lose the love of music that drew them together.
   School dances, lunch hour jams, bands, orchestras, sock hops gave and still give many a young performer a venue to exercise their talents and gain necessary stage presence. I once heard a

1950s - Grandsons

young man who'd returned from a world wide tour as a polished professional exclaim in panic, "God, what'll I do. My whole family is out there." He was so scared he didn't realized the mike was open. The audience enjoyed a good laugh.
  Nash Black uses this old tradition in their mysteries every time the Young Brothers get together to advance the story line. Each session has a purpose to the story, the songs are carefully selected from the period of the action. They use only the titles of the selections to invoke a memory in the reader. If the reader isn't familiar with the music little is lost in the reading.
 

2015 - great-great grandsons

 Late spring and summer is the time for dozens of music festivals through out Kentucky - each is dedicated to a favorite style or a good mix. Most are outdoors where acoustics are not a problem. This isn't true in small theaters - especially in the Star Theater in Russell Springs, KY which recently inaugurated a new program "Sounds of the Star" to showcase local talent. We want to see and hear this program grow, but I'm going to hand out some unsolicited advice.
   Be kind to your audience. When a singer is singing, lower the volume on backup, so the words to the song can be distinguished. That doesn't mean the boys & girls in the band should take a backseat. Each should be given a chance to strut their stuff for a solo, but never try to out play each other so all is lost in a jumble of catatonic blare.

Note: The colored photo was supplied by Stuart Simpson of Somerset Community College, Somerset, KY. It fit so well with this post. Thanks for letting me use it. 
  

Potting Bench

   

Our potting bench ready for a new season.

Do your fingers itch for being covered with dirt like a kid playing in a sandbox?
   It's potting and re-potting time. If you have space a vegetable garden is a must or at least a few pots of tomatoes for a sunny deck. I'm not sure if it's the months of anticipation or taste of real home grown tomatoes that makes us throw health considerations to the four winds for a squishy white bread sandwich slathered with mayo and a thick slice of tomato. On mine so I can include the daily food groups I add iceberg lettuce and hand slice garlic baloney, while Nash tops his off with a large round of white onion. Good summer eating and well worth the wait.
   That is food for the future, now is the time to ready your space for the bounty to come. Plants are arriving at various outlets and each forced specimen tempts us to fill our shopping carts with more than we can efficiently handle. Suppliers have carefully watered their offerings with various ready-grow products to push the season. Our advice is to take care and choose those whose blooms show a tad of color, but have unformed buds. Let them bud and flower in your garden, the wait is worth it for sturdier plants next summer.
   The late Fred Wiche's Gardening Almanac has long had a place on my shelf of almanacs. He spent years on TV and radio answering thousands of questions from Kentucky gardeners. He knew our unique growing conditions and problems.  The almanac was his first book. If you're a gardener and can find a copy, it's a keeper.
   Ozzie Ovendecker is our gardening expert on the Ono Chronicle, he comments: "Carry home plants from the nursery and watch the chickweed grow." We haven't found a good solution for the problem other than pulling them out by hand and burning them. Some people bake their store bought potting soil at 250 degrees over night.
   Once we get our treasures home, we let them harden off in light shade for several days. Pruning any flowers, dead or wilted leaves, trimming excess roots, and keeping the little pots damp.
   Where you stabilize your plants takes planning and care. You want a place that is easy to clean, airy, and dry with sufficient tools for transplanting them to their future home. We use our backporch with a three tiered stand for storage of extra pots, watering cans, used kitty litter bucket with a tight seal for potting soils, mosquito repellent, a good whisk broom, and plenty of flat working space. Parts of the stand began life as a media sound system rack in the 1960s. Most of our tools came from relatives when we cleaned out estates or as gifts from friends. Recycling works.
   A note on a spring problem, at a meeting the other day folks were complaining about trash thrown out on a ramp to the lake and wanted the county to post no litter signs. Nash is still laughing at the looks on their faces when my patience wore thin and I said, "Pick it Up." Now you tell me what is the difference between spending time at the gym touching your toes and bending over for a little spring trash pick up.

    

March Madness-Big Six to the Rescue

Sheriff Big Six Henderson

After defeating Morehead State in NCAA play in a basketball game,  euphoric Western Kentucky students singing "Stand Up and Cheer" swept out of UK's Memorial Coliseum in Lexington to board nine chartered buses destined for Bowling Green. They were completely oblivious to the evening's madness that loomed ahead.
   Following a rest stop in the Kentucky Turnpike service area, the buses continued their journey through some very light snow flakes that soon became a major snow event. With the blurred lights of Elizabethtown, KY fading in the distance, everyone began to sense that the heavy snowfall portended a possible highway nightmare.
   Just north of the small town of Bonnieville, the four buses in the lead came to a halt. In the words of Phil Stamp, the Bengals former radio announcer, "that was all the far they could go." Drifting snow had literally brought the buses and all the traffic around them to a frozen standstill. There were no approaching headlights in the northbound lanes while the snow covered southbound lanes had stranded four bus loads of two hundred student in the midst of fields covered with two feet of snow.
   March Madness had arrived early! No one had a computer or cell phone an unimaginable situation in today's world.
   Nothing moved until the grey light of dawn revealed the impossible notion of traveling any further. One of the men on the first bus of fifty students was Big Six Henderson, the renowned Sheriff of Warren County. After consulting with the bus drivers, Big Six decided to lead the two students into the sleepy town of Bonnieville. Wearing his famous ten gallon hat and overcoat, he lead the parade of willing followers who were casually dressed for early spring. Some of the girls were still wearing high heel shoes for the unexpected trek.
   When the beleaguered group reached town, they were greeted by residents who had heard of their plight on a Louisville radio station. Immediately, they guided the students into a local church where a meal was served and bathrooms were more than a welcome sight.
   Later in the day, everyone received news that officials from the L&N Railroad had arranged for its southbound train, the Pan American, to stop in Bonnieville, to transport the students to Bowling Green. When hearing the news, sighs of relief spread among most student while others wondered if classes would be cancelled the next day.
   After expressing their appreciation to those who sheltered them, the students gathered behind Big Six once again and slogged to the small village depot. As the time for the train's arrival drew near, anticipation of a ride home surged. Alas, when the engine's headlight broke through the mist, everyone knew the speeding train was not going to stop. As the train thundered past it signaled that the night's adventure had come to an end and a frozen ordeal had begun.
   Once officials discovered that the Pan American had boarded another two hundred WK students in Upton, a town six miles north of Bonnieville, the L&N sent a special train dubbed the "Snowball Express" to rescue those who were left standing by the station in Bonnieville. Late that night after the train arrived in Bowling Green, the students were transferred by the National Guard to Western's campus where the "Hilltoppers" 1960 March Madness had only begun.   Noel Harrison Taylor grew up in Corbin, KY and was the lone male student on the first bus with Sheriff Big Six Henderson. He is a retired administrator, Princeton City School District, Cincinnati, OH, and Adjunct Professor of Education, Xavier University, and author of A History of Corbin. 

Daylight Saving Time

Spring Forward

   Who is saving time when we move the hands of our clocks forward one hour each spring?
   On March 1st we have about 11 hours and 21 minutes that the position of the sun allocates to daylight. Then by March 31st this span has increased to 12 hours and 35 minutes, which gives us an increase of 1 hour and 14 minutes during the month. The amount of daylight we have is measured by the position of the sun and by moving the clocks forward one hour near the middle of the month we gain 2 hours and 17 minutes of evening daylight by the end of the month, but we will be back to getting up in the dark for a few more weeks.
  Farmers hate the idea for good reason as dew is evaporated by the sun and farm animals don't recognize clocks, but then neither does my body clock. It takes almost six weeks to adjust to the change. A suggestion has been proposed that one can adapt internal sleep time by going to bed 15 minutes earlier for four nights prior to the time change to alleviate this problem.
   The idea of more usable summer evening time has been around for a long time. Benjamin Franklin speculated on it in 1794. The first person to do a major campaign for daylight saving time was an Englishman, William Willet, who wrote in The Waste of Daylight,

   "Everyone appreciates the long summer evenings. Everyone laments their shortage as Autumn approaches; and everyone has given utterance to regret that the clear bright light of early morning during Spring and Summer is so seldom used."

   The idea was codified into law in England in 1916 and the United States adopted it on March 31, 1918, just short of a year after we entered World War I. Today it is observed in some fashion around the world.
   Daylight Saving Time is with us to stay. It has been herald by conservationists and utility companies as a great savings in electrical energy, but studies have illustrated that these benefits are inconclusive because what is saved in the evenings is used in the morning.
   All we can do is grumble a bit, wonder if we'll ever find that lost hour, appreciate a second chance to see the sun rise, and remember to "spring forward" our clocks before we go to bed on March 12th.
 

Winter Squash

   Before the day of electricity and refrigeration the storage of foods for winter consumption was a chancy business. Most homes, either town or country had a root cellar where it was dark and cool with an over all constant temperature above freezing. If one was lucky enough to have access to a natural cave these were used for winter food storage. During bitter weather none of these gave the easy access of opening the refrigerator or freezer door. Often the door to the basement or root cellar was placed close to the door opening into the kitchen.
   Fall's bounty stored in a root cellar gets sparse when the early days of March roll around. Foods like potatoes, onions, and apples take on a wither crinkly appearance. Carrots, turnips, and cabbages have been dug from their straw pits.
   Winter squashes were a staple in root cellar preservation, their hard leathery skins protected the meat from an early demise. The late fall winter squashes we find today in the grocery have thick skins, but they are no where near as tough as earlier varieties before the seed companies began work to produce easier products to use.
  A lesser know and tougher member of the squash family is the cushaw. Its skin is hard and I mean hard, which contributes to its lasting longer than the others. The seeds for this vegetable have been passed down through families and friends. It is a mottled green with a crooked neck that grows quite large. The first time I encountered this particular squash I had to take it out in the backyard and use an ax to cut the tough shell. Several years ago, a friend gave me one from her garden and it lasted on our glassed in porch til early March.
   The very firm flesh can be used much like potatoes, doctored like pumpkin for pies, pureed and make into a fine spread for hot biscuits or toast the same consistency of fine apple butter.
   Cushaw makes a delicious casserole using cooked cubed cushaw, Italian sausage (precooked), cream of celery soup (undiluted), chopped onions & peppers, shredded mix-Italian cheese and Italian herbs & spices. Sorry readers, I seldom measure ingredients or as a friend remarked, years ago, to my dinner guests, "Eat hardy boys, she'll never duplicate the recipe."   

Leap Year

   

February has 29 days this year, which means that spring is one day further away. The moon doesn't rotate to our calendar's specifications, it takes about four minutes longer than 24 hours so every four years an extra day is inserted in the calendar to bring man made and nature created into balance for at least four minutes.
   Not bad, Leap Years also adds an extra Sunday to the calendar so we have 53 Sundays instead of 52 to sit around and codger up vitally important things to write about that will add enlightment to the world and maybe a chuckle or two. Enjoy the extra day of rest thanks to a slow moon that can't keep up with us.
   Years that can be divided evenly by four are leap years except turn of the century years, which must be divided evenly by 400, hence 2000 was a leap year, but 2100 will not be. It's a shock to realize that a few who are born this year may be around to celebrate the turn of the next century.
   Do you remember Sadie Hawkin's events from your high school days? Sadie was a character from the Dogpatch cartoon strip drawn by the late Al Capp. She couldn't get a man to ask her out so she'd ask them. Let me tell you about her multiple greats-grandmother. This is the way the Irish tell it.
   "St. Bridget complained to St. Patrick that women could not propose marriage, so he permitted them to have this privilege on one day in one year out of every four. When St. Bridget proposed to him, however, he turned her down and gave her a silk gown as a consolation present. Until the 19th century in Britian, a man was obliged to give a silk gown to any lady whose marriage proposal he refused in Leap Year."
   From a woman's point-of-view, I'd say the custom would be an excellent way to acquire a decent wardrobe. Nash put in that the handsome, popular guys had better have deep pockets to afford many refusals.
   That's it you all, when you run out of scientific information to say about Leap Year the dubious history will fill the space.
   Thanks to Kay & Marshall Lee, The Illuminated Book of Days, illustrated by Kate Greenway, c. 1979, p. 213 for the quote as to where a girl asking the guy on Leap Year originated.

Color in the Kitchen

 
    The country was staggering it's way out of the Great Depression in the late 1930s. There is no other way to describe the recovery, it was uneven and spotty depending on where you lived and your circumstances. Our parents, grandparents and in many cases great-grandparents lived through rough times.
   Frugal rural and small town housewives managed to keep food on the table from their gardens, orchards, fields, livestock, and woodlands, but it was a constant struggle against uncompromising  nature with floods, droughts, and tornadoes to add to the economic collapse of the period.
   The Homer Laughlin Company of Newel, West Virginia in response to a growing trend from the buying public for color in their lives introduced a new line of kitchen and tableware. For the first time a talc body with their four carefully selected brilliant colors (red, blue, green, and yellow) were encased in a semi-glaze to the delight of American housewives.
   In January of 1936 Fiesta was born. It wasn't until late in 1936 that a rich ivory was added to the line. The original assortment of mix and match pieces included 54 items.
   Color had entered the kitchen were women spent most of their lives. Maybe just one treasured platter, but it was a spot of color especially when winter skies were dull and grey. Fiesta remains today - 80 years later a highly cherished collectible that is an overture to a lifestyle long gone. It is not safe for use in the microwave, but the dishwasher is kind to Fiesta, while the companion Kitchen Kraft line does work in the oven.
   Rapidly, on the heels of the success of Fiesta, HLC introduced  their Harlequin line with more colors. It was lighter in weight and less expensive, but retained Art Deco shapes in the cups, teapot, and cream soup bowls. It was sold through the F.W. Woolworth Co. Stores we refereed to as "dime stores." Harlequin remained in production through the early 1970s.
   Another colored line was Riviera that was produced in four colors. Red and light green using Fiesta colors and blue and yellow from the Harlequin line. Marketed in 1938 and sold only by the Murphy Co. If you take the ivory from an earlier Century line it is possible to collected Riviera in five colors. Production of this line ceased in 1950 and is harder for the collector to find.
  The photo shows some of my Riviera collection with a few pieces of the Hacienda decal that was added to Century shapes. The cream and green milk jug is over 100 years old, HLC made in 1912 and marked on the bottom.
   My sister was the Fiesta collector and at her death her extensive collection made a special trip to Texas to the home of a nephew who'd asked for the set when he first started housekeeping. Riviera is my collectible, but the cabinets do contain items of Fiesta and Harlequin in the proper colors to add sparkle to a dreary winter kitchen.
   It doesn't matter how professionally employed or community busy a woman is today she still finds herself spending time in the kitchen and loves a bit of color to brighten her day.
   Holiday splendor is a Fiesta punch set using Medium Green (1950 color) mugs with a 14 inch platter and a red footed salad bowl. It took over 35 years to assemble this set.
 

Quilting

   Quilting; the layering of several fabrics together and then stitching them together with patterns or blocks is an ancient art. Quilted vests and shoulder pads were worn by knights under their amour as a kind of "shock absorber." They protected the wearer from chaffing and also served as light weight body protection under chain mail. The Chinese have long used quilted garments to provide body warmth where heating is limited.
   Prior to the Civil War, quilts were used as signals on the Underground Railroad to alert runaway slaves as to the safety of a stop or the need to seek refuge in another location. The various patterns were codes, one such is the pattern known as the Arkansas Traveler.
  Quilting is a winter time activity, reserved for when outdoor activities are limited. Ours was a frugal nation whose citizens saved scraps and worn out garments to be remade into bed coverings.
   Fabrics for clothing was rare and precious. The process of producing cloth was tedious, labor and time consuming, which during the period of settlement and development was mostly done by hand in the home by the women and children. A new suit of clothes or a dress came after much work was expended to produce the required fabric, hence the custom of saving any available leftovers for future use.
   Quilting frames were often kept near the ceiling and lowered by pulleys when relatives and friends gather for a quilting session. Many hands made the work go faster, but it was also a time of fellowship and gossip as they took thousands of tiny stitches to piece and produce a new quilt.
  Today when we wander through a museum or a quilt show we marvel at the fine handwork and wonder why the women didn't go half-blind with their precise stitching when working in dimly lit rooms.
   We see the special quilts that were made for show or bedspreads, The everyday ones did not survive as the old fabrics wore away through long usage. During WWII I helped my mother take a threadbare Lone Star and cover it with a new bolt fabric. We then pulled heavy threads through the layers and tied them to make a new quilt with the old one serving as batting.
   The pride and joy of my quilt collection is one I made myself. The Grandmother's Flower Garden is made from various wool craps when short skirts first made the fashion scene and we cut off about eight inches of our dowdy winter skirts.
  I treasure the Fans that my Grandmother Black made for me, which has one of the fans upside down illustrating another quilting tradition. There is always a purposeful mistake in a proper quilt, because only God is perfect.
   Many modern quilters carry on the ancient tradition. I remember one patron who came to the library to get a selection of audio books, which she listened to while she created her beautiful work.
   To me quilts were made to be used on beds or maybe you took a very old one out on a picnic. I'm not sure I've adjusted to seeing them used as wall hangings or tablecloths. But our ancestors created a world of fine art which has become the icon of the frontier and rural America with their many and varied patterns of patchwork quilts.
   Quilts are like good friends, they keep you warm and age with you.
   


  
  

Proverbs: It is Said

Somewhere in the 1960s there was a book published with a title near to How to Lie with Statistics. We proclaim that 23% of something is harmful. Are we actually lying or ignoring the 77% as if it doesn't exist to prove a point? I'm not sure if that was the correct title, but it brings to mind how we use old proverbs or adages as illustrations of our thoughts.
   At times the short sentences trip from our tongue without our even being aware of where they became a part of our vocabulary. We see them printed on plaques, on billboards, or used a filler in bulletins, magazines, and newspapers.
   Benjamin Franklin used proverbs in his Poor Richard's Almanac and they are what survives today to be printed over and over in multiple editions. The real fun is collecting proverbs that contradict each other.
   Nash is skilled at ferreting out the twists and is always on the lookout for more to add to the file though I'm a bit skeptical that he isn't stretching it a bit. We're throwing out a few for you to remember and enjoy. You've heard these most of your life, just as we have.

   Too many cooks spoil the broth. Many hands make light work.

   Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Out of sight, out of mind.

   The seed you sow, another reaps. As you sow, so shall you reap.

   Two birds of prey do not keep company. Birds of a feather flock together.

   Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Be sure you are right, then go ahead.

   A formal fool speaks naught but proverbs. A proverb is one man's wit and all men's wisdom.

   Success makes some crimes honorable. No wickedness has any ground of reason.

   Never do evil that good may come of it. The end justifies the means.

   Fortune helps the bold. Good fortune ever fights on the side of the prudent.

   He who would fine must seek. Everything comes to him who waits.

   By education most have been mislead. Education makes the man.

   Push on, keep moving. A rolling stone gathers no moss.

  When you consider proverbs, which we were taught is the collective wisdom of the ages, in this light is it any wonder we're often confused? Both are plausible until they are looked at side-by-side.
   Does anyone have others we can add to our dozen? We'd love to have them for our collection.

 

Magic of Christmas

   Christmas is magic. Things happen that can not be explained in any other fashion. This is a true story. I know because it happened to me.
   Sometime during the 1960s, I'm not sure what year. I took my two young nephews to Hillinmeyer's Nursery, outside of Lexington, Kentucky to visit their living nativity scene on Christmas Eve.
   The local landmark was staged in a working stable with farm animals in their pens and the scene was built in a back stall. The human participants were mannequins. As we knelt before the slated door so the boys could see I noticed that a spider was weaving a web between the points of the crown of the wiseman nearest to us. I point it out to them and started telling my version of the following story.

   GOLDEN COBWEBS

   Once in the long ago when people went out to the back lot and cut their own cedar tree a strange thing happened that is true magic.
   When you bring a tree in from the wild buried deep in its branches are all the insects and critters who use the tree for their home during the winter. Where the temperature is warm they begin to hatch, much like the praying mantas nest brought home and put in a jar in your room.
   The tree was placed in a bucket of water to keep it fresh and green during the season. Every member of the family had been busy making strings of popcorn and cranberries, gingerbread men, balls of bright colored yarn, crochet snowflakes were starched and ironed, tubes to hold the candles were fitted with ruffled coasters to catch drips. The candles would be lighted on Christmas Day after the family returned from church. Gifts were wrapped in gay papers that had been ironed and carefully saved from holidays past.
   When all the decorations had been attached to the tree and the gifts laid around the trunk on a clean white sheet everyone was banished from the room and the housewife began to clean. The cat and dogs who'd watched from the hearth of the great fireplace were sent to the kitchen. The mother cat was reluctant to leave because she had spotted the pink nose of a brown mouse peaking out through the knot hole in the baseboard.
   The lady of the house took her broom to every nook and corner, polished the furniture, then rested from her labors. The family was ready to celebrate the Savior's birthday when family and friends would be stopping by to share their joy.
   The one place she never thought to sweep clean was deep in the boughs of the tree. A nest began to swell and cracks appeared, tiny grey bodies tumbled out each searching for food and a dark place to hide, like the corners under the eaves in the attic or in the cellar. They staggered out to the ends of the branches.
   Horrified, they confronted a little brown mouse with bright dark eyes staring up at them.
  "Hide, hide, she'll beat you with her broom."
   "Who?"
   "The lady of the house. She doesn't want critters near when the baby comes, tomorrow is his birthday. Come down here and look. The gift tree is a sight to see."
   The spiders glided down on fine thin filaments from high in the tree to see why the mouse was so exited. It was hard for them to see until they'd scurried back against the wall.
   What a tree!
   It pointed to the heavens. At the very tip-top was a beautiful lady dressed in white with golden hair and she had wings. Wings like the birds that darkened the sky and ate little spiders. The spiders shook with fear. Where could they hide? Where would they go away from the danger of being devoured before they's had a chance to live? They were trapped in a closed room.
   "Don't be afraid," said the mouse. "Follow me and explore this wonderful tree while it is still dark. I will show you a place above my hole in the wall where it is safe.
   "Hurry. Don't waste my time. The child is almost here and I want a few nibbles of those tasty gingerbread men before I go."
   The spiders crept across the floor back to the tree where they were born, but it wasn't like the tree where their mother placed her nest. This was a brave new tree the likes of which they'd never seen.
   They climbed up the faint silver strands to begin creeping, creeping, and crawling along each branch. The bolder and braver ones took to swinging from branch to branch, delighting with all the exuberance of being alive. Few spiders had ever experienced the thrill of freedom away from fear of the swat of a broom or a heave from a gust of wind that would blow them from their home in the wild.
   "Hurry, follow me. Dawn is coming, we must hide." He gave a big belch and lumbered across the floor with his sides bulging.
   The spiders swiftly followed, dropping from loop to loop of the thin fine filaments. Leaving behind them the stark evidence of their explorations.
    The smallest grey spider turned back for one last look at the glorious tree. His cry of despair was heard by all and they hastened to look.
   Sharp rays of the rising sun struck the gift tree, but it wasn't even pretty. It was dull, bedraggled, and woebegone with branches drooping in shame covered with ugly cobwebs like something lost and forgotten.
   The little spiders shivered in fear and desperation. They never intended to spoil the tree, they only wanted to see what the mouse had proclaimed as so grand. They beseeched the heavens to save the tree for they had meant no harm to come to the child's birthday tree.
   Before their very eyes the beautiful lady began to glow and float from the tree on her pure white wings. She sailed toward them and they cowered against the wall.
   "Be not afraid. All creatures are important to me and have a treasure to give. I accept you gift with joy for this is a day to be shared through the ages."
   Each place she touched shimmered and glowed as the cobwebs turned to gold. She returned to her perch high in the tree and smiled down while the spiders curried to safety under the baseboard.

  As I finished telling the story and got up from the ground I looked up to face a large crowd. Everyone who'd come to visit the nativity were gathered around us watching the spider build its web and were listening to me tell the story.
   No one said a word, a path opened and we walked toward the entrance. There was an exhausted blatt from a pen inside the door. A ewe was giving birth to a black lamb.
   The bells were ringing midnight and it was snowing.

Mistletoe: Symbol of Peace

"Mistletoe and Ivy will be the death of me," sighed the old oak-tree.

   The use of mistletoe has faded in popularity as a yule time decoration, yet it may be the oldest of the holiday symbols. It held status of the sacred from the ancient Greeks, Norse, Druids, and Celtic peoples of Europe. The veneration of the plant moved from Europe to America.
   The custom of kissing under a sprig of mistletoe is the one we most remember; it was fun to catch someone unaware under a bunch hanging in a doorway. The kissing ball originated in England, where when someone was kissed a white berry was plucked for the stem until all the berries were gone. Then the bundle was burned to wait another year.
   A very disparaging truth is the word itself. It comes from the Anglo-Saxon as a compound word. "Mistel" means dung and "toe or tan" is a term for a twig or a branch. Putting the two words together they roughly translate as "poop on a stick." Remember they didn't have an old Sears catalogue in the garderobes, which served as indoor outhouses in the castles. So lost and hidden in time there may exist a grain of fact about an unheralded use for mistletoe. Somehow that fails to excite dreams of romance in our hearts.
   The under-the-mistletoe custom is much older than 17th Century England and goes back to the Scandinavian countries, whose Norse gods deemed mistletoe with powerful mystical qualities including protection. Armies would meet under an oak tree sporting the plant and lay down their arms in a truce. Hence it became associated with peace and goodwill. Later it was hung in doorways to tell visitors when they entered a dwelling or tavern there would be no fighting on the premises.
  A bundle of mistletoe hanging in the doorway of a home was protection against evil. Witches and ghosts were held at bay and not allowed to enter the home, much like the use of the herb, henbane.
   It is a rare oak tree where one will find mistletoe. I suspect because oaks contain tannin which acts as a poison to the roots of the interlooping parasitic plant. In Europe the apple tree is a frequent host tree, while in the United States you will find it growing on a number of different species. Here in Ono County the most abundant host trees are walnuts. There are numberous examples along the road from town to our home, some so lush with growth that against the winter sky they seem not to have lost their summer leaves.
   Birds eat the berries and excreet the seeds on branches where they roost. American mistletoe originally grew along the easter coast close to large bodies of water from New Jersey to Flordia. Gradually, the birds have distributed the seeds inland, again frequesntly growing in trees near an extensive body of water such as our inland man-made lakes.
   Romance, fertility, or peace, the use of mistletoe as a decoration for the holidays is a custom we should not let die as it connects us with our ancient past. 

Greeting Cards

We got our first Christmas cards this week, a sure sign that the holiday season is upon us and the festivities are right around the corner.
   Sending cards and greetings to family and friends has been a holiday tradition my entire life. It is a holiday tradition our parents shared as we grew up.
   I love getting the colorful cards in the mail as so many contain notes and letters from people who have been a part of our lives in many places. Even the letter carrier looks for the one from Dolly Kalerak, a real Eskimo, who lives in Alaska but winters in Hawaii. We save the cards from year to year and enjoy the letters a second time, trying to answer any questions that were posed last year.
   I also breathe a sigh of relief when none of ours come back marked "addressee unknown" or "decreased" by the post office. At our age, I know, it is to be expected, but still it blights the season.
   A long time ago the jottings of what's been happening were called "bread and butter" notes and were an important part of a Southern education. These past years I've gone back to writing the notes by hand hoping all the recipients will be able to read my handwriting, as over the years it has gotten rather frail.
   The custom of sending cards is very young in terms of holiday traditions, a bit over 100 years  old. The first cards were printed in London, England in 1843. Thirty-one years later (1874) Louis Prang began producing cards in America. These simple cards featured owls, birds, and animals and carried brief messages like, "It's a poor heart that never rejoices." Later the famous Currier & Ives company began issuing their classic scenes of New England winters with horses and sleighs.
  This card illustration is Barbara Appleby's take on one of the delightful owls in a snowstorm card from the Wirths Bros. & Owen company. We thank her for the rush production as she managed to get the essence of the card from my description.
   We invite you to join us by sending cards and notes to friends and family. A card in the mailbox is a signal to let the celebrations begin, just like a Christmas parade. They only come once a year.

Shine the Light

     "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens."
              Line 1, Chapter 3, Ecclesiastes, King James Version

   This is our favorite line from the Bible and it best describers this festive time of the year. We're old fashioned to the extent that we believe the holiday season begins on the first of December and ignore all the commercial hype until that day.
   The first things we notice are the lights. Candles in windows, a tree in a lobby, garlands strung from eaves, fairy lights in trees, and ropes with evergreens twisted around bannisters. Light is the essence of the season and time that provides the cornerstone of observance.
   It is the strong foundation that we think of during the holidays, which have existed in one form or another for centuries in the northern hemisphere. Winter begins for us on December 21st at 11:48 pm when the sun is at its lowest point in the sky.
   A time of a new beginning of the winter equinox when the sun rises, by slow degrees, higher in the heavens each day and the darkness recedes into the past.
   Countless people rejoiced over the eons of time with the reappearance of the sun. They built great monuments to mark the sun's passage of which the Stonehenge in England is only one of many scattered across the globe. The holiday season can be remembered as a Druid rebirth, the birthday of a Roman God, Hanukkah, Kwanza, or Christian Christmas, but the flowering motif of all the festivals is light and it emergence from the darkness on earth.
   Be grateful that we live in a country whose founders provided for all beliefs and observe the coming of light in your fashion. If you are greedy like us, try to work a bit from each belief with their different customs into your celebration or create your own. This is what the early church fathers did to make Christianity acceptable to the peoples of Europe as they spread their word of deliverance from what they considered paganism.
   Remember most of all to light a candle and keep it burning throughout the season.
  

Images are from Google

  

Aprons

"Don't take my picture until I untie my apron."
   That is a sentence I heard more than once from grandmothers, aunts and other relatives. Most women wore aprons when they cooked or worked in the yard, though it was never worn at the table. It was the one garment that was dawned fresh each morning and dropped in the laundry basket at night. Other clothing was often worn for several days especially if one had to pack heavy buckets of water any distance to be heated on the stove before washing could begin. To not change your apron was considered slovenly.
   The cleanliness of an apron is testified by the fact that its was used as the first bandaged when a slipped knife sliced a hand or a finger. Later it was carefully soaked in cold water to get the blood out before it could set and leave a stain.
   The first item a girl made when learning to sew was an apron. I still have one I made in 4-H, it is yellow with a red print and had a matching pot holder that was lost over the years.
   Aprons were used to protect clothing from spills and stains, but they had many other uses. This utilitarian item of apparel dried many a tear and dabbed a skinned knee before an antiseptic was applied to prevent infection.
   Aprons served as a pan or basket for a few beans gathered from an early morning garden or a visit to the hen house. They were useful for drying your hands when a towel wasn't handy. They served as a pot holder or oven mitt to prevent burns.
   A quick shake of your apron would turn it into a fan on a hot day or in the kitchen when standing over the range stirring a pot to prevent food from scorching and sticking. Another fanning motion of an apron was used to herd barnyard animals or clear chickens off the porch.
   Deep pocket could hold clothes pins, a bit of balled string, a knife, keys, scissors, a handkerchief, seed packets, gardening gloves, or other small tools.
  One could always tell when company was expected as the woman of the house would change her apron. Clean and fresh if it was just neighbors, a bit fancier if it was a Sunday and the preacher was expected to drop by for dinner, and if tea was being served for a club or group the aprons would be of the finest lawn and embroidered with pretty flowers. The apron was then carefully folded and left in the kitchen before she greeted her guests.
   Men also often wore aprons as a matter of their trade. A chef's apron is a wrap around affair the length of which is adjusted by folding it over before being tied. A cobbler's apron was usually of heavy leather. The butcher's apron was of heavy cotton duck. The blacksmith apron was of oiled rawhide. An electrician's apron was of thick rubber. A shop apron was sturdy denim.
 

Cricket on the Hearth

Have you ever awaken to repeated sounds of "chirp, chrip?" Somewhere is your home a cricket has sought refuge from the dropping temperatures of oncoming winter. Their lair is difficult to locate, but the constant sound will keep you awake for many hours.
It's difficult to tell the shiny black House (Acheta domestica) from a Field cricket. The house cricket is an immigrant, introduced to the Americas from Europe. The field cricket is native born. Most crickets are nocturnal, but the house cricket will sing at any time the mood strikes them. They both live outdoors in warm weather and can frequently be found in garbage dumps. They lay their eggs in the ground during the summer to hatch the following spring.
Their addiction to warm temperatures begins their fall migration indoors where they announce their presence with a cheerful sound. The incessant chirping, which is produced by rubbing their wings together like grasshoppers may at first be greeted with pleasure, but after a day or so becomes a nuisance. The sound of the house cricket is faster than that of a field cricket and will increase or decrease in volume depending on the temperature.
What to do when your patience wears thin listening to the repetitive sound is a major dilemma and depends on where your superstition level lies.
Throughout history the cricket has been revered or disdained according to popular culture. In China and the Far East they are a sign of intelligence and good fortune. They are caught or raised and then sold in small bamboo cages for children to admire and keep as pets. They herald the coming of money and to kill one is misfortune.
The American Indians are divided, Eastern tribes consider them good fortune while some Western tribes consider them an ill omen.
Crickets are a source of food in some cultures and many a fisherman has used them as bait with good success. Money coming is a persistent belief when a cricket sings in your home.
Appalachian lore holds that if you kill a cricket its relatives will invade your house and eat your socks. We don't need crickets for that, the washer and dryer do a fine job of making socks disappear.
Take you pick, but for sure the chirp of a cricket in your home is another harbinger that winter is on its way.
Nash Black adopted and designed a logo for a roadside diner where their characters meet for meals and to tell stories, though they spell it The Kricket. See Haints http://amzn.com/1432727672 for their award nominated collection of ghost stories.