Woven in Time

   Look around your place. Each of us can find baskets being used to store onions, gather flowers & vegetables from the garden, sewing accessories, trinkets, extra towels, garden tools, balls of yarn, clothes pins, and a shopping bag in all kinds of shapes and sizes. I have one shaped like a star (from $ store) that I use at Christmas to make a no-bake low-fat 'Creme Brulee' for dessert.
   A list can go on and on, but while they're handy to stick things in we are sharing a heritage with ancestors that goes back at least 29, 016 years. The oldest basket to survive has been carbon dated back to 27,000 BC, add our AD years gives the first figure. Baskets are fragile, they're made from plant materials - hence they rapidly perish when exposed to the elements or come in contact with the soil. They were a creation of necessity to gather and store food from materials that were readily available to the weaver.
   Early peoples were hunters and gatherers who moved in small bands from place to place when food supplies diminished or calamities threaten the group. Baskets were then used as baby carriers and backpacks to transport their possessions. This was true all over the world in every known culture - a well stocked hearth had a plentiful supply of baskets. They were also used as fish traps, to boil water, and as very early cooking pots for stew.
   If you ever tried boiling water in a reed basket it is a tricky business. First the basket must be tightly woven to prevent leakage. Fibers will shrink as they dry creating gaps. Then the container must be re-soaked to close the spaces before liquid is added. Stones are heated in a fire, and then dropped into the water. It takes constant work over a long period of time to fish out the stones and then reheat them to complete the cooking process. Specialize baskets with small holes like colanders were used to extract seeds from their pods.
   Great civilizations evolved around the globe. Farmers not only used baskets to gather their grains, but they made one side flat to rest against the donkey's side so they could transport their produce to market. Woman developed a technique of carrying a basket on their heads particularly in rural areas, which is a good trick in of itself.
   Available materials influenced weaving techniques. Some common materials were tree bark, stalks & stems of plants, palm fibers, raffia, and bamboo. Anthropologists, who are knowledgeable in this area can identify where a basket originated from the material used and its construction style.
   About twenty years ago there were some lovely unique little baskets displayed in a window of one of the stores on the square. They were constructed from polished pine needles and made here in Ono County. We used those little baskets filled with seed pods of the Black Adler (look like tiny pine cones) in a scene in our latest mystery, Legacy of Death.
   Enjoy your baskets as they're a treasure that reaches back through the ages to unite people with a common utilitarian household item, that had another use. Little baskets were used to throw pieces like dice when people gambled or played games of chance.
   We've all heard the phrase "going to hell in a hand basket" when someone is doing their level best to destroy themselves. It means just that, "to rapidly deteriorate," which is what happens to a basket when it rots.
   Nash Black's ghost story collections are Haints & Games of Death.  

Working Shift

   The first Monday of September has been designated Labor Day. The last big holiday weekend of summer to pay homage to people who work at various jobs. It's a time of pure fun and relaxation.
   I looked around my house to find what was the hardest working item I owned. To my surprise after considering a typewriter (computer) I walked in the kitchen and discovered an ancient chicken feed sack, that at one time I'd used to crush and squeeze the pulp of blackberries, hanging from the tea towel rack. This lowly item won hands down in any race for multiple household jobber.
   As mentioned above once the sack was emptied it was washed in strong bleach and used as a strainer for milk or juices of tomatoes, berries, apples, etc.
   A large one made a scary ghost costume for Halloween that was easy to wear as it just popped over your head.
   The coarse ones served as ticking for making pillows from goose down. While very fine flour ones were used for pillowcases, many were embroidered with tiny stitches in patterns of flowers and butterflies and became treasured items in a hope chest. Two made excellent kitchen curtains that were decorated with scraps of printed cloth.
   Aprons were made from the sacks to protect clothes from kitchen and garden stains. It was tied around the waist in a bag fashion, then filled with seeds that were sown across pastures in early spring before a rain. This same apron was used to wave people in from the fields for a meal.
   Our friend has a long and useful life - worn soft by countless washing, which when weather permitted were boiled in a huge iron kettle and beaten with a paddle or scrubbed up and down on a washboard before washing machines and electricity.
   A clean one covered dough while it rose. Sponge sheet cake was carefully upended from the pan to a sturdy special sack, then it was used to help keep the fragile cake from breaking to make a jelly roll.
   Kitchen uses were endless from passing hot pans to dish towels embroidered for show and plain for everyday use. Many a pot, pan, and dish was dried straight from the rinsing pan.
   The feed sack served as a carrier and temperature regulator for both hot and cold dishes for a friend in need when trouble struck or to a church-supper.
   Their work never ended. They made an excellent sling for a sprained wrist or broken arm. Strips were used as tourniquets for major cuts before one could get to a doctor. Smaller strips bound up a cut thumb or finger before Band-Aids.
   Reduced to rags from heavy use they cleaned and polished the stove and table. Scoured and scrubbed from cellar to gable and dusted furniture through out the house.
   The best remembered use for a scrap of a flour sack was as a parachute for a cat named Jack, though he may have had other ideas as he hid for days after his four-point landing.

Sunshades

 

 Two head coverings that protected our parents and grandparents from the sun were sunbonnets for the ladies and a broad brimmed straw hat for the men. I can't say much for the sunbonnet as they were hot whatever material (cotton mostly) they were made of and I hate to tie something under my chin. It chokes me.
   Men went through several stages of head gear during the 20th century, old felt hats, straw hats, then for many years most men worked outside wearing some form of a baseball cap. Their faces were heavily tanned below the cap and their forehead was much lighter. Few may realize it, but Blacks also tan though nature has given them some natural protection from the sun. Now I noticed that it's a brimmed hat with mesh sides in a kind of Indian Jones style or a British Driving cap much like the newsboy cap.
   The lighter a hat is in color the more comfortable they are to wear because the sun is reflected off light colors and absorbed by dark colors. A simple experiment proves this: take a white sheet of construction paper and a black sheet putting a small thermometer under each and place them in the sun. Examine them about ten minutes later and you will find the thermometer under the black sheet is about ten degrees higher than the one under the white sheet.
   One style that remains the same over the years is the "fisherman's hat" with a wide band for hooking flies and other small implements within easy reach. No spouse will even think of washing or getting rid of that sweat stained smelly item of fishing equipment.
   Fashions come and go, woman got smart and adopted men's head gear. It's nice to imagine a woman grabbing her mate's straw hat and going out to hoe the garden and discovering how much cooler wearing the hat was than her close fitting sun bonnet. If it had a few holes in the sides, so much the better because they allowed air to circulate over her head,
   I have several straw hats hanging around to pick up and wear when I'm going to be out in the sun. I keep one on the backseat of the Jeep for wearing when I take my morning walk around the gym to keep the glare out of my eyes and off my neck.   One has  a droopy brim where I've sprayed it with Off to keep mosquitoes at bay. It's the first thing I do when I step off the back porch. When I'm working outside I fold one of Nash's colored handkerchiefs and tie it around my head to keep the sweat from running down into my eyes. For me this works better than a sweat band, which gives me a headache.
   A sunny day on the lake and everyone is packing to go home after a great weekend taking with them a bright rosy skin. I can see little indication that anyone was wearing a hat. All the chemical protection ever produced will not completely protect someone from the sun itself or the reflection of the sun off the water. One needs a bit of shade protection. 

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."   

Country Stores

The country or mercantile store stocked items that were needed on the farm or in the home that would save their customers the long trip to town when time was precious. It wasn't unusual to see fan belts hanging near jars of mustard and ketchup. Cans of 30 weight oil would be stashed next to the soda crackers. Rubber galoshes were stored on bottom shelves and 20 Mule Team Borax soap was easy to hand as it was used not only the housewife, but her spouse for cleaning hides to tan. Hoe and ax handles occupied a dark corner. Items the farm family would run out of or break at the time they were most needed. Every thing was crammed into a small dark space that was lite by kerosene lamps until RECC strung electric lines, which in remote areas did not arrive until after WWII.
A radio perched on a shelf above the cash register. It was tuned to the local station for weather reports, music, and late breaking news. A city newspaper was neatly folded on the counter and most likely a day or more old, but read by customers before being returned to the counter. It was then recycled as wrapping for a package or sandwich.
A phone was mounted on the wall beside the door. The owner collected a nickel before you turned the handle and gave the number or name of the person you wanted to call to the operator, who placed the call for you.
A few had small lunch counters for area workers to grab a sandwich (made to the customer's specifications on the spot), chips, and a beverage. Most of the time the drink cooler occupied a space on the porch within easy reach of a bench or hickory slate bottom chairs where customers relaxed between jobs and traded news of the day. Spring through Fall these were occupied from opening until the lock was turned for the evening.
Recycling of bottles was the prerogative of children, who collected the empties and earned a penny for each return. The precious earnings were gaily spent on another soda or candy bar.
Outside there was a 55 gallon drum with a pump for filling a jug with kerosene. There was one or sometimes two if the store was on a major pike out by the road for regular and diesel gas. The brands differed, but one I remember was the flying red horse. The customer obtained the key to the pump, filled our own tank, relocked it, and paid inside. A normal fill up was five gallons at 25 cents per gallon. Beside the pump was a bucket of water, a squeegee, with a towel for cleaning windshields and air for the tires was free.
The corner store was a mecca for small children whose eyes would devour all the shelves of wonders and listen with relish to the tales that were told. The town of Grab, KY in Adair County was so named because the owner of the store kept a bucket of hard candy for small children to "grab one handful" when accompanied by an adult.
Cold winds brought everyone inside to a wood stove and a barrel with a checker board, where many a battle was raged. A pot of vegetable soup and coffee kept hot on the stove replaced the summer fair.
There are still a few such stores operating in KY today and several have gained a national reputation, but the ambiance is not the same with plastic wrapped sandwiches, candies, and prepackaged goods.
Who can remember when the owner took bulk cheese or bologna from the cooler, used a counter knife to slice a hunk, fished a pickle out of the jar with his fingers, and handed it to you. Did anyone die from such cavalier sandwich makings?

Bees, Bees, Bees

The true honey bee (Apis mellifera) is a native to Europe, Asia, and Africa. They were brought to the North American continent by the early setters prior to 1638. The specie is a docile bee who doesn't attack unless they are disturbed or frightened.
Honey bees survive the winter on their stores of honey and by clustering. They move closer together and continue to move their wings, legs, and bodies to produce enough heat to keep the compact cluster alive.
Each colony can tolerate only one queen. She remains within the shelter and begins laying eggs in February. The small cone shaped white eggs are attached one to each cell. It takes about three days for them to hatch. As the days grow longer and warmer, the cluster expands and prepares for the division of the colony.
New cells are built, these brood cells are kept open and the larva are fed a diet of "royal" jelly. When the grub -like larva are full grown and fill the cell, it is capped. Then the larva pupates after spinning a cocoon.
Bees swarm when a new queen appears in the hive. The old queen takes about half of the colony and seeks a new home.
In the early days bees were kept predominately for their honey and wax, but today about 80 percent of our field crops are pollinated by honey bees. This is not true for native species of grasses and flowers--they need to be pollinated by native species of bees.
Since about 2005 there has been a drastic drop in honey bee populations, which has been contributed to many environmental factors or just plain sloppy beekeeping. Many apiculturists recommend returning to the ways of the ancestors to restore health to the colonies. The death of a hive is referred to colony collapse disorder (CCD).
Research seems  to indicate that the use of systemic pesticides, which stay in the plant for the life, known as neonicotinoids affect the bees' ability to home in on the hive because of an induced dementia leaving the queen and a few workers unable to sustain the colony.
New colonies have been imported from Italy and today in Kentucky there are 4,000 to 5,000 beekeepers managing around 20,000-25,000 colonies of bees, which is a big increase from five years-ago.
Backyard gardeners can do their part to sustain the world of pollinators by planting red clover, lavender, buttercups, and goldenrod in their flower beds as a source of food supply for the production of honey.

Ancient bee beliefs include:
Bees will not thrive if their keepers quarrel over them,
An unclaimed swarm settling on your property is bad luck, and
The bees must be informed when a death happens and be invited to the funeral, black cloth must be hung over the hives to indicate mourning.

Ancient Bee Keeping Advice
     Set hive on a plank (not low by the ground)
          Where herbe with the flowers may compass it round:
    And boordes to defend it from north and north east,
           From showers and rubbish, from vermin and beast.

I Don't Do Windows

by Dr. Elizabeth McWhorter Hardin

Whoever invented windows must have been mentally challenged. I'd like to think that BW (before windows) people were happy-rather like living in a graveyard-nobody wanting in and nobody wanting out. So there was no compelling reason to look see.
Why is cleaning windows so humiliating? Why is it that ordinarily sane people-even those who are paid for hire-flee for their lives when window cleaning is mentioned? Of all domestic chores, why is this one rated first among the most despised, dreaded, and postponed?
Each spring the window-washing battle becomes less and less challenging. And it returns, regular as the seasons. I indulge in a private pity party, then get out the hose, brushes, Windex, Fantastic, paper towels, old fabric towels, squeegee, stepladders, and head outside. I put on my big picture hat and wear dark sunglasses.
I'm going about 30 mph, hosing down each window, brushing the shutters, applying the Fantastic, drying off the shutters with the fabric towels, and applying Windex to the glass before polishing the panes with paper towels.
My mind wanders as I settle into my routine. Chief, my neighbor's dog, wanders over seeking attention with his tail wagging for a few pets. I take the time from my drudgery to minister to his needs. Time that in our busy lives has become a rare collectible.
Suddenly, a butterfly lights on the flowering hedge to become my companion for a spell. I have see a lot of butterflies, but have never taken the time to closely observe them. This one is a shimmering rainbow, a stunning kaleidoscope of gold and black and orange. I watch his antennae as they touch the small flowers. I am fascinated by his movement-in concentric circles from left to right-over and over again. There is such delicacy about his form and such beauty in his movements that his routine doesn't seem to be mundane.
The robins are nesting out in the big Elm tree. They go about their task happily twittering. Building a nest is a cooperative venture, which takes effort to compact the mud and straw. I cannot help but notice their patience, as straw by straw the nest takes shape. I can vision the sky blue eggs, followed by four tiny heads peeping out over the edge of the nest. Then mother will edge them out when it is time to take wing. Her maternal instincts will watch over them until they can fly solo.
As the long morning drifts into afternoon, I am at the last window and cannot believe it. Where has the day gone? Was I completely frazzled from anticipated tedium and boredom?
Not this time because of what I've learned from nature's audience: from Chief, the knowledge that both animals and humans need love; from the butterfly, a recognition that beauty, harmony, and industry can co-exist; and from the robin, that most of life is a perch, not a nest. I have to wonder why so many humans never teach their young to fly solo and call their act protection while clipping their wings.
From all of them, I learned the need for persistence, patience, and an unquestioning acceptance of mundane routine. One could do worse than be a washer of windows.

Dr. Elizabeth McWhorter Harden, graduated from Russell County High School, KY and ended her academic career as Dean of the Department of English at Wright State University, Dayton, OH. She wrote this piece at the farm where she grew up and has been a friend to Nash Black for more years than either care to count. We thank her for the thought provoking contribution to the Ono Almanac.
The sketch of the woman washing windows was drawn by Russell County's Barbara Appleby.

Life Before Electricity

Noted ghost storyteller Roberta Simpson Brown recalls what it was like growing up without electricity.
As a child growing up in the country I had no problems with road conditions, school closings, food supplies, home activities, or entertainment. We lived on a dirt road about a mile off the main highway. If we needed something from the nearest  store that we could not carry, Dad hitched our mule or horse to the wagon in the summer or sled in the winter.
Our sled was handmade of wood with runners carved from small crooked trees. Most of the traveling was done by foot, by wagon, or occasionally by horseback. Few farm families had cars and for those that did during World War II gasoline was rationed and was only used for travel in dire emergencies.
In the winter we did not have school closings because of the weather. We used "shanks mare" transportation, which meant we walked in all kinds of weather and didn't think a thing of it. Our one room school had a wood stove for heat and light came in from outdoors through large windows so we could see to do our work.
We always had plenty to eat as we grew most of our own food during the summer month and preserved it for winter meals. Before our root cellar was dug, we buried beds of turnips, carrots, and potatoes for winter consumption. The orchard provided, apples, cherries, pears, and peaches, while our supply of nuts came from the wooded areas around us.
My mother kept chickens, so we had lots of eggs for breakfast and chickens to fry for Sunday dinner. My father raised hogs for hams, side-meat (bacon), sausage, and other cuts of the sweet meat. It was smoked in the smoke house for later usage.
Our cow provided us with milk, cream, and butter. Summer month were the hardest times to keep our food from spoiling. My father made a spring box that kept the milk and butter cool in its fresh, running water. We also had several hives of bees that provided us with honey for eating with butter on hot biscuits and for the homemade desserts Mom created. She used both the fireplace and the iron kitchen range to fix our meals.
After supper, we did our homework, read, or wrote by kerosene lamps. We often gathered around the fireplace or wood stove to share stories if neighbors or relatives came by. It was fun to talk and listen. Sometimes we played music and sang. We had a battery-operated radio, but we had to select favorite shows. If we used the radio too much the battery ran down. Hand cranked record players were called victrolas.
Air conditioning was unheard of, so much of our time was spent outdoors. By bedtime the house would cool off enough for us to sleep inside. You can still see many old farmhouses that had open or screened second story porches for sleeping.
My mother used a washboard, hung the clothes outside to dry, and ironed them with a flatiron heated on the kitchen range. In the summer iron kettles of water were heated over open fires for doing the laundry. The last load was usually the children so their mothers didn't have to carry extra water from the spring for baths. It wasn't unusual to see women using a board across the backs of two chairs and ironing outdoors. This was also true for those who had a second wood kitchen range to do their canning in the cool shade of the trees.
We've come a long way from those days and ways of thinking. Now we take electricity for granted. We walk into our homes, flip a switch, and expect a light to come on. We press a button on a remote control and expect to operate a TV or DVD player. We are comfortable with our refrigerator, microwave, washer and dryer humming along.
Then a storm takes down the power lines. Without a time machine to transport us, we suddenly find ourselves back in time. All the conveniences that we have grown accustomed to can be snatched away in a moment, leaving us fairly helpless unless we have a store of self-reliance to see us through the rough times of life without electricity.

Roberta Simpson Brown, grew up in Russell County, KY during World War II before electricity was brought to their rural farm. She graduated from Russell County High School in 1958, Berea College, and taught English in the Louisville, KY Public School System until her retirement. She and her husband have been publishing and telling ghost stories for nearly forty years. Their next collection is Holiday Hauntings: Twelve Months of Kentucky Ghosts which will be published by the University of Kentucky Press.

Ono Happy New Year

Happy New Year from Ono in Russell County, KY.

Isaiah Young explains how Ono County got its name in the mystery novel, Sandprints of Death by Nash Black on page 95.
"When the Corps of Engineers built the dam the county was cut in half by the lake. You have to go through two other counties to get from one part to another.
"After almost thirty years the state decided to clean up the mess for extra votes in their camp. They took bits of land from other counties and created a new county. The Board of Supervisors were to select a new name and no one could agree. Everyone kept say 'Oh, no!' to any suggestion. The judge lost his temper after hours of listening to their wrangling and ruled the most popular name was Ono."
Fiction is fun and Nash Black took wide writer's latitude to create an entire county from a small community on the shores of Cumberland Lake that sports a few homes, a church, and a wide entrance ramp to the lake.
On the road to Ono you veer to the right of the country store that still has benches on the porch for customers to sit while having a cold soft drink and sharing the latest news.
If you travel the back roads of any rural community you will find Nash Black's characters having breakfast at the local eatery, going to the same functions, having a greater interest in local politics than in the state machine except during elections, and like a famous resident of St. Mary Meade they are seldom surprised at the actions of people who expect to solve their problems with murder. 
The geography of the fictional Ono County was broaden to include all of the land enclosed by five great rivers, the Mississippi, Ohio, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Cumberland. It is an area that has seen many changes and yet the customs of the residents still extend a friendly smile and it isn't unusual to be called "Honey" by a waitress. Nothing is meant by this, except as greeting so don't get your dander up.
Enjoy Ono Almanac as it unfolds on this blog. The writers have no idea what will be added in the coming year after getting off to a rough start.
We'll be talking to you.