Otis Update, and About Rosie

Otis, I'm sorry to say, is completely recovered from his bee stings and joyfully attacking insects again. Some dogs never learn.

Baxter, the vacationing golden retriever who must put up with Otis' overabundance of energy and jealousy, is suffering mightily and, I swear, losing some weight because of the constant observation of so much useless energy.

Otis bounds. He jumps. He yelps, howls, cries, whatever it takes to get attention. He drags bones, sticks, cornstalks, ragged baseballs and anything he can find onto the front walk. He even managed to get hold of the top layer of a piece of plywood on the porch floor and has torn it loose. He is a mess. We adore him.

Baxter is a golden love. He's missing his peeps to be sure, but he is enjoying some time in the country and goes around asserting his claim to his country estate by marking every tree, flower, bush and weed around our yard. He will have the big head when he goes home to Leesburg and tells the other dogs about his place over in West Virginia.

Rosie the beagle unfortunately did not work out. She never got over her keen interest in the chickens and turkeys, and the first chicken to escape the fence lived only a few seconds before Rosie had killed her. And did not listen. And tried to be sneaky about it, skulking away with that look dogs have when they've done something bad and think they can get away with it.

Having worked with the dog, scolded her, tried to teach her that the poultry was not to be messed with, I could not risk keeping her after she'd tasted a bird. I also did not feel comfortable giving her to the neighbor who wanted to make her a hunting dog because his dogs often get loose and travel the mile from his house to mine regularly. She'd have been back, no doubt about it.

I was very sad to have to take her to the shelter. We tried. I hope against reality that she found a home. If she'd been vegetarian we'd have happily kept her.

But we have Otis and he is as happy as he can be. Even Baby tolerates him and occasionally even plays with him--a funny sight watching a 14-year-old cocker trying to play with a puppy!

And Otis is scared of chickens. Wait til he meets the rooster who is coming to our henhouse this weekend! That should be interesting.

Then there is the wild kitten Aaron is bringing to us. A new show might be coming to the farm--Otis and the Wild Kitten.

Ack! My Refrigerator Knows Too Much!

A simple little test, 4 or 5 questions, and all is revealed! According to Blogthings:

You like to be surrounded by things you love. (yep, that's right on the spot.)

You aren't exactly greedy, but you can be materialistic at times. (hey, I resemble that remark!)

You don't tend to be a very adventurous person, but you do surprise everyone now and then. You have a bit of a wild side. (Ummm...)

You are responsible, together, and mature. You act like an adult, even when you don't feel like it. (Darn, this sounds boring)

You are likely to be married - and very busy. (Oh yeah!)

Now how does my fridge know so much? I hardly have a speaking acquaintance with it!

Stress Relief

Although my job continues to keep my stress level high, there are things that reduce stress with no effort on my part.

For example, today I went to my favorite coffee shop, the one that always has hazelnut coffee (a stress reducer in itself). The girl at the counter said "You're welcome" with a delightful British accent that immediately took me to my mother's kitchen. I found out that she was from a place only 20 miles or so from where my mother was raised.

On the sidewalk in town, three pink rose petals graced the bricks.

The soft wind before another rain shower was like feather strokes on my face.

Little things, but they made the day, one with a few bumps and hassles, smooth out and brighten, if only for a few moments.

What have you seen or heard lately that worked as stress relief for you?

Learning to Read

Bloggers are talking about the first day of school, and that brings back some memories for all of us. My first school experiences are a little different than most.

I attended the first Catholic school in Prince William county, Virginia. The school (All Saints Catholic) was started in a room in the Benedictine convent called Linton Hall.

The chapel at St. Benedict Convent in Bristow, VA from http://www.osbva.org/About_Us/aboutus1.htm

My first year of school was also the first year for the school. There were two grades in one room--kindergarten and first. Our teacher, Sister Ernestine, taught both grades. She went on to become the Mother Superior of the convent; back in 1957 she was young, lively and fun. I adored her and decided I would grow up to be a nun just like her. How surprising to read that she celebrated her 60th year as a nun in 2004.

I had no clue of what school was about. I know I could read already, although I did not know the alphabet--I'm not sure how I learned to read but it seems to have always been something I did. Possibly I mimicked my older brothers and learned how to decipher words in some way from them. I especially recall Sister Ernestine teaching us the letter "B." Now I knew what a bee looked like so when she drew the letter on the blackboard, I promptly wrote it sideways, laying down on its flat side.

Sister stopped at my desk, puzzled.

"What is that?"

"It's a bee," I said.

"No, you make a B like this." She demonstrated on my paper.

"But they fly like this." I drew my bee, adding wings because hers didn't have any and I could not see how it would fly like that.

"This is a different B," she explained. "Try doing it like I did."

"Okay." I made a B like hers, but did not understand why it was so important to make a bee that flew straight up. I'd never seen one do that.

I'm not sure when the concept of the alphabet finally sank in. But I do remember reading from my reading book on the first day of school, taking it home and finishing it that night. I may not have known what the letters were, but I knew how they worked.

Do you remember learning to read? What do you recall about it?

Rain at Last, and Thoughts of Fall

After three weeks of dry, dry weather, we are finally getting some rain from the leftovers of Tropical Storm Fay. It's too late to save most of the vegetable garden, but pretty much everything was finished anyway.

The only things left in the garden are tomatoes, peppers, beets, some new lettuce that should be eating size next week, the Bloody Butcher corn that will, I hope be used to make corn meal, watermelons, cantaloupes and pumpkins. And herbs, of course. Now that I look at the list, I guess there is still a good bit still growing.

Cidermaking in 2006--goodness, Clayton and Grace have changed since then!

The weather is certainly turning to Fall, and doing it early. Trees are already showing color due to the very dry weather and the heat the past week. Larry dug the potatoes, let them cure and put them in the potato bin in the cellar. We had one big one baked for dinner tonight and it was delicious (we grow Red Pontiacs).

The hogs left for the slaughterhouse on Sunday. I wish I had pictures to share, but unfortunately I let Hannah take photos while I prepared breakfast for the hog wrassling crew. From the noise and later reports, it must have been quite an adventure in the piglot.

The turkeys are now ready to dress out, and that's on the agenda for this weekend. It's been about 15 years since we last raised turkeys so I am hoping I remember how to do it. We have four, and I am considering raising about 25 next year so that we will have our own source of meat and not have to buy so much chicken.

And Derek's apples are ready to make into cider. I expect ours are ready too. We made it two years ago and it was a lot of fun and not much trouble. We were able to purchase a very slightly used cider mill that year, and with this year's crop will probably make enough cider to recoup the cost of the mill if you figure the price of the cider we produce at $4 a gallon. The first year we made 30 gallons, and since we paid only $250 for the cider mill, we only need to make about 35 gallons to recover our investment in the mill. I wish in a way that we still had the pigs, though--they would have loved the plummies left after the pressing.

Another project looming has nothing to do with gardens and harvest, but everything to do with preparing for winter. We purchased the gas line to begin the task of running free gas from our well to the house. This is no small undertaking, and since we know exactly nothing about what we're doing, it's a little scary. We'll be checking with our neighbors to see how they did it before we start, but I still expect this to be a time-consuming and probably stressful undertaking. And in the end, we still don't have any gas appliances! But one step at a time. First the gas, then the appliances.

Larry is lobbying for a gas furnace to head the list. He seems to be dreading getting in wood this year. Well, we are getting older and it's not an easy task. Usually he's onto it early in September, but last year it was October before he started. I don't expect we will be able to purchase and install a furnace this year, however--the funds are just not there at the moment. But I'm looking at them, trying to figure out how all this stuff works. So it may come sooner than I think.

The weekend promises to be busy, with all my sons coming home (I hope) for the holiday, cidermaking, turkeys to dress out, and I know the guys will be doing some serious golfing. Cookouts, a bonfire, and memories will make up the evenings. I'm looking forward to it.

Poor Pitiful Puppy: Otis and the Bees

Poor Otis!



His love of adventure and exploring has led him to misery.



Apparently our black lab puppy dug up a yellow jackets' nest yesterday.


His little face is swollen terribly and he is miserable. He ran to meet me when I got home, crying and wanting 100% of my attention. He wailed most of the evening, crying like a child anytime he bumped his face into anything. Big knots are swelled out of his jaw and he looks so funny, but so sad.




Otis spent the evening on the couch--an absolutely, positively, never-ever bad-dog event--being pampered and commiserated with. He can only eat little bits hand-fed to him because his mouth is also swollen. And he is so quiet! The wailing ended in painful patience as he rested on the couch, waiting for this bad thing to be over.


Then he spent the night in our bed, allowing me just enough space to stretch out on my side. I mean, he's a poor hurt puppy, after all. He needs a lot of space. The little guy slept hard, and this morning looks better, but still very swollen. He's on a soft diet today--scrambled eggs and lots of soft words and petting.


Baxter, my number 2 son's golden retriever who is here on extended vacation while they get their house ready to sell, seems to be laughing at Otis' dilemma. Bax is enjoying being in the house, though. Can't leave him outside while Otis is in! (Baby, the cocker, doesn't care. She's the cat and she does her own thing--sleeping under the porch.)


Larry? Give him a dog, any dog, and he's a happy man.


And he's trying hard not to laugh at Otis.


Poor little dog.

Blennerhassett Island: Part 1

Five granddaughters and I made the trip to Blennerhassett Island State Park last Tuesday, after being disappointed by the park being closed on Monday. The trip was worth the extra drive. First, we had to ride the ferry over, because the island is only accessible by boat. The girls lined up at the rail to watch the water go by. It was, as you can see, a lovely summer day.
The ferry had a classic wood steering wheel and I was taking a picture of it when the Captain said, "oh, you can do better than that!" And let Hannah drive the boat.
Whoa! Allison got a turn at the wheel too.
On the island, we took care of first things first--a picnic under the spreading trees. We didn't bring fancy food--just peanut butter, elderberry jelly, bananas, apples, etc. It was simple and good.

The girls tried and failed to circle one of the gigantic trees on the island.
In the right background, you can see one of the horse and wagon teams that provide guided island tours for visitors. We took one of those trips later in the day, but first the girls wanted to see what we had come for: Blennerhassett mansion.


I will have another post with photos of the mansion, but first I want to tell you a short--very short-- history of this place so you will understand why it was a must-see for us last week.
In the late 1790's, Harman Blennerhassett shocked his friends and family by marrying his niece in Ireland. The young couple had to flee the disapproval of their families and set sail for America. They were quite wealthy; Harman had inherited a sizable fortune, and even Margaret would later come into money of her own.
When they landed in New York, the Blennerhassetts began looking for land. They wanted land in the wilderness, where they proposed to build a mansion and a veritable Eden. They eventually made their way to Pittsburgh and purchased the upper half of Belpre Island. The island later became known as Blennerhassett Island.
The couple followed through on their plans and built a lovely mansion on the crest of a little rise of land on the island. The home was visible from the Ohio River and travelers marveled to see such a place in the frontier country. Everyone was welcome and the Blennderhassetts entertained both the famous and the unknown in their stately home.
But money only goes so far. A laboratory, conservatory, extensive gardens, imported building materials and furnishings and lavish entertaining drained their fortune. Enter Aaron Burr, former vice president of the US.
Burr was on the run after the deadly duel with Alexander Hamilton in Weehawken, NJ. While in hiding he became acquainted with a scheme to establish an empire in the western US that would extend from the Ohio River to California. Burr and his partners in this enterprise would become the royalty of this new empire. While on his way to New Orleans to seek Spanish support for his plan, Burr stopped at Blennerhassett Island.
Harman, ever the romantic (and feeling the drain of his funds) saw the adventure as a way to recoup his fortune. Burr was well known for his persuasive, charismatic personality--and for his way with the ladies. I have often wondered if there may have been some sparks between Burr and the young Mrs. Blennerhassett but if there were, history did not record it.
President Jefferson heard of the plot to establish an empire and sent troops after Burr and Blennerhassett. They fled the island, Leaving Margaret and her children behind. The federal troops trashed the home and the island when the learned they had missed the conspirators. but Burr and Blennerhassett were eventually captured and put on trial. Neither was convicted of the charge of treason because no treasonable act had yet been committed. But the Blennerhassetts were financially ruined by the ordeal.
The story of Harman and Margaret goes on to a cotton plantation in Mississippi, where they lost the remainder of their fortune. They returned to the British Isles where Harman died in 1831 at the age of 67, a bitter man. Margaret returned to the US and lived in New York City until her death in 1842. She tried in vain to force the US Government to reimburse her for the losses the family sustained in the federal raids on her island home and for the costs of the treason trial.
The mansion burned to the ground in 1811. Only the foundation stones remained. But thanks to the efforts of local historical societies, it was rebuilt in the 1980's and '90's and is furnished with some of the original furniture and fittings.
The story is so romantic, so full of suspense and excitement, anger, reproach, and the early history of America that I am amazed it has not yet been developed into a major motion picture (I've only touched on the high points here). It would be a stunning show.

Blennerhassett Island: Part 2

Ah, the Blennerhassett mansion. Although not huge by today's McMansion standards, it was amazing for its time because of its unique Palladian design and its size and elegance in a territory where most people were living in rough log cabins.
The main house is connected by breezeways to the summer kitchen on the left and Harman's study and laboratory on the right. The guides told us that probably the breezeways were enclosed and that seems reasonable to me--who would want to walk to their study in freezing snow and rain?
Looking from the front of the study towards the summer kitchen.
The rooms have been beautifully decorated in period furniture, and we were assured by the guide that the bright wall colors were all available during the time period when the mansion was built. Did the Blennerhassetts use these colors? No one knows, but in all historical records visitors describe the home as stunning and elegant.

A view of part of the summer kitchen. The volunteers and donors have stocked the kitchen with a wealth of kitchen tools and furniture that would have been in use at the time the home was built.

After our wagon ride around the island it was time to get back on board the Spirit sternwheeler for our trip back to land. It was a wonderful day, mostly because the girls were so interested in the history of this little place that played such a big role in the settlement of the Ohio Valley and early American history.

The Magic

Magic lilies! I love these unexpected flowers.

The bulbs send up leaves similar to those of daffodils in the spring. Then the leaves die off and for a month or so there is no sign that anything is happening. Then sometime in July I go outside and voila! Lilies!

They certainly earn their name. Bare stems with no leaves support ethereal pink lilies that last a surprisingly long time. This year the lilies were more beautiful than I ever remember. Perhaps those ground moles tunneling around disturbed the earth enough to allow the bulbs to expand? Whatever the reason, they've made a real show this month.


Other names for this lovely plant include: Surprise Lily, Resurrection Lily, Naked Lady, (Latin) Lycoris squamigera, and Hardy Amaryllis.

Elderhostel Storytelling

Ah.

After all the hassles with the college and VA today, it was such a pleasure to go to Cedar Lakes to tell stories to the Elderhostel group. I love telling to seniors--they remember when people sat on porches and shared memories, a few lies and a lot of jokes.

The evening reinforced my resolve to leave my current job and be a full-time storyteller/writer/??? who knows what?

I know I'll be poor again. I know it will be stressful. I know that all the sage financial advisers will say it's a very bad idea.

But it is what I am going to do. It's what I need to do at this point in my life.

Seismic What?

First we saw cables strung alongside the road (Rte 33, between Ripley WV and Spencer WV). What on earth? The cables hooked to power boxes with outlets, and new cables plugged into the boxes picked up the line. The power boxes seemed to be about 100 feet apart.

Theory 1: Spencer had a serious power outage and the whole town was running on this extension cord that ran from the Ohio River to Spencer.

Theory 2: My son who returned recently from Iraq saw the power boxes and immediately thought: IEDs! (individual explosive devices, i.e. roadside bombs)

Theory 3: The aliens are coming.

Then a few days later we saw this sign. Seismic? Here? In Jackson County?

I scoured the local newspaper for an explanation. Although there is great coverage of local high school football and assorted wedding announcements, there is nothing about seismic activity in the county. Maybe no one noticed any tremors, or the miles of cable stretched through town, across major intersections and along the highway for about 40 miles?

Next we saw this--a truck on top of a hill with a big antenna sticking up. Signaling Mars? Seismic cosmic activity, perhaps? We were still clueless.

The bizarre posed willingly with the rural--a tractor and hay rake with a sign that says...


Monster trucks along the road, with big flat platforms under them seemed to be vibrating to some beat all their own.

Okay.

I haven't heard about any earthquakes around here lately. So what the???

I saw the name of the company on the side of the trucks and looked them up online. Dawson Geophysical. According to their website, they test under the surface for the likelihood of oil and gas.

Duh. Drilling has been frantic in this area for the past two years. So why are they testing now? Who is paying for this extensive test? Why should we, the taxpayers who must travel this road every day, have to deal with these crews blocking traffic for a profit-making endeavor that will undoubtedly lead to more inconvenience, destroyed land and probably people being ripped off for their mineral rights? Who authorizes/approves such things?

The Dawson website shows these imaging trucks in action at the Dallas Fort Worth Airport--did you know they're drilling for oil and gas on the airport grounds? That made me wonder--does the governor of West Virginia plan to drill for natural gas below the highway? He is, after all, all about big business and bringing business to WV.

I have to say the crews doing this work did a good job of placing warning signs, directing traffic and keeping the operation as smooth as possible. I think there was at least one accident due to the stopped traffic, if I interpreted the skidmarks, scattered gravel and oil stain in the highway in a bad curve correctly.

I would like to think these trucks are here to find out why the road is falling apart so badly--even though all of us who travel Rte 33 know that the reason for its terrible condition is the hundreds of gas drilling trucks, logging trucks that travel the road weekly, and general lack of maintenance under the current governor.

But I think the real reason for the "seismic crews" is even more extensive exploration of the natural gas and oil fields that lay beneath this part of West Virginia, and I wonder if we're in for even more disruption in the months to come as drilling activity rises to a fever pitch.

Or maybe they found nothing except a few buried junk cars, a Big Foot skeleton and the missing White House emails.

Road Trip with the Girls

We headed out Monday morning with no firm plan in mind--breakfast at the Downtowner and then? As we ate we decided to try a trip to Blennerhassett Island State Park near Parkersburg, WV. When we arrived, however, we learned that the Park is not open on Monday. Bummer! So we set out to find other fun:



This is the Blennerhassett Hotel in Parkersburg. Beautifully restored, it has (in my opinion anyway) lost some character in the process--but it's still incredibly beautiful and would be a great place to spend a weekend.

A block away we discovered the Oil and Gas Museum. Many historians argue that West Virginia was the first place that oil was discovered in the US, at Burning Springs in Kanawha County. The Van Bibber brothers, trying to drill for salt kept getting black oil instead. Very annoying--until its uses and values were discovered! Here is a description of how salt was obtained back in 1809:

The salt water is obtained by sinking a tight curb, or gum, at the edge of the river, down about twenty feet, to the rock which underlies the river, and then boring into the rock. At first the borings did not exceed two hundred feet in depth, but the upper strata of water being exhausted, the wells were gradually deepened, the water of the lower strata being generally stronger than the upper had ever been. Until last year, (1842,) none of the wells exceeded six or seven hundred feet in depth. Mr. Tompkins, an enterprising salt-maker, was the first to extend his borings to a thousand feet, or more. His experiment was attended with a most unexpected result. He had somewhat exceeded a thousand feet, when he struck a crevice in the rock, and forth gushed a powerful stream of mingled gas and salt water. Generally, the salt water in the wells was obtained in rock merely porous, and rose by hydrostatic pressure to the level of the river. To obtain the strong water of the lower strata, unmixed with the weak water above, it is the practice to insert a copper tube into the hole, making it fit tightly below by means of wrapping on the outside, and attaching the upper end to the pump, by which the water is drawn up to the furnaces on the river bank.

When Mr. Tompkins inserted his tube, the water gushed out so forcibly, that instead of applying the pump, he only lengthened his tube above the well. The stream followed it with undiminished velocity to his water-cistern, sixty feet above the level of the river. (Early Industry in Kanawha County, Historical Collections of Virginia (1845) by Henry Howe. Excerpted from a longer article at the WV Culture and History website.

Here are a few pics from inside the museum. Doesn't it look like an interesting place?

We decided to journey on up the Ohio River to Sistersville, which was quite an oil and gas boom town in the late 19th-early 20th century. At one point, according to a town employee I spoke with last month, the town had more millionaires per capita than any other place in the world. Unfortunately, Sistersville languishes today, one of many small towns off the interstate track that is slowly losing industry and population. But in its day, Sistersville was a booming place. And it is still a beautiful place to visit.

We stopped at my favorite place in Sistersville, The Wells Inn. Rumor has it that the hotel is haunted; although I've stayed there twice, I have to admit I've seen nothing to make me a believer. But stories abound. On our visit this trip, several staff members told stories about things they've experienced, and we toured rooms that visitors have claimed to be disturbing or haunted.

The hotel is currently for sale; for a mere $425,000, you could own a haunted hotel. Truthfully, I'd love to own and run it, but practically speaking I think it would be very difficult to make the place pay its way. Its huge, old and probably an energy sink as far as heating and cooling. But it is so lovely, with each room decorated in a unique vintage style, and the old Wooden Derrick bar in the basement and the grand dining hall. I hope someone will buy the place and bring it into its glory.

Then the ferry ride to Ohio...

and a quick drive to Sardis, where they still have a town pump,

and lunch at Marv's Place

where Hannah enjoyed good ice cream and sarsaparilla soda.

Then back across the Ohio on the ferry to visit Greenwood Cemetery again (photos from there in a later post). In Sistersville we saw...

a street called Diamond that had to be explored. We stopped to investigate this tall chimney...

and found it was attached to a two-story building, but the floor and all woodwork was gone.

This is what's left of the roof.

And down inside, the remains of some type of furnace. Was this a glassmaking factory? a coke plant? charcoal oven? I'll need to do more research to find out. But the place is lovely in its own way, a reminder of work, heat and people long past.

And finally home at the end of a long, interesting day.

Unlikely Friends

This young deer (I think it's a buck, but it is difficult to tell from this photo) has been seen a lot lately in the company of a large flock of wild turkeys. Here they are eating the drops from one of our apple trees, just as the sun was setting. This seems to be part of their daily travel route.

I wonder why he has chosen the turkeys as friends. Is it because they know where to find food? or because they raise such an alarm at any remote sign of danger? Where is his mother/siblings--deer usually travel in family groups, so why is he alone?

How-To

At an auction recently, I bought a box of linens that also contained a newspaper clipping from the 1960's, as far as I can tell. Now I loved the yellow tablecloth and hand-embroidered linens in the box, but the clipping was cool--s0meone obviously liked the 'home remedies' for household problems.

Which made me think about other household shortcuts I know, like:

*scrub your white leather athletic shoes with toothpaste to clean stains and brighten the white

*scrub your hands with sugar to remove stains and odors (works pretty well after chopping onions!)

*put a couple tablespoons of vinegar in the pressure canner to make the water boil more quickly, and to make your jars come out clean and sparkly

*salt makes a good scrub too, for cast iron and aluminum pans

*use a used slice of lemon to wipe down your sink and give your kitchen a fresh smell

*put your kitchen sponges and scrub brushes in the dishwasher to clean and disinfect them

*we've put plastic shower shoes and flip flops in the dishwasher too--they come out nice and clean!

*you can wash your plastic shower curtain liner in the washer, and then hang it back up to dry--or tumble briefly in the dryer to smooth the wrinkles before hanging.

*wipe the mirrors in your bathroom with your bath towel when the mirrors are covered with steam to clean them quickly and easily

*simmer a little whole pickling spice to make the whole house smell good; or, use cinnamon sticks and whole nutmeg to do the same thing

These are just a few of the tricks I use. What are your favorite shortcuts or low-cost methods of getting things done around the house?

Happy Birthday, Jared!

He's 17 today--our oldest grandson. What a guy!



To Jared

The road you've traveled hasn't been easy,
you've had many turns and troubles,
but I remember when you were a baby,
drinking your bottle and blowing bubbles.

I remember how you poured my coffee
when you were only two,
how alone you put on your shorts and tees
and learned to tie your shoes at three.

Tommy was the one who gave you the egg
that you smashed on the sliding glass door--
we laughed at the egg running down your leg
--that was the year you were four.

I remember the car you rolled over the hill,
--weren't you only two at the time?
And the rope swing that broke and scared us all;
what a relief that you came out of it fine!

Then there was the time your tried to ride
the picnic table on skateboards' wheels.
The table--of course it didn't survive
the wild ride over the hill.

We can laugh at the stories, and shake our heads
when we remember your childhood days,
But you're one of a kind, grandson Jared
and we wouldn't want you any other way.

So I hope you have a wonderful day
that's full of memories and love
And I'll keep praying your Angel's okay
and keeping close watch from above.

Granny

Book Review: Leeway Cottage

William Morrow, 2005. ISBN-10: 0060539054 ISBN-13: 978-0060539054

I was browsing at my local library, looking for some light summer reading, when I chanced on this novel. The author was familiar to me; I enjoyed her Domestic Pleasures several years ago.

For the past few years, I have struggled to read novels. Real life has been so much more, well, real than anything authors can think up to fascinate me. I read many short stories, and a lot of nonfiction. But I was in the mood for a good solid escape novel, and I found it in Leeway Cottage.

The story is a sweeping saga of one family's relationships, placed against the backgrop of world events and their summer home on the coast of Maine. The book starts with the death of the matriarch of the family, and then moved back through time to trace the journey of the daughter, Annabee (who later decided to be called Sidney) and her relationship with her mother, Leeway Cottage, World War II and the other world events that shaped her times.

The book grabbed me within the first few pages. As I read on, I became curious and more than a little puzzled by the conflicted interactions of daughter and mother. This, I admit, is out of my area of experience. While all daughter may have issues with their mothers from time to time, my mother and I had a strong and loving relationship. I found it difficult to identify with either of them, and either liked or disliked one or the other from page to page.

Most fascinating to me was the part of the book that followed Annabee's husband. Laurus' family and their struggles and resistance efforts in the Netherlands during World War II. I would have almost preferred to read a whole book that focused on the sister and brother of Laurus and his parents. There the true grandeur and depth of Gutcheon's writing and research was strongly apparent and I stayed up late, reading each page quickly and anxiously as the story unfolded.

Sometimes books read like they were written to be a screenplay. Sometimes Leeway Cottage read that way to me, especially in scenes describing boat races and mother-daughter arguments (I can just picture Meryl Streep as the self-indulgent mother, and perhaps Helena Bonham Carter as the headstrong daughter), but Gutcheon's skilled use of language stands on its own, no graphics required.

The Gatehouse Ghost

As I was browsing photos with my granddaughters we came upon a picture of a pretty little brick building, and I had to laugh out loud as I recalled the night I spent there with Tommy and Larry.

About 10 years ago, I was invited to tell ghost stories for a haunted trail. Tommy, my youngest son, was about eleven. He and my husband would accompany me on the trip. The October weather was crisp and bright, a perfect time for ghost stories and spooky walks in the woods.

Part of my payment was a night's stay in the Gatehouse. The little house was beautifully furnished in period antiques, and the setting on the college grounds was as pretty as could be. We were all looking forward to spending time there.

The young man who showed us around was also the one who had planned the haunted trail. As he and I discussed what story I should tell (he wanted something planned around the various scary things along the trail) he mentioned that there was a ghost story connected with the gatehouse itself.

"Really!" I was all ears. I am always up for a good ghost story.

According to our host, there was once a family living in the gatehouse who had a young daughter. One winter night the child somehow wandered up to the third floor of the tower and fell out of the window. The weather was well below freezing, and the poor child was dead when she was found in the morning.

"People have said they've seen her here," he said. "They say she wears a long white gown, just a little child. They see her in the window up there." We looked up at the window--it was a steep drop, and a fall from there could certainly be fatal.

The young man left and we began unpacking. All evening I noticed Tommy hanging close by me. I tripped over him at every turn and it made unpacking difficult to say the least.

"What's the matter with you?" I finally asked, exasperated.

"I don't want to see that girl!" he said, pulling even closer to my side.

After the storytelling (which went very well--I wrote a story based on an old chilling tale I'd read, threading it with the scenes the young man had described from the haunted trail) we returned to the gatehouse and prepared for bed. Larry and I planned to sleep in the master bedroom, and Tommy would have the smaller bedroom across the hall.

Tommy, however, would have none of that. He was sleeping with me! Dad could sleep across the hall. He could not be persuaded to enter the small bedroom at all.

So that's what we did. I put on my favorite white nightgown and Tommy and I settled down in the big fourposter while Larry snuggled down in the smaller room. Unfortunately, Larry snuggled down a little too well. He began to snore so loudly that it was impossible for Tommy and I to fall asleep. I got out of bed and walked across the hall, intending to wake Larry up so he'd change positions and hopefully stop snoring.

I stood in his doorway and whispered, "Larry! Larry! Wake up!"

Larry sat bolt upright in the bed. On seeing me in my long white gown in the door he started to yell--AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

Tommy in the next room heard his Dad's yells and convinced that the ghost was near, he started yelling too. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

I flipped on the light. "What in the world is the matter with you two?" I asked.

Then I realized what had happened. "You idiots! Stop yelling and go to sleep!"

It was a long time before I quit laughing and got to sleep myself. The next day Tommy hung close again. He followed me into the kitchen and even the bathroom. Nothing could convince him that the closest he'd come to seeing a ghost was the night before in the hallway between the bedrooms.

As for Larry, he denies the whole thing. Scared of ghosts? Not him!

*****************************************************************

There are other ghost stories connected with this college, but those I found online are not as authoritative as I would like. However, should you ever visit Davis and Elkins College, ask about the ghosts that are supposed to haunt Halliehurst and Graceland mansions.

Maggie: Happy Birthday

Our family has a lot of August birthdays--today is my sister Maggie's celebration of 51 years. Maggie is number 8 of 13, and number 5 of the first string of sisters (the pattern was 3 brothers, 5 sisters, 2 brothers, 3 sisters).

Here she is, about 1961, I think (from l to r, Judy, Maggie, Theresa, me and Stephen). She would have been about 3 years old here. This was taken in the back yard of the big old house on Quarry Road in Manassas.
A few years later, and Maggie looks a lot more grown up. I remember the dress she's wearing very well--it had been my favorite until I finally outgrew it and reluctantly passed it on. This is also at the Quarry Road house, when it was still 514 East Quarry Street.
From left, back row: me, Mary, Cathy, Judy, John. Front row: Lizzie, Julie, Theresa, Maggie

Life passed quickly during our adult years, and I find that I have very few pictures of my sisters during our 20's, 30's and 40's. We were so busy raising kids and being on the other end of the camera, I think. This photo was taken at the Mother's Day Tea my sister Mary hosted after Mom passed away. Dad was the guest of honor. I wasn't able to be there, so this photo is very dear to me. What surprises me about Maggie is how little she shows her age--lucky sister! Even here, after a year of great stress due to Roger's burns, she still looks about 30 years old.

Last summer Maggie and Roger met us on vacation, and we celebrated his recovery from burns with a lovely weekend at Pipestem State Park. This was one special occasion--to see Maggie so happy and relaxed after a tough year was a gift. Her sense of humor never failed her during some dark days, and her strength and strong will probably contributed to Roger's survival. The love between them is a lovely thing to see.

At this year's family reunion, we tried hard to get a good group photo of all of us. Of course, it proved impossible to get everyone in one place at one time, and when we did manage to gather 9 of us, we could not all be still and get one good photo! Someone was always moving or cracking up. But that's what this family is like--loving to talk, to laugh and to share good times together. Maggie is on the far right, obviously still laughing at some comment. When I think of her, I think of her smiling.
So Happy Birthday, Sister! I hope this year brings you many, many good things, and many, many reasons to laugh.

Boys and Girls

The girls (clockwise from front left): Jordan, older sister to Allison, Kate and Cassidy; and sisters Haley and Hannah

I raised 5 sons. I learned a lot about boys during those years.

This week, I've had 5 teen and pre-teen granddaughters at my house. What I've learned:

1. The bathroom is never empty (we only have one, so competition is fierce)
2. Don't let anyone tell you girls don't eat much.
3. Toilet paper doesn't last long.
4. Insane giggles erupt at any time, over anything.
5. Girls joke about passing gas as much as boys do.
6. The bathroom is never empty. The toilet paper is always empty.
7. We will stop at every rest area and fast food place en route to wherever we go because someone has to go to the bathroom.
8. They will need hair ties, my shoes, bug spray, and food at regular and frequent intervals (but some are out of luck on shoes because their feet are bigger than mine!).
9. Bottled water disappears faster than water on Venus.
10. They will play 20 Questions for hours and never tire of it. Who cares if they don't know the moon is not a planet or that a certain movie star isn't blonde? It isn't about accuracy, ya know!
11. They will be fascinated by the romance in local history, and want to hear scary stories over and over.
12. Any little thing can make them squeal. Sometimes nothing at all makes them squeal.
13. They can stay up as late as I do, and will sleep several hours later in the morning (except Hannah, who is literally always up with the chickens).
14. They will sleep on air mattresses anywhere, as long as they are close together (except Kate, who prefers privacy).
15. They will believe anything Poppa Larry tells them but are beginning to get wise to his tall tales. (for years they believed he was six feet tall, but his legs got blown off in Vietnam and the doctors sewed his feet to his knees!)
16. They scatter as much stuff as boys do, but their stuff is smaller, and usually pink or purple (unless it's Haley's--then it's camo).

17. They love to gather eggs.

18. They hate the smell of the pigpen.

19. They know chants, rhymes, songs and can sing all the Free Credit Report.com TV commercials.
20. Did I mention the bathroom is never empty?

I could go on, but you get the picture. I am constantly amazed and silenced in the face of so much female force.

What fun!

Happy Birthday, James!

James is 7! How amazing--I remember so well the night he was born, Jaime's long, long labor, his birth in the wee morning hours. I remember him learning to walk, talking so early and clearly. He is so like his Daddy, curious about everything and never hesitating to take something apart to see how it works, still curious about that chair on the wall.

Happy Birthday, James! Granny will see you soon.