Granny Sue, Where Are You?

I'm here, and have been so busy that I have not had time to post! It's been a whirlwind for the past two weeks. Now I see some downtime ahead, and I am looking forward to slowing down, catching up, and looking ahead.

Here's where we've been: we got home from Virginia last Sunday; Monday I was storytelling in the southern part of West Virginia while Larry went to doctor appointments. Tuesday we had visitors and a really enjoyable time catching up with my former sister-in-law (but still sister at heart) and her husband. Liz is a midwife in Maryland and such an interesting person, and her husband told tales of his childhood as a military brat, about his dad being run out of Germany as a spy and other such adventures---fascinating. We left Wednesday for Elkins, WV for a storytelling gig at a small camp for inner city boys. The camp was high on a mountain in Tucker county in an old farmhouse with chestnut woodwork, just beautiful. The time with these boys was memorable, something I will not soon forget. They listened, asked questions and hugged me as I left.

After the storytelling we dropped in late for the singing circle at Irish Week at Augusta Heritage at Davis & Elkins College. Last year I attended the full week; I could not do it this year but I wanted to re-connect with the friends I had made last year. Such a welcome I received! I cannot tell you how good it felt. We sang for a few hours, then left for our motel.

The next day we explored Rich Mountain, a Civil Wat battle site, so I could get background information for a ghost story.

We also spent a lot of time in the historic town of Beverly, which had close connections to the battle and a long interesting history outside of the Civil War.

We returned to Irish Week for the singing circle in the evening and for the traditional, rowdy "Country Roads" evening at the Ice House Pub. It was just awesome, three floors surrounding an open well to the lower level, crowded with people singing "Country Roads" with an Irish band. To hear it with bagpipes, concertinas, accordions, fiddles, banjos, guitars, flute, and who knows what else is just something you have to experience to understand. We left the rollicking party at 2am, knowing we needed to be up and out by 9am.

Which we managed to do, getting home just after noon to prepare for our next visitors, my sister Mary and her husband David. They arrived at 4pm and we visited a bit, then took them to dinner in Pomeroy, Ohio to the fantastic Wild Horse restaurant, which is right on the Ohio River. The meal was excellent as always, and we watched boats and barges passing the restaurant windows. The annual Blues Festival was in full swing, so we wandered the streets a bit, listening to the music and looking at the beautiful old buildings of Pomeroy.

Mary and David left last night, and Derek arrived soon after, looking for his welding machine and food. He'd just got back from a training mission to Indiana, so we went to his house to help him clean up and visit with him and his daughter Haley.

Today we just chilled. I made blackberry jam (18 pints, just so pretty) and put berries in the freezer. Warren and Emily, the folks who bought land from us, stopped with their two children to visit a bit and I did some phone catch-up with a few family members, and caught up on email.

The rest of this week is chill time. No gigs. No visitors (that I know of, but they're always welcome). Some tomatoes and cucumbers to put up. Some program things to put away. Paperwork to catch up. Stories to prepare for the weekend's Inland Waterways Festival. Life is back to something like normal and I plan to thoroughly enjoy it.

And I promise, there will be posts and photos this week too. I miss my blog friends. Thank you for waiting for me!

Home!ing

Is there anything like coming home? I love traveling and seeing friends and family; I like the change of routine, the re-connecting and seeing new places. But coming home--there is nothing in my experience quite like it, even when the grass needs to be mowed, the gardens exploded and it's so hot I can hardly breathe. My dogs and cats coming to greet me, the familiar walk and porch, my favorite chair, my own pillow--you know what I mean.

And, it rained! I don't know when or how much, but it looks like it was enough to rejuvenate my plants and I am so grateful for that. The pumpkin vines have run amuck, the Bloody Butcher corn shot up, the tomatoes ripened, the cucumbers set many new fruits, and overall (except for the beans) the gardens look great. Even my little broccoli and cabbage seedlings doubled in size over the past 5 days. Amazing.

Tonight I've been catching up--checking the status of my eBay sales, packing Amazon book sales for shipment, reading Facebook and catching up on email while also unpacking my suitcase and re-packing my trunks for tomorrow's storytelling program in the southern part of the state.

I'm ready to go in the morning to do the last of the library summer reading programs. It will be sad to see these programs end. I've been telling stories for many cultures and it's been completely wonderful, from the response of the children to the stories to the traveling from one venue to another. Now I'm thinking about next year and how to approach the stories for the new theme. There is always a new challenge, and new stories, to be found in this work. It is never boring or routine.

I'm off to bed now but tomorrow evening I will try to post some photos of the latest travels. Larry and my brother-in-law Jackie attended the re-enactment for the 150th anniversary of the Battle of First Manassas over the weekend and came back with some great photos. I remember attending the 100th anniversary re-enactment! That makes a person feel like time is passing quickly!

Garden Update

What's going on in my gardens? Here's an update: 
I have no pics because I'm away from home right now. But I can tell you we've had better years. The gardens look good, especially considering we're at mid-July when the weeds are usually taking over. But production? Not so much.

I've canned about 20 quarts of beans and frozen five of the Roma Flat Beans because I like them better frozen. The bean plants look great but they're not setting on the beans like they usually do. It's a mystery. The potato vines were killed by the Colorado potato beetle and those bugs were even down in the soil, eating the potatoes! We tried hand-picking them, using wood ash on them, dusting with hydrated lime--nothing slowed them down. They moved from the potatoes all the way across the yard to the tomato patch and were even on my flowers. We finally gave in and bought some spray that killed them off before they killed the tomato plants too. Greedy little things.

The tomatoes are just starting to ripen. They have a lot of green ones on the vines, but they are not making much size because it is so dry and hot. Still, we're getting some tomatoes now and that's always exciting--first tomatoes, is there anything like them? The squash is producing like crazy. I've been cooking a lot of it, and this week I tried drying some. I don't like it frozen and canned is aawful. Years ago I dried it and it was great for soups, etc. Then recently I saw recipes for making dried squash "chips" that can be eaten for a snack. The recipes I saw called for coating the chips with olive oil, and one called for using some grated cheesse sprinkled on them too. I decided to just blanch them then sprinkle them lightly with salt and dry in the dehydrator. The result? They're more chewy than crispy, but they're very flavorful and I plan to make more because I like them very well as a snack. I may try the oil version, though, and see if those get crisp. This winter I'll be using them in soups as well.

The onions are pulled now and we replanted with carrots. We pulled the carrots recently and cut them up for the freezer. They did well, not as well as past years but given the weather I'm satisfied with the yield. The corn is just starting to come in and I am worried that the kernels will not fill out with ths heat and lack of rain. The melons look great so far, and the punpkin vines look vigorous. I have broccoli and Stonehead cabbage seeds started and hope to set gthem out for a fall crop in mid-August. I've also got lettuce seed waiting to go in as soon as the heat lets up, and spinach too. Turnip seeds are waiting for the potatoes to be dug, which should happen in the next couple weeks.

The herb garden is thriving, one bright spot in this mixed-bag of a garden season. Some of trhe basil is ready to harvest, as is the thyme, winter savory, rosemary and a few other things. The parsley I seeded last month is growing very well and I think I saw a few lavender seedlings too.

The peaches are ripening, but they are really small compared to past years. The blackberries pretty well burned up on their vines this year; we did get a nice bit of blueberries earlier on, and thank goodness I was able to make jeams in June because there won't be much to make it from the rest of the summer, from the look of things.

We cleaned out the root cellar this week (way late, I know) so that I could get a better idea of what we have and what we need. There is plenty of jams and jellies, so that's not a worry. Green beans are plentiful as well, as is the apple butter (we'll probably make more anyway), canned pears,beets and some kinds of pickles. I need more tomatoes, salsa (always!), dill pickles, and applesauce. In the freezer we need more corn, onions, celery (it's doing so-so in the garden), and blackberries if we can find any.

That about sums it up, I think. It's been a disappointing year, with too much rain in March, April and May, and too much heat and not enough rain in June and July. We'll still have plenty, and for that I'm thankful. But it's been a hard slog.

A Day of Stories and Memories

There are so many thoughts I want to write about tonight. Like the children at the storytelling today--all 130 of them listening,sharing, laughing, singing. The adults, listening and sharing too.

Or the heat that slams us in the face, unbelievably heat that I have not experienced in some time.

Or the librarian who works so hard, writes grants, coordinates, brings along her grandchildren, always looking for the best thing for the people in her community.

Or my friend who offered her cabin to stay in while I'm 200 miles from home, telling stories.

Or the evening spent with my friend and her husband and their friend as  they played bluegrass and old-time and I sang a few ballads.

Or the music of the tree frogs in the trees outside this cabin, after the sun went down.

Or the little girl who sang the Marine Corps anthem.

Or the convoy of military vehicles, filled with young soldiers in uniform that held up traffic, but no one blew their horns or seemed to care about a few lost moments.

Or the carnival set up in this blistering heat, yet filled with people willing to brave it for a little time with friends.

Or the people who came to listen to ghost stories in  a converted icehouse on a hot July night.

Or going into a Goodwill store all these miles from home and running into a friend who is also far from home, here for a family reunion.

Or the phone call from ny granddaughter, telling me they had picked 4 gallons of blackberries for me and what did I wnat them to do with them?

Or talking to Kermit, the man who raises the blackberries and wishing I could mdeet him in person.

Or knowing my son the Sergeant Major will be gone on another trip before I can get home to say goodbye again--but he picked the blackberries before he left.

Or my daughter-in-law and granddaughters who are traveling in Ireland, listening to Irish music and perhaps finding new stories of their own.


It's been an interesting day, filled with memories I've filed away for future remembering pleasure. It has been a day that reinforces what I'm doing and why.

(Forgive the typos. I am not so good on this laptop)

Stories in Stone: Old Glenville Cemetery

 It's a quiet, small cemetery, riding the crests of small ridges on the campus of Glenville State College. Yet among its inhabitants are two who died untimely deaths:

What I know: his father Herbert was a World War I veteran who died in Martinsburg, West Virginia in 1958--perhaps at the veteran's hospital? His mother was Elva Turner Brannon who passed away in 1955. They are buried at the Brannon Cemetery in Minnora, WV. Their son Robert is buried at the Old Glenville Cemetery on the grounds of Glenville State College. What I don't know: how did he die? who killed him and why? There is a story here, a sad one, I am sure, but for now this is all I know of Robert Lee Brannon.  There must be more to learn.

 Quiet graves among the trees,

and a stone that marks the passing of one un-named.

The grave of Sarah "Sis" Linn, who was murdered not far from this spot in 1919.

Grave marker of the parents of Sis Linn, the ghost of Glenville State.

Sophronia Linn, Sis Linn's mother, and Robert, her father, are resting close by their daughter's grave.

Wordless Wednesday: Hundred to Cameron and Mannington

Some of my favorite photos from my trip to the northern panhandle of West Virginia:

Littleton, WV:

 I think this used to be a boarding house, perhaps?

 Probably a bank building at one time, with buildings to either side. Now it stands alone and empty.

 The old bus station at Littleton.

 Rounding a curve on the way to Cameron.

 The restoration project at Cameron. The depot will be lovely when completed.

 Abandoned bridge at Hundred, WV,

 and a covered bridge still in daily use, also in Hundred.

 The Round Barn near Mannington, WV.

Inside the barn. It's a museum now, and was closed when I was there. I got this shot by pressing the camera lens to the window glass.

An old school building, re-purposed as a youth center, in Mannington. I think there must have been a turret on top of the clock tower at one time. The clock still chimes the hour. I wonder how long the city will be able to keep up with this amazing building--it must be costly to maintain. What a treasure, though.


There were many more photos to share. I will try to post more tomorrow.

The Storyteller's Work

Before a recent performance, someone asked me, "How do you learn your stories? Do you just read them in a book and then tell them?"

How simple it would be if that were the case. Developing a story for performance takes time, research, thought, practice and a bit of luck.

Finding a story is not as easy as it may sound. I'll use this summer's library reading theme as an example. One would think that "One World, Many Stories" would be a piece of cake for a storyteller, right? And it is, in a sense. There are so many stories to choose from! Where to start? A teller could pick one country and develop a program on that country's stories. Or pick a continent, and tell stories from that continent. Maybe just pick one story from each country, or each continent? Focus on bi-lingual stories? Stories about animals, or about peace? Environmental stories from around the world? True stories of immigrants to the US? Where to start, and what to choose?

Once a focus is found--let's say, the teller chooses to tell one story from each continent--then it's time to track down the stories. And further refine the focus in the process. After all, many continents have more than one country! Which to choose? Then it's time to hit the resources to find the stories. Most storytellers have extensive personal libraries; almost all know many online sources for stories. We have to be careful about copyright, too--stories need to be in the public domain, be original versions of a traditional tale, or we need to have permission from the publisher or author to tell the story. That could involve the payment of royalties.

The work is not finished yet, though. The story may be selected but how to arrange it for telling? Will I tell it as found? Rarely does that happen! Or will I change it in some way so that it works better for my style of telling? When I'm telling with children, for example, I include participation whenever possible--a chant, song, repetition, parts for someone to play, maybe puppets or other props. I will read the stories looking for those kinds of telling opportunities if I need stories for young audiences. Subject matter is important--it is a topic they will understand or be interested in? What would I need to say to introduce the story? What vocabulary might need to be changed? Is the story too long, or too short? How can I modify it and still retain the original intent or the story--or should I modify it at all? How will this story fit with the program as a whole and with the other stories I've chosen to tell?

These are just some of the questions that went through my mind as I researched stories for my summer reading programs for this year. Different programs will have different questions. A ghost stories program may have me asking, for example, is the time/place accurate? Is this fakelore (made up folklore)? An urban legend? Are there other versions of the story available?

Once I'm satisfied that the story is one I want to learn, I begin the process of learning to tell it. I do not memorize stories; I learn their "bones," the basic plot, main characters, setting, etc. Then I try describing the story to my husband, or maybe just to myself to see if I have the hang of it and if it's really interesting. After that I try telling it, practicing until I have the story in the form I want it. If it's for children, I may check my stock of puppets and props to see if I want to use any of them; I may work on a repetitive verse or song to add to the story, or I may find a song that works well to introduce or follow the story. I might want to use other props, too--"skinning board" might not a term that is familiar to all children, so I might want to bring one to show them. With this summer's stories, I have brought a wide variety of items from my personal collection of world artifacts--matryoshka dolls, kokeshi dolls, rainsticks, flags, etc.--that add interest to the program. The kids have enjoyed seeing and discussing all of these things and I believe it has enriched the experience for them.

In performance, things can happen that change a story for the better. In one of the stories for this summer, there is a chant as the animals "run for their lives." I had the children walking (with their animal puppets) in a small circle in front of the room. At one program, however, a little girl with the lead animal led the group all the way around the audience as the audience chanted "run for your life." It was so much fun that at all future programs I've had the children circle the audience if possible. At another, when the lion in the story snored, a little one piped up, "That's how my grandpa sounds when he's sleeping." After that, I've asked the children to make the sound of their grandfather sleeping. There are some real snorers out there, it seems!

Sometimes a turn of phrase works so well that I store it away to use in that story in the future. I may find that a longer pause works well in a story, or changing the tempo. Always there is room for change and improvement. Working with children in participation stories can be like improv as the kids will say completely unexpected things, refuse to say anything at all, or want to take the story in a new direction. I have to be quick on my feet to keep the story on track while still enjoying and acknowledging their surprising additions to the telling. In adult audiences there are occasionally those who don't understand storytelling is about listening and want to talk to me while I'm telling, or there are (rarely, thank goodness) hecklers who can make a performance real work. It's all part of the job, and a teller has to be mentally nimble to field all of it as it comes. Unlike theater, most storytelling is not a carved-in-stone script and there is no director to keep things moving right. The storyteller manages it all alone.

Once a program is developed and performed a few times, I evaluate. I take some things out, add some, tweaking here and there to get it right. A program is never really carved in stone; new things are added, others removed, wording is changed depending on the age/understanding level of he audience...there are many variables constantly in play.

So when someone asks me, "How do you learn to tell a story?" I might just be at a loss for words.  Maybe I should just direct them to this post. Or maybe I should just say, "Do you really want to know? Sit down. This might take a while."

A Story Old, and Stories New

Yesterday was a storied day. Stories in an auditorium, stories 3 floors up (and no elevator), stories in a gazebo as the evening settled in--little people, seniors, parents and teens and joining in on chants and songs, many hands raised to participate and help tell the stories. Peacocks, dragons, lions, kings, kokeshi and matryoshka, maracas, mbira, and stories, stories, stories filled the day.

Back roads,

high ridges,

abandoned buildings

 

and struggling towns,

friendly, helpful librarians, incredible cheesecake at a small town restaurant, sweat, heat, thunderous storms and rain-lashed interstate, drilling rigs, oil leases, lush vegetable gardens--it was a day of visual and sensory variety, one of those road trips that has its own special atmosphere, in  an area where the sense of place cannot be denied.


Northern West Virginia has had many economic  ups and downs: the rush of the oil and gas boom in the early 1900's, the rush to industrialization with steel mills and glass factories, the exodus of people after World War II when men saw there were other places with more opportunities for their families, the downward spiral as West Virginia was bypassed by interstates and businesses relocated to places with better access, the struggle to retain the remaining factories and workers, the coming of Chinese steel and the loss of more jobs, and now a second drilling boom as the Marcellus gas field is being developed. Some things remain the same, like growing vegetable gardens to provide for one's family, church, and for those who continue to live here, holding on to home and all that it means to West Virginians. They preserve what they can--a railroad depot, a round barn or former school--so that future generations will know who they were and what was once here.

Many of the jobs for this new boom in the gasfields are held by people from out-of-state, just as happened in the first boom. The difference this time is that there are local people in need of the work, while in the 1900's boom the local population was scarce and most owned farms that keep them employed (although many left the farms for the more lucrative work in the oilfields). The Wheeling newspaper has a long list of new oil leases on its front page, so similar to the Oil Review that was published in Sistersville in the early 1900's, where drilling activity was the main trust of the daily news--and the activity was extensive, covering several columns each day.

Even with this boom and the income being generated, it will take a while for the impact to be felt. Not everyone benefits, of course--those with mineral rights to lease and many businesses are seeing revenue flow, but others can only watch the trucks passing by and continue to find their livelihood elsewhere. Town and county leaders, I am sure, are looking for ways to protect their communities' interests and environment while still reaping some economic benefit from this whirlwind that will not last forever. Like many, I worry about what the hydrological fracturing is doing to the land and water. The process involved setting off nitroglycerin charges deep beneath the surface, to "frac" the rock so that oil or natural gas can seep into the wells and be extracted. This may well be yet another instance where West Virginia is the source for the wealth of those outside its borders as another extractive industry takes our natural resources and leaves behind a damaged land--like the coal and timbering industry did in the past, and as coal continues to do today.

Some towns have found a way to thrive without reliance on the drilling boom. Small manufacturing and retail businesses have surfaced; some residents are commuting to Pittsburgh, Morgantown or Fairmont where the jobs picture is bright and opportunities are available for those willing to drive.  Commuting may not be an ideal solution but it will keep some places going as they rebuild to meet new realities.

Storytelling seems a simple pursuit in the midst of such economic complexity. And yet, as everywhere, people in this region too were ready to hear stories. We journeyed together through tales from many lands--India, China, Japan, Africa, South America and Mexico, sharing songs and laughter and magic. One young man of fourteen helped me load my car, talking almost non-stop about the stories we had told that morning. He said, "It's a special day when you get to help your favorite storyteller!" He remembered when I came to his library almost ten years ago, and the stories I told then. At another library, the librarian said, "This has been wonderful. I'm just sorry we didn't have you here before now." Music to the storyteller's ear, and a reminder to keep finding stories and songs that others will want to hear, that might have meaning for someone who needed just that story, just that song.

I left at 6:30 in the morning, before the sun was full risen. I drove home in the dark through thunderous rains and lightning, often able to drive only 30 miles an hour and struggling to see the lines on the road. (We need the rain, but maybe not so much at one time.) When I finally turned onto my road at 10:00 pm it was a relief to see we had gotten only light showers and not the damaging downpours. As I drifted off to sleep, my mind was on those children and adults who came out on such a hot, humid day to listen to stories. I will never get over my amazement that people come to listen. I will never stop being inspired and motivated by faces looking up expectantly as the stories begin.

The Impermanence of Things

I could not believe it. Someone was tearing it down.

I had always meant to take a picture of it; I like old barns and this one had character, a history that almost shouted from its worn boards. Now it was being disassembled, all its skeletons exposed to the curious eye. I know it was a little saggy here and there and some beams that might not have been trustworthy--or maybe one of those companies that take down old barns to sell their wood to city folks for paneling made an offer that was too good to refuse?

I know wood buildings can't last forever. This one, with its faded Mail Pouch sign and rustic gate, was a sight for eyes jaded by more modern metal buildings. As more old barns get left behind--roofs blowing off, doors gapping open, weeds growing up around them--I feel like holding my breath, knowing that an era is passing and most of us are too busy to see it. The big wood barns that held tons of hay in their mows, housed cattle, pigs and horses at night, those barns are becoming a thing of the past, at least in this part of America. They are being replaced by round bales in the fields and metal equipment sheds. The death of small dairies hastened their demise; the milkhouses stand empty with broken windows or have been converted to other uses. A time is passing, and we are the witnesses.

So mourn with me for a little bit for the loss of this one barn. The owner I am sure was glad to see it go--he cleaned up the site very nicely as I saw yesterday when I passed by. Now I have one less landmark on my journeys into central West Virginia, one less reminder of how life was once on these quiet farms. I may well be the only one, but I will miss it.

The Winner of the Coffee Test

A few weeks ago I wrote about my efforts to find a way to make good coffee without an electric drip pot.

We tried a Porcelier, a porcelain drip pot made in the 1930's-1940's, a big aluminum drip pot that makes 18 cups, a stainless steel drip pot because we wanted to be able to keep the coffee warm on the gas stove, and a plastic drip funnel with mesh filter.


The winner is: the Porcelier!

 

Here is the winning combination: 

•  Decaf Eight O'Clock beans: I had to order these on Amazon because I could not find decaf beans in our stores here. We went to decaf when my blood pressure got a little higher than normal and honestly I can't tell the difference.

• My old coffee grinder: I have an electric one but the goal is coffee without electricity. We used this one for years and it does a perfect job. 40-50 turns of the handle (less than a minute) and you have enough for a pot. The pre-packaged ground decaf was too fine to work properly with the Porcelier. The hand-cranked grinder can be adjusted and the coffee brews beautifully and fast.

• The Porcelier drip pot: This top part of the pot comes off. It has small drip holes in its bottom, and there is another interior lid. You put the coffee in, then put on the interior lid. This lid also has drip holes in it. Then you boil water in a kettle and pour it into the top section. The water filters down through the drip holes in the interior lid, through the coffee and out the bottom drip holes into the pot. 

We found the Porcelier at a local junk shop for $14.95, I think it was. The coffee has to be tasted to be believed. It is just delicious.

The only downside: now we make more coffee so we're spending more! Where a a 3-lb can would last a month or more, now we've used 3 bags of beans in less than a month. Ah me. I guess my next quest is a cheaper source of decaf coffee beans.

Wordless Wednesday: Revisiting the 4th

Some memories of this year's 4th of July celebration in Ripley:

At the  Downtowner Restaurant:

Great-granddaughter Cadyn shares a special moment with her grandmother, Jennifer.

Jared meets the Governor of WV,

and Cadyn does too!

Three of our family's runners in Firecracker Run:

George, my oldest son (#247 above) came in first of our family group. This was my niece Amanda's (#263) first race. Derek (#262)was happy to cross the line ahead of his two oldest children:

Haley (in b&w striped top) was ahead of Jared (#118) as they neared the finish, but he poured it on and passed her at the wire. Nothing competitive about these two! Haley finished 2nd in her class (15-19 year-olds, she's 15). She was the only one of our family to place this year, but everyone did well.

After the race and the parade I found this group playing and singing. I stopped to listen and join in on a few songs:

We gathered at Derek's for a cookout later on, to christen the new patio he built with huge cut stones, brick and fieldstone. It is beautiful--I need to take some photos to share here. Some went back into town for the fireworks, but I was happy on the patio by the fire. It was a perfect, laid-back family 4th--the only bad part is that we have to wait another year for the next one.

A Random Collection of Housekeeping Things

I've been collecting these tidbits to post at some time or other, so today is the day.

First, for all you canners out there: Lehman's Hardware in Kidron, Ohio sells canning jar lids in bulk. A sleeve of them contains 354 lids, and it's $42.95 plus shipping (I think my total was about $55.00). This is just lids, not the rings. It's a little cheaper than I pay at the store, and a lot more convenient to have all the lids I need right here and not have to worry about not having them when I need them. I think one sleeve will last me through the canning season. They also sell reusable lids (who knew there were such things!) and the old kind that use the rubber gasket, along with all sorts of other useful canning and homesteading supplies. Their specialty is non-electric items, since they are in the heart of Ohio's Amish country.

Did you know you can buy USPS postage through Paypal? It's a lot easier than the USPS website, friends! And so simple to pay too. You need a Paypal account, of course, and it's not easy to find the service on their site, but this link will get you there. I buy online postage for my sales on Amazon and eBay but sometimes I need to buy it for other things I'm shipping and this Paypal service saves me a trip to the post office.

I am drying my peppermint and other herbs for teas and wanted to make them into teabags to share with friends. I looked online for resealable teabags and most were just too expensive--might as well just buy the tea. But at San Francisco Herb Company you can get 50 of them for $2.12. The rub is that you must order at least $30 worth of stuff from them--which isn't hard to do considering their prices and the items they offer for sale. I used to buy from them years ago and forgot them when I went to work. It's nice to reconnect with such a good company. They offer bottles, bags, herbs, dried foods, teas, and all sorts of other interesting things.

A couple of things for general household cleaning:

Put a bay leaf in your flour and dried grains to keep the miller moths out. I've been battling them for the past year and I think I have finally won. All it takes is one item that gets infested with them and you're sunk. They get into dried beans, rice, flour, oats..even baking chocolate and your garden seeds! I took most items out of the cabinet and put them in the fridge, cleaned the cabinet and waited. The moths were still there. I eventually located the source of the trouble--dried apple and orange garlands I had stored in another cabinet. Who would have thought? Then I remembered my mother's trick with the bay leaves. I scattered them throughout my cabinet and tucked them into the jars of flour and oats. No more problems...at least, not for the past 3 months.

My granddaughter taught me this trick: if you have a pan with really stuck-on cooking (like cheese, gravy, meat drippings, etc), fill the pan with soapy dishwater and put it on the stove to boil. Once it's boiling, use a spoon or spatula to scrape off the stuck stuff--it will come right off. Amazing. It took me 60 years to find out about this trick!

Make your own window cleaner with Dawn dish detergent, ammonia and water. This is what the commercial companies use and it doesn't need to be wiped down after cleaning like Windex does. You can adjust the ingredients to get the kind of sudsing you want. Or you can visit Tipnut.com for a lot of ways to make window cleaner, mostly with things you already have on hand.

Got a jar with a stuck lid? Try running very hot water over the lid--often the contents in the jar are sticky and the hot water will soften the sugars enough to let you remove the lid. If it's a two-piece canning jar lid and that doesn't work, take a table knife and run the blade under the top lip of the jar (the place where the ring seats on top of the flat lid). Dampness can cause the ring to rust to the lid and you can break the rust loose this way. The ring, however, might be ruined because it might not seat properly on the lid again. But it beats throwign away a whole jar of something you worked hard to put up.

That's my list for today. Do any of you have little tricks you'd like to share? I am betting you do!

Weekend Thoughts

Sometimes we have days that make us reflect on our lives, call into question where we have been and where we want to go. Sometimes we have days that call back the past, or put us too much in the present. Sometimes we have days that feel like we're treading water and trying to breathe through a vapor cloud.

That about sums up this weekend. Visiting good friends in the hospital will make you think. Because, you know, they're about the same age, a little younger actually, than I am. Nothing in their own actions put them in a hospital bed yet there they were, struck down by surprise. I was glad to be able to see for myself how they were getting on. I was forcibly reminded of the caprice of life, that we cannot take any moment for granted. All the to-do lists in the world can't trump fate, or God's will, or whatever you want to call it. We can plan, scheme, work, devise, but in the end how much control do we really have? It's the luck of the draw.

That was Stage 1 of the emotional roller coaster of the weekend.


Stage 2: Wake and wake-up call. Belvie was 95. She taught me so many things about living in the country, and especially about living in the country without electricity. Her common sense and work ethic were my inspiration. I wanted to be just like her. She taught me to make apple butter, render lard, cut up a hog, make headcheese and mincemeat and relish and Lord only knows what else. I remember her strong voice, straight talk and her lively sense of humor. My regret: I did not go to see her after she moved away from Joe's Run to live nearer to one of her sons. Time, you know. That to-do list. I always thought I'd have time "later." For 15 years I thought that. What a fool I can be. So I missed my chance to spend time with her in her last years, I missed hearing her laugh and tell her stories, and it was my own fault because I was...too busy. Belvie had a good life, a full life, and I know she passed on with no regrets to be leaving. The regrets are with those who are like me, realizing too late what we missed. And no one to blame but ourselves.

Stage 3: Which led to me stopping on the way home from the wake to visit an 89-year-old neighbor. She didn't recognize me and took me for someone 20 years younger--a real compliment! I had not stopped to visit her in years either. Imagine sitting on the porch of a quaint (there is really no other word for it) farmhouse at the base of a steep hill and just...talking. Remembering. She told me about how she shot a snake out of the tree in front of her house because it was after the baby birds. We watched the hummingbirds dart in and out of the feeder as she told me about her growing-up years. Stories, bits and pieces of the past. It takes time to hear such tales, time sitting in a porch glider and watching the hummingbirds.

Stage 4: The funeral was a celebration of a life well-lived and a woman well-loved and respected. I was glad to be there, but still sorrowing for those missed years. We did not go to the grave; there were many family there, and that was their time. I will go sometime this week, to the site she picked because it looked over her home.

I had plans to get so many things done. In the end, the important things were done. The rest can wait. 

Looking Ahead

Just for a day or two, though:

Going to see my friend Adam Booth tell stories today in Ripley and Ravenswood as part of the Stories at the River's Edge series developed by my friend Donna Wilson and me, and funded in part by a grant from ORBI.

Larry is finally going to start hooking up the gas water heater. I can tell he really doesn't want to do it, he's put it off so long! Wish him luck.

Waiting for news about the wake for my elderly friend Belva, and about funeral arrangements.

Trip to Charleston to visit my storytelling friend Karen in the hospital, and try to go to Huntington, too, to visit my other storytelling friend Keith in the hospital there.

Maybe go to open mic tonight in Charleston?

Go to ReStore in Charleston and look for a window (but that would mean unloading all the storytelling stuff in the car--do I really want to do that? Hmmm.)

Get the paperwork caught up.

Pick and can beans.

Go to John Henry Festival in Talcott, WV, and open mic at Chestnut Revival in Hinton, just up the road from the festival.

Get ready for storytelling trip on Monday, to Sistersville and  St. Mary's.

Wait for news about granddaughter Cassidy's trip to New York City today to meet with someone from Atlantic Records. They liked an original song she sent them and called her the next day. (Insert proud granny grin!). Keep your fingers crossed for her.

That should be enough to keep me busy for a few days. I don't expect to do it all. These are the things I want/need to do. Some will fall off the list as the priorities rise to the surface. So many choices, so little time.

Stories, Life and Loss

It has been a roller coaster day. Here's a quick look at how it was:

Today's storytelling in Athens and Pomeroy, Ohio was a great experience. This year's summer reading theme selected by libraries has been so much fun--One World, Many Stories has so many possibilities that a storyteller is almost overwhelmed by the choices. I put together a program of highly participatory stories so that children (and adults) in the audience could be part of the telling. It has been a wild trip with many funny moments, surprising performances and new insights into the stories as they have unfolded in each venue.

I am often surprised by the abilities of those who help me tell the stories. Today, for example, a small Japanese girl who could not have been more that 3 or 4 years old performed spectacularly in the Mexican story "La Hormiguita," (you can hear a musical version of this folktale here) saying her part clearly and loudly. Often such young children are shy about taking part in a story, but this little one was perfect for her part. All of the children at both libraries were lively participants and we had a lot of blast with stories from Africa, Japan, China, and Chile too. As always, I brought a display of items from around the world, collected over the years because I just like such things. :) 

Another fun part of today's programs was my friend and storyteller Donna Wilson, who took on the part of the "Knee High Man" (read a short version of this traditional southern USA story here) and did an outstanding job of making that story come to life. And other adults helped by joining in on the participation lines and songs and by taking rhythm instruments for the final song of the program. It was a magical day, with stories creating communities from groups of strangers--just as stories always do.

On my way home, I stopped into a Goodwill store just to see, you know, what they might have. I came out with dishes marked Habsburg, Austria, some Depression-era serving dishes, some German plates, Imperial glass salt and peppers, a handmade egg basket and several other great finds--many of which will end up on eBay sometime in the future. Best find? I think it might be a matted and framed print of the children's classic story "Rainbow Fish" which is going into the Christmas gift basket for a certain children's librarian friend. You never know what might be found at Goodwill.

The sad notes for the day: a storytelling friend was struck by a car yesterday and remains in the hospital with a fractured skull; another storytelling friend remains in the hospital following a stroke two weeks ago; and my good neighbor and country-living mentor Belva Simons passed away today as I was driving to the nursing home to visit her. In the midst of life there is pain, struggle, and death. And yet we soldier on, taking joy where we can find it, even if it is only in a story shared with children. I send prayers for my friends and their families on this July night, and I wish you all comfort, peace and the love of your family to help you through such vales of sadness.

On the Storytelling Trail, and on the Trail of a Story

I am still catching up on things I want to post! I hope all my US friends had an awesome 4th of July, and all of you in Canada enjoyed your Canada Day celebrations. Brits, is there a celebration in your country at this time of year? I can't remember my mother celebrating anything in July.

Last week I was off storytelling again on Tuesday, up into West Virginia's Northern Panhandle. Our stops were Wheeling and Paden City this time, with an overnight stay in Sistersville at the Wells Inn. If you've been reading here for a while, you know I love the Wells, and now I have a project in development connected to the hotel. More about that later.

My youngest son's former girl friend, who remains a good friend of his, is now living in Wheeling so we got in touch to see if she was free for a visit while we were in town. She was and we did! We met at the renowned Coleman's Fish Market in the historic Centre Market area of Wheeling. According to the City of Wheeling's website,  

"The Iron Market House opened for business on September 27, 1853 to serve as the central agricultural market business district for the City of Wheeling, WV.  The Greek Revival structure was designed by Thomas Pope as an open air market. The structural cast iron Doric columns were produced by the Wheeling foundry of Hamilton and Rodgers. The Iron Market House is the oldest iron market house in the United States.  Given the growth the Centre Market area experienced through the mid to late 1800’s an additional market area was developed. The Lower Market House was completed in 1891 and designed by Wheeling architect Edward B. Franzheim." City of Wheeling .

The area is crowded with antique shops, a book store and other interesting shops. I didn't take nearly as many photos as I wanted to because we were a little limited on time and my camera batteries were dying. Which means a return trip, right? We stopped in this shop to look around:

Clocks! Lots and lots of clocks! And I learned that there is a clock repair guy upstairs--so I may be taking my two old watches to him sometime soon to see if he can fix them. Clock repair is becoming a dying art, it seems.

Next stop (after passing this intriguing doorway):

Boy, I wanted to just nose around in there. But we were headed here:

Anastasia was way ahead of me, going in the door as I stopped to snap this shot. Coleman's is famous for their fish sandwich. It's simplicity itself--two slices of white bread with two big hunks of deep-fried fish in between. Sound appetizing? healthy? Well, maybe not so much, but delicious? Absolutely. The fish is fresh and full of flavor that just bursts in your mouth, surrounded by the crunchy breading and soft white bread. No sauce, no butter, no nothing. Amazing. I had one once before when a friend introduced me to Coleman's and I've wanted to go back ever since. Be warned, though, if you decide to go: they don't take credit or debit cards. They have an ATM that gives you coupons, not cash, which you can use in the Market--odd, but I guess it works for them.

Across the street from the fish market was this interesting shopfront:

but it was closed (insert sad face). However (insert happy face) across the street we found the Paradox Book store:

Books were even outside in the store's entryway--you could take one for free when they were closed, just bring a trade when you could. How neat is that?

I found a five-year diary in this shop from the years 1936-1938, kept by a teenage boy who lived in Wellsburg, just up the river from Wheeling. His entries were sporadic but revealing--many noted floods coming and going, the preparations made for them and the cleanup afterwards. Floods seemed to be part of life, as routine as the weather. He also discussed trips he took to Pittsburgh to see the Ice Follies, to Cleveland to see the Great Lakes Exposition, to shows in Wheeling and other places. They evidently traveled a lot more than I would have thought; the Depression was still in force, after all, and I would have thought people were limited as far as traveling and going to shows, etc. Apparently this family was well-to-do enough that they were able to do such things, and even bought a new Buick in 1938. The young man also wrote four brief posts about his father in 1936: his father had an earache, seemed to improve, got seriously ill and died five days later of spinal meningitis. The brief entries in this diary are heart-touching and real. Through it all, life continued, and it seems the family managed to prosper despite its tragedies.

My storytelling event that evening was in Wheeling's City Park, a beautiful, well-maintained facility east of the city's center. There was an excellent turnout of mostly very young children and parents and even though the day was very hot, we were cool enough in the shelter. The librarians at Wheeling's Main Library planned well and the even went without a hitch--the children were roasting marshmallows over the fire as we packed to leave.

As we left Wheeling, the skies opened up. Tremendous displays of lightning lit the skies and the rain poured as we snaked our way down Route 2 to the Wells Inn. I had hoped to be able to do some night-time rambles around the town, getting a sense of its history and atmosphere but the weather canceled that idea. So we stayed in our room and watched the light show outside from the vintage comfort of the old inn:

Our room featured a beautiful iron bedstead, and blue paint around the window and doorframes, so we could feel safe from evil spirits (insert glance over shoulder).

(The room really didn't look as spooky as this photo makes it--that's the light from the television.)

I stood gazing out at the rain and thinking about this little town that once had a population to rival the biggest cities in the state. What stories did the town's history hold? Next day, I began my research to find out just that.

Because, you see, that is my new project. I am working on developing a ghost stories tour of Sistersville after the owner of the Wells Inn suggested it. I think it's a very good idea. In an oil boom town such as Sistersville was, certainly there are plenty of stories to be found. I went to the library the next day and began looking through old microfilm newspapers, seeking stories of strange, unexplained events. I have now logged 8 hours of reading and have only completed one year's worth of newspapers. Even so, I have found stories--funny, strange, sad, happy and everything in between. It's the tip of the iceberg.

Before we left the next day we found the oldest cemetery in the town, the resting place of the founder, Charles Wells, and his family. I will post photos tomorrow of the cemetery; it's well worth a visit should you happen to be in the area.

So now I have caught you up with our doings up until last Tuesday! Maybe one day I will get caught up--do you think it's possible?

Kids' Day

Everyone else celebrated the 4th of July. We celebrated Kids' Day. My mother said, "There's a Father's Day and a Mother's Day, so there should be a Kids' Day too." My father usually added in a fake grumpy voice, "Humph! Every day is Kids' Day if you ask me!"

There could be another reason why my parents decreed it Kids' Day. All of us in the US know that this is the day the Declaration of Independence was signed. Independence from England. My mother was English. She didn't see a need to celebrate. So perhaps Kids' Day was a compromise, a peace agreement between my very patriotic Dad and my very British mother (who never did become a US citizen)?

Whatever the real reason, Kids' Day was an event we looked forward to all year. It was almost better than Christmas. Definitely better than Easter, better than our birthdays; every other holiday paled in significance too.




The day before we prepared. Mm packed the picnic things and Dad went to Manassas Ice and Fuel Company and bought big blocks of ice. I remember the man loading the ice into our car with big ice tongs. At home, Dad put the ice into sawdust to keep it from melting until we were ready to use it the next day.

July 4th started early with a breakfast picnic at the Manassas Battlefield Park. A breakfast picnic was a real treat--the park would be empty, no other visitors in sight so we could run, shout and play as much as we wanted. The morning mist rising from the ground was cooling and made the woods magical. The smell of bacon frying over a wood fire--well, you can imagine that yourself.


After breakfast we headed home to prepare for the evening cookout. I don't recall eating lunch on Kids' Day, probably because breakfast was so substantial. Dad would get his ice pick and chip the ice blocks into big round galvanized tubs. Many cans of pop (we called it soda in Manassas) were shoved down into the ice to cool. We didn't have pop at any other time of year, so this was a real treat. My favorite was cream soda. Man, I can taste that ice-cold, creamy-smooth, bubbly pop even now. Another block was chipped into another washtub; this was to cool the watermelon. The melons were huge, long and pale green with a few darker green specks.

The cookout started around 4 in the afternoon. Hot dogs were the usual fare; we might have had hamburgers but I do not remember them, and it seems to me that the cost of feeding hamburgers to 13 children and assorted neighbors would have been pretty high. Maybe in later years we had hamburgers but I don't remember them at all. What I remember are hot dogs, with ketchup and mustard. And pork 'n' beans. And macaroni salad with celery seeds and chopped celery and lots of mayonnaise. And Mom's yellow potato salad. And all the pop I wanted to drink. When the cream soda was gone, I moved on to root beer. Or to black cherry. The choices seemed endless.The watermelon was the piece de resistance. Icy cold and sliced in long wedges, the sweet juice would run down our chins, soak our shirts and leave us in sugar shock.

As the sun set and the fire burned down to embers (we cooked on wood, not charcoal) Dad would get the marshmallows and the roasting sticks. It didn't take long for the whole bag to disappear and we added charred sticky bits to the watermelon juice dried on our faces.

Last of all were the fireworks and sparklers. We didn't have anything fancy, just a few Roman candles and a few snakes, usually. But we always had plenty of sparklers and we lit up the neighborhood with their fiery brilliance. When the sparklers were gone, Dad added wood to the fire and we gathered around to sing, remember the funny things that happened that day or on other Kids' Day, and watch the stars pop out in the sky.

Kids' Day was over. It would be another year before it came again, another year before the pop flowed freely and the melon was plentiful.

It was our way of celebrating our nation's birth, and simple as it was those days remain in my memory as some of the best of my childhood. Maybe we should consider creating an official Kids' Day in the US. But nowadays, would those simple pleasures mean anything? Maybe it's best to leave it to memory and be grateful that my parents with their limited resources found a way to make this day something that would live on as a happy memory for their children, even 50 years later.

Memories of FestivALL

You know from my last post that we had to make a mad dash to get to Charleston for FestivALL and my time slot at the WV Writers' table. What is FestivALL? It's a two-week city-wide celebration of the arts. Plays, music, art installations, art shows, participatory art, dancing, sculpture--you name it, it is part of FestivALL.

This year the WV Writers decided to provide the beginning line of a story and let festival-goers add lines to the tale. We asked writers to submit ideas for the first line, and then let them vote on the best one to use for this project. A table was set up outside of Taylor Books, and independent bookstore (and way cool place); we provided a large flipchart and markers; the public provided the creativity. You can read the results here. We had the opportunity to talk to many people, give out brochures and tell people about our statewide organization.

I was scheduled to be at the table from 3-5pm. I got there (red-faced) about 10 after 3, which was pretty good, considering we had to get through a parade in Hillsboro, follow a tractor near Lewisburg and wait in long lines at the toll booths on the WV Turnpike. Nice thing about writers--they're a flexible lot! I settled in to see how the story would progress. And while talking to people and encouraging them to write, I saw the passing of many an interesting character:

Here Susan Nicholas talks with Barbara Bisby and poet Anita Skeens as as man in kilt and tennies passes by.

Can you walk on stilts and juggle at the same time? This guy made it look easy. 

Puppy Taxi?

Belly dancing, complete with antlers.

After we closed up our table, Larry and I cruised the craft tents. The variety of beautiful handcrafted items was amazing. This lady had tie-dyed clothing for sale, and she even had something in my size! A new storytelling dress now hangs in my closet. Happy birthday to me!

Last on our agenda for the day: the drum circle. We found out about it just before it was scheduled so we stayed to take part. If you have never experienced a drum circle I encourage you to give it a try. People of all ages, races, backgrounds joined together to drum shake rhythm instruments, dance and even sing. In all over 100 people took part. It was relaxing and peaceful. 

Children danced with gauzy scarves and several adults joined them. The look of amazement on the faces of those passing by was quite something! And they almost all joined in the fun. The organizers had many instruments available and readily handed them out to anyone who wanted to play. I learned that there is a circle that meets monthly in Charleston and it's on my calendar for August.

We stopped for dinner at the Vandalia Lounge: we were hot and tired and the sign outside said "Cold Beer and Wine." We ordered their Nero Salad, a spicy chicken salad that was the perfect meal for the end of a long day that included only peanut butter sandwiches for meals--it's what we got for staying up all night and sleeping too long!

We only experienced a small part of FestivALL this year. The event keeps growing and getting better and next year I look forward to spending a little more time exploring all it has to offer.