Just for Fun

I had to share this photo with you.

I buy a lot of odd things to re-sell; one thing I have noticed is that large-size clothing for men or women sells well. So when I see something with new tags on it at a thrift, I usually look at it--and often buy, like these men's jeans. these are a size 66 waist, by 38 inseam.

A little large for Larry, I think.

Not sold yet, but you never know!


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

In the Gardens

We were up and out early this morning to re-plant some areas of our gardens.

This is the walled garden, and it's been kind of disappointing this year. I put my summer squash in here along with some early cucumbers. The cucumbers are finally coming along, but so far we've had only 3 or 4 squash. Still, I love this little space, and the early lettuce, onions and radishes did well. I'll be replanting them in the raised bed in September.

This is the garden we worked in this morning.

Otis had to get his tail into the photo. After all, he was up and out with us!

It was lovely and cool out, with low humidity and the sun just beginning to creep across the hill. Larry pulled out spent plants and tilled the ground up yesterday, so this morning's work was easy, just make the furrows and plant. We put in some late green beans, beets, carrots, radishes, lettuce, and kale this morning, and I have cabbage seed on the way--hoping to grow some plants for late cabbage. We shall see how that goes. Larry put in some squash and cucumbers last week and those are up and growing.

Our other helper, Miss Daisy Mae. They are so curious about anything we do outside, but they do NOT like the electric fence!

We don't have the best luck with late gardens--often the deer get in and decimate it, or the weeds take over. But I'm hopeful that this time it will thrive, as the soil is in good condition, the weeds are under control and the electric fence and Irish Spring soap seem to be doing their job as critter deterrents. I also bought some garden netting to put over the plants if we see any sign of deer damage. They ate one of my hydrangeas and some hostas and coneflowers last week. Grrrr.

The flowers are holding up pretty well so far. These are in a pot on the deck.

And these are out by the patio. I don't know what they are; I bought them at Walmart in the spring and all I remember is that they're tropical and don't like weather under 50 degrees. They bloom and bloom, and are so pretty. Oddly, the hummingbirds don't pay any attention to them.

Begonias are one of my favorites, right up there with geraniums for pot plants. They bloom constantly and need little care. I usually bring some inside for the winter.

This giant coleus seems to love the old cast iron pot it's planted in. The pot has no bottom, so talk about good drainage.

The fireweed is just beginning to bloom. I suppose it really is a weed as it grows along roadsides and that's where I got this plant. But it hasn't spread, and I like it for its habit of blooming later in the summer.

My favorite begonia. It's a deep pinkish red, just gorgeous and doesn't get unsightly when the blooms fade like the light pink ones do.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Tomatoes, Tomatoes, Tomatoes

Yesterday was more tomato work--this time pasta sauce. We ended up with 33 pints of goodness, thanks to Mrs. Wage's. We also put away 7 pints of corn, in the freezer instead of canning because I was too tired to do that. And I wanted some firepit time in the evening.

It's funny how we can be so worn out, but light the fire, pour a glass of wine and sit out on the patio with the dogs, and soon the fatigue just turns into sleepiness and a guarantee of a good night's sleep.

This morning we were back out early to get more tmatoes and to buy jars and also to look at a couple of things for our booths. We came home with a vanload.

This is why I love my van! A lovely oak mantle, old steamer trunk, 2 chairs, 3 bushels of tomatoes, boxes of jars, a few other groceries, and still plenty of room for more if we wanted to.

Now it's all unloaded and I need to get back in the kitchen. But here's a link to a post I wrote some time back, all about tomatoes: 

Love Apples


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Another Story, and Home News

This conversation excerpt from two years ago showed up on my Facebook timeline. I don't remember who she was, and I had forgotten this story, so I was glad when it popped up this morning:

The lady behind us in line at the store said, "I went to Sissonville High School. When I was 15 I had a boy friend. I wanted to get him a gift but didn't have any money. School lunch was 25 cents back then, but if I cleared tables after lunch I ate for free. I saved my quarters until I had enough money to buy him a $25.00 sweater at the Diamond Department store. It was my only experience with the Diamond, but I married my boyfriend that year. That was 56 years ago and we're still married."

What a happy start to my day this story was! 

We were up early (for us) today. A friend of one of my sons had tomatoes to give away--right when I was surprised to find there was not one jar of tomatoes left in the cellar. That's the first time that's happened in years! So we went to pick tomatoes this morning and came home with four bushels. We put up 54 quarts and still have a bushel or maybe a little less than that. Those will go into pasta sauce. We hope to get more and put up some tomato juice too, but we will have to buy jars. I couldn't believe it but we're out of quart jars! We have given away a lot of things in the past year--pickles, apple butter, cider, etc--and often the jars can't be brought back. So we're going to have to bite the bullet and buy more. Since we still have cider and applesauce and pickles to make, I think we're going to need a LOT more jars. 

The corn is beginning to ripen. We had the first picking for dinner Sunday and it was delicious. So along with tomatoes, looks like we'll be putting up corn. I freeze corn as we like it better than canned corn, but I might just can some this year--in pints, since we're out of quarts. You never know when the freezer might go down, or the power be off for long stretches.



Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Three Stories from Strangers

Three recent stories told to me by men who were about my age; two from the same man, as I sat waiting for my new tires to be put on, the other while I was at the antique mall and was taking a coffee break with the owner.

Story #1.
"My wife passed away last year. None of her children from her former marriage had spoken to her in over twenty years, and we didn't have any children together. So her children didn't come when she was dying of cancer. I planned to have a little memorial service for her at our home, and then scatter her ashes in our yard as she had requested. But no one could come for a service, so I had to come up with a way to spread her ashes. I got the trash can and poured her ashes out on top of it. Then I took the leaf blower and just blew them away. It worked great. Now, no matter where I go in the yard, I know that some part of her is there too." He paused, then added,  "I sure miss her. She was my best friend, and now I am all alone."

Story #2.
"I have a friend who has to have oxygen. Well, those tanks that you carry around with you, the ones you get from medical supply companies, are expensive. Her insurance didn't cover all the cost of them. One day I took her to Walmart and her tank ran out. She didn't have another one, and she told me she couldn't buy any more for the rest of the month because she couldn't afford them. That made me upset and angry. No one should have to run out of breath because they can't afford oxygen. So I figured out how to get her set up so she could get the tanks a whole lot cheaper (I can't remember all the details of how he did this). It cost me $3000 to get it all set, but now she won't have to worry about not being able to breathe."

This man told me another story about how he writes to a friend in New England who has a disabled daughter. Every time he writes or visits, he includes some little gift for this grown daughter. What a guy. Would that more people could be like him--he wasn't bragging, just telling me about his friends.

Story #3.
"I was wondering what a 5 gallon jug would be worth. You know, one of those made like a crock, brown on top and off-white below, with a handle?"

We told him (usually about $10 a gallon, unless the jug is unique in some way, i.e. writing or designs on it), and then he went on:

"I live outside of Columbus, Ohio, and one day I went out to visit an old feller I'd heard about who lived all by himself way out in the country. He was kind of a hermit, really, never came out of there to go anywhere. Anyway, we talked for a good whle, and I enjoyed him. He was interesting, you know? When I went to leave, he picked up this crock that was sitting there and handed it to me, saying, "Here, here's something to remember me by." A few days later he had a heart attack and they took him to the hospital. He died on the operating table. He was 93 years old. I bet he knew they wouldn't let him go back home, and if he couldn't be there, he just didn't want to live any more."

People. They can tell you the most amazing stories.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Superstitious Spider

My friend Virginia at First50 posted a photo of a beautiful spider she saw the other day, and commented about how much she dislikes them in her house. I admit, I'm with her. I will try to move them out if I can, but often they don't suffer a good fate in my house. Her post prompted me to think about spiders and our reactions to them.

It's well to be wary of this guy, a black widow. (public domain photo)

Many people have arachnophobia--a fear of spiders. (Remember the movie by that name? I've never watched it as my imagination is perfectly fine at concocting horrible scenarios). I have heard, however, that spiders can bring good luck. Superstitions about spiders abound.

For example:

Seeing a spider busy spinning its web means money is coming your way.

Crushing a spider can mean either good luck or bad, depending on where you live. In Russia, squashing a spider means you will be pardoned from 40 sins. But in other countries, you may have bad luck until you have swatted 53 flies. Presumably that's the number the spider might have eaten had it lived? Crushing a spider outside means rain will come.

The sad remains of a tunnel spider's web on the porch. Larry might be getting some bad luck, as he knocked this down with the power washer yesterday.

In Britain, spiders are generally considered good luck. Killing a spider might mean you will be poor for the rest of your life. An old story from the England/Scotland border relates this reason for not killing spiders: A minister visiting an old Border woman in her last illness, observed a spider near her bed and attempted to remove it, when the invalid desired him to let it be, ad reminded him that when our Blessed Lord lay in the manger at Bethlehem, a spider came and spun a beautiful web which protected the Babe from all the dangers which surrounded him---cold and frost and the searchers and soldiers of King Herod. ( from A Pocket Guide to Superstitions of the British Isles by Steve Roud). A different version of this story tells that Mary hid in a cave with her baby, and a spider spun an intricate web over the entrance, leading Herod's soldiers to believe no one had entered the cave for some time.

Another way for a spider to bring you money is to find one crawling on you--even better if it's in your pocket, although I think that would be unnerving.

public domain photo

Spiders can predict visitors too: A web over your front door means visitors are coming--or ir could mean your lover is unfaithful!

Walking into a spider web means we may soon see a friend.

It's good luck to see spiders moving about, but try not to see one light on the floor, or bad luck will follow.

I wrote the following on Virginia's post, following her "Spider" prompt:

Superstitious Spider

Spider, tell me if you can, will I be rich, or poor?
Weave your web so fine and fair across my open door
as you so often try to do
to tell me if my man's untrue.
Bring my friends to visit me,
And then I promise,  I'll let you be.


Thanks for the inspiration, Virginia!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Garden News

It's been a odd year for the garden. Or maybe I always say that. Each year is so different it's hard to know what's normal.

What's been good: the onions and carrots did well. Both are now pulled; the carrots are in the freezer and the onions are drying for storage. We may dehydrate some again as we really like them for soups and stews. The green beans did well. We planted enough just for eating but ended up putting away 14 quarts, even though we still have about 50 quarts in the cellar from last year. The leeks look great so far, and the potatoes are huge.

The peppers did nil. Only one plant looks any good. Possibly because peppers like hot and dry and what we've had is hot, humid and wet. The tomatoes are the oddest thing, though--they're beginning to ripen but the first ones were so small! The ones Larry picked today are more of a normal size, but I have never seen tomatoes do like this. So strange. They're very slow, too, even the ones we planted early, and the Early Girls. The squash FINALLY had one fruit and there are more setting now, but they have been blooming since the beginning of June, and no fruit. The cucumbers ditto. We're just now getting a few to eat but by this time last year I was making pickles almost every day.

Larry replanted squash and cucumbers and put in a few more onions for a late garden, and I may try some more beans too. Last year the deer ate all of our late garden so I hope we have better luck this year.

Then we have these mystery plants. We *think* they might be butternut squash, but they might be dipper gourds. We shall have to wait and see. They came up from seed beside the cellar, and looked so healthy that Larry transplanted a few hills worth. He also planted melons and they are looking good right now--assuming we can keep the deer, possums and other varmints away.

How is your garden doing? Anything awesome, or anything disastrous this year?

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

More Old Photo Memories: Centreville

Going through old photos can be dangerous to your time, I find.

Another surprising photo turned up, and I don't know how long I've had it. I believe my father gave it to me when he and I were looking through his boxes of old pictures. That was a pleasant time, sitting at his kitchen table surrounded by black and white photos, and listening to him try to remember who the people were and what was going on.

I believe that's Judy on the teeter totter, with Joe on the other end; I am in fron of Pinkie Moran and Tom is seated on a swing beside me. Bill is the tall one in back, and I can't remember the name of the girl in front of him. Mickey Moran is on the swing, far right.

In this one, I am with my brothers Bill, Tom and Joe, my sister Judy, I think? and the Moran children. This was taken at our first house in Centreville, Virginia, on Beanblossom Road, probably around 1955. The Morans lived behind us--there was a path through the piney woods that led from our back yard to theirs. The Morans were all blonde-haired, well-tanned and rowdy. We loved to play with them although I think they made my mother nervous--and that's saying something as we weren't too tame ourselves.

One of the things we loved to do was roll on a barrel. We'd get an old metal drum and lay it on its side--30-gallon size was best, but we tried it on 55-gallon drums too--and stand on top of of it. Then by walking backwards or forwards on the rounded side we could roll the drum. It was awesome if there was a little slope as the drum would roll faster and we had to be fast with our feet to stay on top of it.

One day when the Morans were over we had the brilliant idea to get inside the drum and have someone stand on top rolling it. I was inside, as I recall; whoever it was on top started rolling and I started screaming, because I was tumbling all about inside, and it hurt! Another bright idea we had was to put a washtub on someone's head and beat on it with a hammer, like a drum. Tom or Joe, I think, had the drum on his head and Pinkie Moran was beating on it. That lasted only seconds!

Maybe I can see why Mom didn't really like us playing with the Morans after all.



Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Coincidences: Birth, War and the Moon Landing

I was looking through my photos for one specific picture, taken on July 16, 1969, during the moon landing.

I was sitting in a rocking chair in my neighbor Ah How Ching's apartment, and I was nursing my firstborn, who was just 2 months old. I remember the dress I was wearing, a pale orange dropped waist cotton knit with small flowers sprinkled over it. I remember the small TV set that my friend and I watched the landing, and I remember her delight at watching me nurse my baby.

I never found that photo. I know it is here but where remains a mystery. Perhaps this winter I will finally get to the long-put-off job of sorting and organizing our boxes of pictures. Maybe.

What I did find was this blurry, worn Polaroid photo of my husband, also taken in 1969, and with it a letter he'd written home to his mother. The photo shows a young man--a boy really--trying to look like a tough soldier. He's filled out from the good grub the military fed its recruits, better chow than he'd ever had growing up in the coal camp. The thing the picture doesn't show is how scared he is, because he knows that very soon he will be shipping out to Vietnam.

The letter speaks longingly of home, wishing he was there and going hunting with his dad. He talked about calling soon and hoping his mother will be home when he calls, and that he wanted to talk to his father too, although he says, "I know he don't like to talk on the phone much." He also mentioned getting to come home soon for a visit. The visit never happened, as just three weeks after writing the leter he was on his way overseas.

Larry was a long way from West Virginia and the Olcott coal camp in 1969, and I was a long way from knowing he even existed. I was a happy new wife with a little baby, living in northern Virginia, with no idea that my first marriage would end or that I would ever live in West Virginia or meet my second husband there.

So while I was nursing my baby, watching the moon landing and comfortable that my husband was safely in the Air Force Reserve, Larry was somewhere in the jungles of Vietnam and wondering if he'd ever get out of there alive, and why he volunteered for the Marines in the first place.

One thing struck me when I read the letter: it was dated April 18, 1969. On that same day I was in the hospital, giving birth to my first child, who was born about 5 weeks early, and whose due date was actually May 25th--Larry's birthday. April 18th was also my English granny's birthday.

Today it is 50 years since the moon landing. My son is a strong 50-year-old man, and Larry and I have been married for 33 years. Such an odd weaving of destinies life can be.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Who Lived There Before I Did? More Fairlington Memories

My last post about Fairlington prompted another memory about my year there.

I asked the property manager we paid rent to about the people who had lived in our apartment before we did, and I had a reason for my question.

"It was an elderly couple," the manager said. "They lived there from the time the apartments were built." So, my guess is that the husband was a defense worker; maybe his wife was too as many women worked in the war effort during WWII.

"She died before him, I believe," the man went on, "and I don't think they had any children. I remember him sitting in a rocker in front of the living room windows, looking out at the street. That's about all I can remember, except that they were nice people."

And that was why I had asked. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I would see, or thought I saw, an elderly man in a rocker, or standing by the window. There would be nothing there, of course, when I turned to look. I sometimes felt like there was someone watching me, but not in an unfriendly way. It was comforting in a way, to know I wasn't all alone. Weird, I know, but being alone most of the day when I was used to a houseful of people and children (remember, I came from a family of 13) was nice, true, but also odd. And so quiet when my little baby wasn't awake.

Another funny memory: when we moved in, the neighbors were puzzled. We looked so young! They finally decided we were older brother and his little sister. No one asked, and no one realized I was pregnant until I had my baby! He came 6 weeks early, so I didn't show much. When we came home with him, they were so surprised, and told me they thought I was about 14 years old. Ah me. I did look very young for my age.

I remember the young couple downstairs, too. Rich and ? Apple. They had a baby a bit after we did, and they named her Cristy Cubica. Because, they said, they wanted her name to be different. It certainly was.

And one other memory from there: we were awakened one night by a woman screaming. We weren't sure where the screams were coming from, but remembered the rapes that had happened a few months before. As we started to call the police, a squad car pulled up. Neighbors streamed out of buildings to see what was going on. What was it? Well, a couple in one of the townhouse units had gotten into a little, um, playful love-making, shall we say.

I had a difficult time looking them in the eye for weeks.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Fairlington Memories

Michelle's post about her stay in Alexandria, VA reminded me of the year I lived in that area.

That year--November of 1968-November 1969--was the first year of my first marriage, and this was our first home: Fairlington apartments, on the border of Fairfax, Arlington and Alexandria, VA. The complex was built to house defense workers during the war, but when I lived there the buildings were owned by a private company. Imagine paying $93 a month for rent, with all utilities included, and only 2 1/2 miles from the Pentagon!


By the time I lived there, all the units--and there were many of them!--were surrounded by large, full-grown trees, mostly oaks as I recall. Our building at 2943 South Dinwiddie Street, perched on the side of a hill; from our dining area and kitchen windows I could look far down at the road winding its way up to our street. My little dog Gidget (a Jack Russell) and I would watch at the window for my husband's red Volkswagen beetle to come up the hill. She always knew before I did as she could hear the car and would begin whining.

Here is a recent photo of our building, from the internet. 

We lived in the center red brick building, on the second floor, to the right, apartment B-2, if I remember right. Across the hall from us was a lady named Ah How Ching. I remember her well. She and I watched the moon landing together on her TV as I nursed my newborn son. The basement had laundry facilities, and while we were living there several women in other buildings were raped. The rapist was caught--he was one of the trashmen. I didn't know about the rapes until months afterward. I always felt so safe here among the big trees and nice neighbors, but I was only 17 and so naive.


The apartments would be of an enviable size today. Ours had a large living room with a dining nook and the cutest kitchen, about 8 feet square and today would be considered so vintage with its big sink, window and old cabinets. The kitchen floor was ceramic tile, and the bathroom was tile as well. There was a huge bedroom with a big closet. The rest of the floors were hardwood, and the windows were quite large, with nice wood trim. The walls were plaster. Today this would be considered upscale! 

I didn't really know the history of the place when we lived there; I just liked its old-fashionedness, if that makes sense. In many ways it was like the old house I grew up in. I didn't drive at the time I lived there, but I would often take my son and little dog on walks along the tree-lined streets. In some ways, it was an idyllic year--the blush of first love, my first baby, the comfortable apartment, learning to cook and keep house. We bought our first house when I found I was expecting another baby--the apartment had only one bedroom--and I was glad to get out into the country and away from the noise of the city, but I will always remember my year at Fairlington with fondness.

Fairlington was turned into condos in the early 1970's and remains standing today. A historical marker was placed some years ago when the complex was placed on the National Historic Register. 

"Designed in the Colonial Revival style by Kenneth Franzheim and Alan B. Mills and constructed between 1942 and 1944, Fairlington is an early example of successful community planning and large-scale, publicly financed rental housing built for defense workers and their families during World War II. With 3,439 garden apartments, Fairlington was the largest project financed by Defense Homes Corporation (a component of the National Housing Agency) and the nation’s largest apartment complex at that time. The units were renovated and sold as condominiums between 1972 and 1977. The name Fairlington combines Fairfax and Arlington, the counties in which the project was located."

You can read more about Fairlington on Wikipedia.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Hot Times

It's hot. And humid.

I do not like July. It is my least favorite month of the year, and as far as I can see it's only redeeming features are the family birthdays this month, and the wildflowers all along the roadsides. The butterfly weed has been especially thick.

 

Daisies are one of my favorite flowers--so undemanding, so perfect.

My begonias were getting leggy in the heat, so I pruned them back a little, and enjoyed the clippings in a small windowsill bouquet.

We're in the upper 80's all this week, and it looks like next week will just be a repeat. Ugh.We get out early to do what we need to do, then I stay indoors to work and Larry...well, he's in and out, but mostly on the back porch where he has a big antique fan that keeps him comfortable. We've managed to catch up on the string-trimming (me), weedeating and mowing (him) that was close to getting out of hand since we were away most of last week at the flea market.

We've about cleared up the clutter that we dragged home from the sale, too--it's almost more work to sort it all and figure out where to put it than it is to pack it up and haul out! We took several totes to the Goodwill, took a couple vanloads back to our booths and restocked there, and now there are just two pieces of furniture I bought at the sale and some random chairs to be put away. The house, as well as the gardens, is slowly returning to what passes for normal here.

This year the gardens are much slower coming along than last year. That's a blessing, really, with this heat. Last year by this time I was making pickles almost every day. We still have lots of pickles left, a good thing since the cukes are just now starting to produce. I put up a canner-load of beans and froze about the same amount, and Larry pulled the onions today and spread them out to dry. Tomorrow, I think he plans to dig the carrots. We need to replant a few areas but I'm not feeling too motivated. I just don't handle heat like I used to, that's a fact.

I am ready to get back to painting furniture now that the major pressures of performances and the flea market are over. I have a few storytelling things coming up in the next few weeks, but only one or two of them will require major study and planning. So I am feeling like I can relax a little, at least for a week or so. I got back to putting up ebay listings today;sales have been good even though I've neglected listing new items for a while. Time to get back into it--I'll need the dollars for my trip to England in August!

That's about all that's going on here--staying cool is at the top of the list each day, and we mostly manage it. I hope you're able to do the same!

Kitchen window at night

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

More Stories from the Past Week

One of the best things about the flea market is the stories we find.

First one was from another vendor. This vendor said, "You'll never believe what my son does for a living."

And he was right. I've never heard of this job before, and I wonder if any of you have either.

What does he do?  He catches birds. Not in the wild though--he catches birds that get into stores and warehouses. The son told me he loves his job. He said he has learned so much about birds, like which ones are wary and hard to catch, which ones are more curious, and which ones he has to put on a camouflage costume to catch, He travels all over the place, working for a company that specializes in this line of work. Fascinating.

The other story--or maybe it was more of an observation--was one of the customers at the market yesterday. A man who looked to be in his early 50's just walked and walked and walked, circling through the market over and over again. Now it was really hot and humid and everyone was sweaty, He was too but he kept right on walking. And talking--to himself. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, just walked and talked. I wondered why he'd come all the way out there, or if this was just a regular routine for him. I wondered where he was from, who he was, what his story was. No one knew anything about him. So for me he will remain The Walker.

Oh, and that hatchet I mentioned yesterday? The trend continued with every man coming into the booth picking it up, until a young woman came in, picked it up and two others as well, and bought all three! I believe they are destined to be wall art on her garden shed.

Today we got the vehicles unloaded. We made an early start and were at the barn where the market was held before 8am, so we were first to get in and get started. A good thing since today was another horribly hot and humid day. We then reloaded the van with things to take back to our booths, but there is still a pile to be sorted out and put away. Maybe tomorrow I will get that done.

This afternoon we mainly tried to stay inside. I unpacked my books and things from the creative writing class I taught the last week of June, and tied up some loose ends from that. And packed ebay--lots of packages going out tomorrow.

The day ended with a visit from neighbors and a spectacular thunderstorm that lit up the skies. Since the sun was setting, the sky was the oddest color, pink and yellow and yet storming mightily. I took photos but my phone can't get service right now to upload them, and I still haven't unearthed my camera from the flea market stuff. One step at a time, right?

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

At the flea market the rest of this week. Sales were good yesterday and today as well, even though it is unbelievably hot.

Some moments: the 90 year old lady truckin' through here with no cane, spry as can be. The many many men who picked up this handmade hatchet,

the little Amish girl who wanted the sparkly black and pink fan a friend gave me so badly that I gave it to her,the pregnant girl who looked so hot i invited her to sit by my awesome fan,

all the old vets who shared their Vietnam memories with my husband...and many more.
Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggedy Jig

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!

It's the first of the month, so be sure to make your good-luck wish by saying rabbit three times.

I'm home at last after 9 days away. During those days I told stories at the West Virginia State Folk Festival and taught a week of creative writing in the high hills of Pocahontast county. It was a splendiforous time--being with friends old and new, writing and talking about writing, singing, campfires, music, the beautiful Geenbrier River, deep nights with many stars, late nights of music and conversation...it could hardly get any better.

I didn't take as many as usual, because I was so busy living it all that I didn't take time to step away and record it. Which is okay too, right?

A porchful of poets:

One of the many music jams that happened every day (and often far into the night):

Another jam:

One of my students was thrilled to see WRITER beside her name on the roster for the student concert:

The crowd gathering at the Opera House for the student concert. There is also a full house for this event:

One of the fiddle classes: there are classes for beginning, intermediate and advanced levels, Students of all ages take the class together.

One of my students reading a poem he completed during the week. We did some storytelling along with writing, which turned out to be a good mix.

Storyteller Larry Staats was in my writing class. Here he shares a story during the student concert.

Another of my students, reading a poem she wrote during the week:

Hard at work in the classroom. We had a total of 15 students for the week.

Some views that surround visitors to Pocahontas county:

So, back to normal life today: unpacking, doing laundry and getting things ready for the upcoming antique and flea market!

(But truth to tell, I'd rather still be writing and listening to music in the mountains.)
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