March 25th, 2011

Grandma's Cellar

Full disclosure: they’re not all Masons…that one on your left is an Atlas. And apparently I was focused on only the Atlas…wish the other two were as sharp. Anyway, just some more photography using the light box. And don’t these appear to be floating? Interesting.

I love the color of these jars. They were handed down to me by my mom…to her by her mom. Who knows how many pears, green beans, corn and other delectables have graced these. On visits each July to my grandparents in Kentucky, I would spend my days roaming the hills and investigating the outbuildings. Sooner or later my hikes would lead me to my grandmother’s cellar, and I would hesitantly inch into it…dark, with garlands of cobwebs crisscrossing its whole. But the air was cool, and it was a nice escape from the summer heat. Once inside, I’d find a spot free from spiders and just stand and take in the scenery. The earthen walls were shelved with row upon row of these jars all lined up atop old boards. They were filled with the garden’s harvest and my grandparents’ toil…planting, gathering, washing, blanching, boiling, “putting up.” I don’t think they had a need for much, if any, canned goods–almost all came from their trees and garden. And I still remember how yummy her pears and green beans tasted.

Here’s a photo I took of the cellar just a few months ago. Directly opposite this side of my grandparents’ house, it’s now in disrepair, shadowed by a decades-old oak tree. Again, what would Grandma say… .

Correction! Actually, all three of these are masons, named so for John Landis Mason, who invented and patented the canning jar in 1858. The one on the left is made by Atlas, and the other two are made by Ball…which shoulda rung some bells, as that is my grandparents’ surname. HellO…Earth to Holly!

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March 9th, 2011

My Cup O' Tea

Remember the giant teacups that were popular in the 90s? Or are they still? I might know, except that I’m not the consumer I used to be. Well, back then I just had to have one, and that Christmas, this appeared under the tree. I especially loved it because the pattern was so similar to a jacket that I sewed back in high school. Yes, I used to sew…at least up until the point the instructions read “make buttonhole”…then, interest dropped precipitously. And I know what you’re thinking…she made a jacket that looked like that??? Uh, yes, she did. Anyway, the poor cup has been neglected and has been sitting in the cupboard for years now, and I’ve decided that if it’s not being used, it must go. But, I’ll never let this go because it’s all I have left (besides a few green buttons) to remind me that I almost had a useful skill and, more importantly, Santa gave it to me. Expect to see those green buttons as I continue to practice my macro shots. :o)

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March 2nd, 2011

First Footwear

I know, I know…enough with the light box, however, I did have these in mind to post here and since I was still testing the darned thing… .

So, these are my first shoes, or so I found out when they were recently unearthed from my mom’s years’ of stuff, and I’m amazed at how much wear they seem to have gotten. Apparently, I was a busy newborn. Now considered *ack* vintage…twice over…I feel that these, at times, still “fit.” Figuratively, of course. In the coming year, may I get my stuff together and grow up already! Geesh.

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February 23rd, 2011

Pembroke Napkin Ring

Lucy is highly peeved that a napkin ring has taken precedence over a photo of herself. Sorry, Lucy, but this is one of my first experiments using the recently built light box, which I mentioned here. I shot this in macro mode and then used the auto adjust, as well as extra brightness, through Windows’ Live Photo Gallery. I wasn’t sure how much brightness to cast…don’t want it shadowy nor washed-out. I’m going to move the lights (four, 100-watt bulbs) further inside the box (as the instructions suggest) and see how that looks. Maybe that will take care of the shadows in the corners.

This Pembroke bone china napkin ring, made by Aynsley, is one of a set of four and was given to me by a good friend many years ago. Despite that, it may end up on the chopping block as I lighten the load around here by stocking my not-yet-functioning Etsy shop. If you’re in the market for ‘em, check back.

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January 29th, 2011

A New Home

Here’s my dad’s Chevy pickup parked outside its new home—my sister’s place. My dad didn’t care for cold weather and the problems it caused him and my mom, and like him, his poor old truck probably misses the warm sun, green grass and buttercups, as here. And like us, it probably misses him, too.

Ironically, on the day of my dad’s ceremony of the spreading of his ashes, the forecast was for cold and rain, weather he would not have been happy about, and, for days prior to and following the ceremony, the weather was such, but, on the day of…in the middle of what his mom would call “pewy” weather…there appeared a clear blue sunny sky, crisp air, and a welcome strong breeze…just as though my dad had special ordered it… .

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January 11th, 2011

Early Daze

Me, two years old, playing outside my grandparents’ house and my first home. In my Radio Tot I tow my teddy bear—which I still have, its innards crunchy from dry-rot—and perhaps sheet music, to the likes of Oh My Darling, Clementine or She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain. The bonnet and jacket are corduroy and were handmade by Grandma. Standing in the yard, on the side of the house, I’m surrounded by a smokehouse, a cellar and a young maple tree. Those are my cousins, E and J, peeking out of the kitchen window behind me—Grandma used to watch them while their mom and dad were at work. I don’t remember this photo being taken, however, there was another instance that I do remember, although it wasn’t captured on film…something more interesting and a tad dramatic. I often wonder if it’s only a dream, but I don’t think so. My mother has agreed that, knowing my grandmother, it’s quite possible that it did happen. And if so, it’s my earliest memory…

The opposite side of the house had an L-shaped cement porch, a water pump, and a well, all shaded by a large apple tree. One fair-weathered day I was standing thereabouts, nibbling on a slab of bologna. Suddenly, a dog came out of nowhere. Grandma had a dog, but this was a different one…one I’d never seen before…larger and darker than her Queenie. It charged at me, but stopped short and grabbed the meat from my greasy, chubby hands. I squealed and started to cry. My alarmed grandmother ran out of the house, and upon seeing the four-legged thief gulping down my snack, went back inside and returned with a shotgun…or was it a rifle? Either way, she shot the dog dead. (I don’t remember being scared by the gunshot—probably because I’d heard shots before from hunters, including my grandfather.) She then grabbed a shovel, and she, carrying the poor thing, and I, walked to the field behind the house, then turned to climb a short way up the hill. At a chosen spot, she dug out some of the dirt, laid the lifeless body down and then covered it up. I asked her what would happen to him…where would he go? He’ll turn to dust and go back to the earth, she said.

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January 10th, 2011

Old Kentucky Home II

This was my grandparents’ house—rather, what’s left of it—in Eastern Kentucky, where I spent my first couple of years. They moved here some time in the 40′s when my mother was just a girl. Years later, she married and had me, but soon after she and my father (not the same father who brought me up and whom I lost a year ago) parted ways. I stayed here with my grandparents while she moved to Washington, DC, to look for work, and he continued his tour of duty in the Air Force in Korea. And such was life until circumstances caused me to be whisked away to Virginia and a new life… .

We returned to the house every summer for the family reunion, so I was never too far removed from my grandparents or their rustic lifestyle. Milking cows, hauling coal, pumping water, churning butter, robbing bees, wringing chickens’ necks, slaughtering hogs, trips to the outhouse and bathing out of a wash pan…it all proved to be a hard life for my grandparents, though an adventure for young me. Of course there were easier times, too…swinging on the porch swing, playing checkers, riding the workhorses Bess and Belle, listening to the Reds game on a transistor radio, picking blackberries for an after-dinner cobbler… . I think I have just as many memories of life here as I do of life in Virginia.

Decades later, though, after my grandparents were gone, a family dispute led to an auctioning off of the house and its land. Other relatives ended up with all but a few acres that were given to my parents when they moved here from Virginia in the 70′s.

So, here the old house now sits, dilapidated and abandoned in all but the hearts of those who know and still love it.

It’s the house that lies at the end of the road here…it’s over there, on the right… .

(Ack. I didn’t realize until after I posted this that I had posted the photo on December 16, hence ‘Old Kentucky Home II’ here. This post, at least, gives you a bit of history. Sorry ’bout that!)

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