The Borador Momentarily Not in Motion

     In the backyard, my Duncan is rarely an object at rest, therefore when I saw him reposed yesterday, I had to record it for posterity. He had positioned himself in the very middle of the yard, with an eye on the trees at right and left (for squirrels) and the neighbor's deck to the rear (for cats), so he was not actually napping. I know that he likes to be close to the fireplace or snuggled under blankets so perhaps he was also enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on one of autumn's last ambrosial days.

Of course, when he hears the click of the camera shutter, he is instantly alert!

Long and Phillips

     Two ordinary names - two extraordinary couples (at least by modern standards) - their lives were composed of  heartbreaking losses and exhilarating triumphs. This beautiful photograph must have commemorated some event, perhaps Alfred and Nellie's wedding, but is not documented. It is solely speculation but I believe that there was a special bond between father and daughter, evidenced only by the rest of her hand on his shoulder, the reach of his arm in her direction and the fact that, in his later years,  he followed her to Grand Rapids from Detroit.

      Jane Hartigan, seated on left, was one of six children born to Irish immigrants in St. John, New Brunswick, Canada, who moved to Massachusetts in 1850. That same year, following the birth of a seventh sibling and shortly thereafter the death of her father, teen aged Jane began working in a textile mill to help support her family. Jane may have met Jeremiah Long through her brother (both were apprenticed to boot-makers).    

     In the photo, Jeremiah appears almost pompous but it may be that he was just very self-confident and fiercely independent, attributes that would serve him well in his later years when he held the 

office of Michigan state representative (photo below - back row - far right).  Letters and original poetry still survive that prove him also to have been  a loving, tender-hearted patriarch. At the end of his life, Jeremiah was a widower and lived with his granddaughter's family; sadly blindness contributed to his death when he misstepped and fell down a basement stairway.

      Jeremiah came to America from Cork, Ireland as a little boy, possibly following a much older brother. When he met Jane he was living with an Irish family named Morrow. In 1861 he enlisted in the Union Army, serving as a rifleman in the militia, and at Fort McHenry he sustained a wound from a rebel sword. When he returned home early in the summer of 1862, he and Jane married immediately. 

      Jane and Jeremiah had nine children but it was a heart-breaking loss when two did not survive infancy and two died as young adults. By 1880 the family had moved more than 700 miles west to Detroit, Michigan (anti-Irish sentiment was rampant in the northeastern cities) and Jeremiah was working in a customs office.  There young Nellie met Alfred Phillips. They stand in the photo, straight-backed, determined and dreamy with plans for the future - Nellie with her delicate features and pert nose, and Alfred so boyishly handsome with dark gentle eyes. Their life together is another story, another post.

    

The Wisdom of Apples

     Sweet nephew, Nathan, had his wisdom teeth extracted and I wanted to help him feel better. Couldn't take away the pain or the swelling but I did know that the boy loves homemade baked goods. Since there was a ten pound bag of apples waiting in the kitchen, I decided not on bread or cake but a healthy crock of chunky applesauce. I figured that the cinnamon-y slightly sweetened  treat could be eaten either warm or cold, and  would require little chewing and limited mouth opening! 

     I wanted enough applesauce for us to have a couple of quarts, as well as the half-quart for Nathan, so the apple peeler was deemed necessary. It made quick work of peeling, coring and slicing, though the chunks were a bit smaller than I usually prefer. Of course, the house smelled heavenly while the sauce simmered on the stove and we enjoyed some with our dinner that night. And next morning when I visited Nathan, his puffy face lit up and he immediately sat down, opened his gift and began savoring spoonfuls of his very own fall feast.

November Robins - A Gathering

     The big window above my kitchen sink affords a good view of my little pond, which is now covered with screens to keep out the autumn leaves. While rinsing the breakfast dishes this morning, I noticed a couple of robins alighting on the screen. Then several more flew in until there was at least a dozen of the red-breasts surrounding the pond. They all seemed thirsty for the moisture that had accumulated on the screen (from droplets splashed by the waterfall in front of the concrete frog.) In all, the boisterous flock created an interesting diversion from a mundane chore.

Our Nonnie

     Great-aunt Nonnie was a prominent figure in my early childhood. She was a trim tiny woman with porcelain skin and soft gray hair that she unpinned only at night. Mild in manner and serene, she was nonetheless a little dynamo - cooking, baking, cleaning and caring for family as well as countless relatives and friends that frequented her Grand Rapids home. Even while sitting on the front porch swing, her fingers were forever busy, peeling apples or stringing green beans and her neat shirtwaist dresses were always covered with an apron. Nonnie's good home baked bread was simply an essential weekly staple but it was and is, the standard by which I judge any white bread (as her home was the epitome of old-fashioned but fascinating charm.) When I knew Nonnie, she was a grandmother in her sixties but of course, I thought she was old.

     Florence Barry Phillips, our Nonnie and my grandmother's older sister, was born in Grand Rapids, Michigan; her father was from England and her mother was second-generation Irish. At age twenty-one, she married the equally mild-mannered Fred Follet Stoffer,  son of a successful farmer from a neighboring county, who worked in a local hardware store. Florence and Fred had five children, the youngest of which were energetic twin boys. Various other people lived in the home at different times: among them boarders, a blind grandfather, Florence's own sister and a niece, so obviously the couple were congenial and generous. 

     My mother once said she couldn't understand what Nonnie saw in plain, simple, unambitious Fred, but I think she chose well, especially after I was given the print below - our Gibson girl and her handsome dapper man!

b. 28 March 1889
d . 28 March 1980

Sparkly Miscanthus Display

     The early morning sun had just peeped over the roof lines east of our house. Shadows were still deep and dark but brilliant sunbeams suddenly illuminated the fall flowers of the miscanthus that border the fence, and the fronds appeared to sparkle like mini-fireworks. I knew this display would last only minutes so, still in robe and slippers, I grabbed my camera and scooted out the back door to shoot from a couple of different angles. I wonder if the neighbors have become accustomed to the crazy, camera lady who flits around the yard in her PJ's at six a.m. in the morning!?

Celestial Pumpkin for Halloween

     I guess you could say I get starry-eyed at the end of October - I love the themes of autumn and harvest and Halloween. My jack-o-lantern this year was also starry-eyed, literally! And far from being frightful, his big toothy smile conveyed an affable happiness. Several trick-or-treaters and their parents commented appreciatively on Jack's grinning countenance so I felt that my creative efforts, while simple, were worthwhile.