Posted in Weekly Wrap-Up

Sunday Report

My words are not flowing this week, I fear.  It’s Just that there’s No News. The week has been mundane, though filled with Appointments, grandkids, harvesting and the associated chopping, writing, reading, the occasional shower…just the everyday-life kind of stuff.

It’s that stuff, the ordinary, that brings the most Joy, though.  I am so grateful to have each day that is given to me.  As the daylight hours wane, I’ve felt the tug to soak each one with wonder and to feel the tilt and rotation and revolution of this orb we call Earth.

Too often my equilibrium is shaken by the intrusion of the World; in creeps Fear.  You can’t stop it by pretending it’s not there — believe me, I’ve tried.   I remember The First thing I learned in Nursing School back in 1971, written on the blackboard at the front of a room full of freshly-starched student nurses, “Man Fears the Unknown”…

That jarring phrase has kindled my compassion throughout the years, helping me to understand that all of us are fearful, even when we aren’t overtly feeling Afraid.  Anxiety sets into our necks and shoulders, digs out a hole that must be fed by some numbing agent like food or wine, scrambles our thinking, makes us irritable, makes us sad.

It’s that damn Unknown…  But what if we did know?  Would that make us feel more or less stressed?  Well, We Don’t Know.  The Unknown is part of Living as a Human.  It’s Everywhere.

I am Sure, though, that the antidote to Fear is Gratitude and its sidekick, Joy.  Sometimes, though, I have to jump-start my Hope and let Fear know this:  I am not in control, but neither are You.  To that end, I’m planning a retreat this week to still my mind and prepare for the coming onslaught we’re calling the election.  Retreating can be a valuable time to Refresh and Renew the Spirit, letting go of negativity and making room for positivity.  The plan is to start Monday at sundown, finish Wednesday at sundown.  I’ll study and pray with my Gurus, try some new healthy recipes, walk a new path, adopt a new perspective, and toss fear back into the lizard brain where it belongs… I hope,…but who knows?

I’m so grateful for this opportunity to Rise Above the noise and confusion sliming through the Streaming Universe… I hope I can go 48 hours without a fix of fear…

Peace

Posted in The Gardens of Sonnystone...

Growing Every Season

On the Equinox, we said a sad Farewell to Summer, 2020…one for the Memory Books now…and spoke a hopeful Welcome to Autumn…Batter Up!  As we move through the Seasons, we always stop to take stock of what we’ve accomplished, where we learned, what ideas we have to improve…

We’re going to expand the Edible Garden to make room to grow watermelons and pumpkins and sprawl-y vine-y such fruits.  With a little bit of tree-pruning, we’ll have an new 24 x 8 plenty-o’sun area for growing.  The bed will be 16 x 4 and we’ll rock the rest for containers and so carts can still get through.  It will, of course have to be fenced so the critters don’t trash it, but we happen to have Just Enough fencing to re-use and the same gate will be moved to the south end.  That sounds a bit confusing, but here’s the first of the “Vision” and I’ll keep you informed as it comes together.

We brought in two of the four remaining tomatoes, netting about a dozen small nearly-ripe fruits.  Otherwise, the Edible Garden hasn’t changed much in the past week.

It was perfect weather yesterday to divide the Rudbeckia in the Peace/Bird Garden.  We moved out all of the remaining daisies and shuffled the coneflowers around, too.  Remember how my original plan was to have all natives in this garden?  Well, as soon as the mums bloom and fade, we’ll remove them, leaving all Natives with space for more next spring…almost like I planned it that way, but we know better…

Fall is in the air, all right, with Super weather for just Being Outside…I’m really digging it…

Keep on Growing…

 

Posted in Weekly Wrap-Up

Sunday Report

Our youngest granddaughter started Kindergarten last month, not in the Usual way, though, as not much is Usual these days.  She’s thrilled, though, to be virtually attending and excitedly told me about getting 100% on her quizzes.  Today Casey is helping her with her school project: identifying trees by their leaves.

Trees are vital. As the biggest plants on the planet, they give us oxygen, store carbon, stabilize the soil and give life to the world’s wildlife. They also provide us with the materials for tools and shelter.

We’ve got a lot of trees, several tree-identification books, and Grandpa already knows which are which around the house.  It’s perfect weather for tromping around the grounds, though the colors haven’t changed yet.

It’s a familiar Autumn school assignment, one that I remember doing back in First Grade at James Whitcomb Riley elementary school with my teacher, Miss Prokes.  I recall both of my children carefully gathering leaves for their lesson and we helped Olivia complete the same nearly seven years ago. This is probably the last time we’ll have a kinder to guide into the complexities of nature and how each of us is part of the whole, but my children and grandchildren are all aware that my Motto is “We are All One”, even trees, plants, and critters.


I was already dreading the chaos that is going to come with the election this year and now I shudder to think of how the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg is going to cause further disputes.  She was/is one of my Heroes.  May her Memory Be a Blessing…

This poem puts into beautiful verse how I, and many of you, are feeling about the loss of RBG…

WHEN GREAT TREES FALL
by Maya Angelou…

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.

Peace

Posted in The Gardens of Sonnystone...

Growing Every Season

We’re in a bit of a holding pattern here at the gardens, just waiting for the plants to Finish Up.  There are almost a dozen peppers still maturing and it’s about time!  The tomatoes look spent, but there are a good ten fruits left to ripen.  The green beans have flowered, should be ready to pick in a week or so.  I think we Saved the broccoli – no more worms — but they need to do a little catch-up growing.  We cut down the cucumbers who had served us so well this summer.

I finally trimmed the rudbeckia in the Peace/Bird Garden, where the fall mums are almost ready to pop their buds.  The urn that was in the middle was moved to the porch…

Have you met Larry Garcia?  I bought him at a rummage sale for $3.  To me, he looks like a mashup of Larry Caplan, our old County Ag agent who taught my Master Gardening class, and Jerry Garcia, you know, Grateful Dead Guy?  He gets moved around on a regular basis, not an easy task since he is stone(d).  Heavy, man..

I’m ready for fall weather and decorations, just waiting for the official First Day to drag out my Autumn stuff.  I can feel the change in the air already, though, as the sun dips and the air nips…

Keep on Growing…

 

 

Posted in 2020, Genealogy of Sonnystone Acres

Sonnystone Saga: Before and After

To celebrate 17 years living at Sonnystone Acres, we are publishing a series of posts chronicling the first three families who lived here, spanning 111 years…

This is the fourteenth and final installment of the series…

When we moved in, the house was clapboard with old crank-out windows that were covered with sheets of plastic.  The fireplaces were covered and sealed with wood.  It was drafty and old Mr. Casler, who was a math professor at UE, had pushed old mimeographed test papers into the gaps in the windows.  The radiator-heating worked fine, but it needed a boost, so we put a woodburner in the front fireplace and a gas stove in the back the first winter, but our utility bills were outrageous until the following year when we put in new windows and siding.

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The laundry room is in the old garage that we call the Shed (we added a Real garage later), about 15 feet from our kitchen door.  We brainstormed for years to figure out how to connect them, finally arriving at a solution just three years ago…  It is now a fully enclosed covered room that connects the two buildings.

Walkway between house and laundry room/shed

—————————————————————————————————————–

The Big Tree in front of the south porch, where the Bird/Peace Garden is now, was a Big reason I fell in love with this house.  It was huge, seriously huge, and the first year we had a family of raccoons that lived in a hollow at its base; the babies were darling, but Casey moved them on.  After a few year, a monstrous branch fell — I can’t find the picture, but it was nearly as tall as I am — and I began to see that if I didn’t remove it, it would surely fall on my house.  I’m talking Large Tree that gave shade all the way over the house to the area where the pool is now.  It killed me (and my pocketbook) to have a crane come in and take it down.

It was a good move, though.  Just three years later 70mph straight-line winds blew in and felled the two large trees that were in the front.  They grazed our porch and took out part of the original garage roof where the pool is now.  I think the Huge tree would have smashed our whole house if it had still been standing.

the trees that fell

The hostas and ferns became a thing of the past…it’s all full sun now…and that’s why we screened in the front porch…

Over the last 17 years, the interior has been painted and carpeted a couple of times, different furniture, different arrangements.  I took very few before pictures…no phone cameras back then.  All of these “before” pictures were taken the day we first viewed the home and show the Casler’s decor…

We use the back “bedroom” as a family room…

There was a Lot of wallpaper…  We painted the cabinets 4-5 years after we moved in… I’m ready to repaint them now…this winter…

The middle room that was used as a bedroom was open to the back door–I mean, you walk in and there’s my bed and you had to walk through my bedroom to get to the fam room…  That had to change.  We put up a half-wall and made an entry area and a cozy bedroom…

The entryway formed by the half-wall changed the shotgun-house effect…

There is an entire upstairs, but we do not have “before” pictures.  It’s a cool area with two bedrooms and a full bath that features a clawfoot tub.  We’ve done work up there, but it doesn’t really show…

Some oddities:

The weird door?   It’s very small, maybe original to the cabin, but the locks are…strange…

The trap shooter… There is a foundation behind it that we’re still exploring, possibly where the shooters stood?  It is all wooded now, just to make the study challenging…

It’s been fun writing this genealogy of our home and I thank you for following along.  It isn’t just my love of the house that has motivated all this work, but also my love of historical research.

The Investigations continue!  I’ll be writing stories about my Own Ancestors and others, posting them every Monday here at Sonnystone Acres.

Stay Tuned…

Posted in 2020, Weekly Wrap-Up

Sunday Report

I guess that nostalgia got to me…last week I was in a bit of a funk.  I went off on a tangent of thought and decided that we needed to buy a full-size van, something like the one we’d owned back in the 90s: a 1987 Ford Econoline 150 that was the scene of many good times. I pictured us throwing a tent in the back, loading up a cooler, and hitting the road.  I jumped right into the rabbit-hole that is the FB marketplace and searched out a couple of contenders, newer and more up-to-date, and messaged the owners. I figured it was a good sign that they were available, though 87 miles away in Paducah, Kentucky.

We were looking for a day-trip anyway, so off we set early Friday morning.  We stopped in Madisonville to pick up cash, sure we’d be making a purchase.

Of the two that I found, I felt the first one was the obvious choice with less miles, a new transmission, brakes, tires.  The owner was a mechanic, which I felt was an advantage, and the vehicle could be viewed at his Auto Repair Shop.

The van was out front of the garage when we arrived and we looked it over.  There were some flaws that weren’t mentioned in the ad, but hey.  Up in the auto bay, a guy spotted us from under a car and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands.  We asked for “Mike”; he was “Mike”.  He went to get the keys and as he brought them to us, he pulled a Marlboro 100 out of the pack in his pocket and placed one in his mouth, where it remained…  He never lit it, but he proceeded to talk with this cigarette dangling and bobbing with every word.  I was fascinated, watching the ciggie move as he spoke, impressed with the guy’s lip flexibility.  I couldn’t really understand what he was saying, but he was talking to Casey, not me.

As we opened up the doors to the van…what a sight to see…there were greasy smears of black on the carpet with a toolbox sitting in the center of the floor; other mechanical items were piled on the seats.  There were floor mats thrown under the passenger seat that were way too big and nearly fell out when I opened the door.  A large baby seat sat like a throne on the back bench seat with a play station laying beside it.  Clothes were hanging from a rack in the back…  I felt like I had walked into the guy’s bedroom.

We climbed in to take it for a drive and just as we were backing out, the owner, unlit-smoke still hanging from his lips, ran back out and stopped us.  Leaning in the driver-side window, he mumbled something I didn’t catch to Casey and pointed to something between the front seats…his gun.  Casey handed him the revolver and the guy contorted a smile, Marlboro to one side now, and said, “I take it everywhere I go.”

Uh, not really, buddy.  If your business were robbed while you were working, your gun would be in the freaking car, idiot.  We drove to a shady spot and said, WTF?  It didn’t even run that well, kind of rough, and so we returned it to the shop.  The owner, now cig-free, shrugged and said, I’ll just keep driving it…  Then why did you run an Ad to Sell it, dolt?

We were more surprised than disappointed, and since we were in the vicinity, I sent a message to another van-owner who lived about 30 miles away in Golconda, IL, a little town that is kind of on our way home.  That van had an impressive FB marketplace ad with lots of pictures.  It was newer, less miles, more bells and whistles, but the owner was very candid about the rust along the running boards. I’d ruled out looking at it because the owner’s asking price was Firm.  How can you deal with someone with a Firm price?  But we were there, so I figured we’d check it out…

“We’re in the area and would like to look at your van. Is it still available?”  I messaged.  The reply:  “You can come by if you want.  It needs a battery and new brakelines and is not driveable.”

Whaa????   What about that Firm price? What the aitch is wrong with people???

We really don’t need a van, you know.   I was just wishing for the Way Things Were; thinking about the days when our old van was full of boy scouts every month (who left a smell of dirty-socks); remembering the family all piled in and heading out on vacations to Shenandoah or South Dakota, or Disney World; picturing when it was “just us” camping at Harmonie and Lincoln State Parks.

Back in the Present, we just shook our heads and steered the Minivan toward Eville, returning via a scenic Southern Illinois route. We tooled along the backroads and enjoyed the conversation and the silence, two old people with a bag of cash, trying to buy back the past…  You live and learn, eh?

Peace

P.S.  Before the pandemic, I took the Jr girls to the mall every Saturday.  Yesterday, eight months after our last visit, we returned…(of course we wore masks inside, though many around here still don’t)

 

 

Posted in The Gardens of Sonnystone...

Growing Every Season

While out walking this morning, I tripped and fell, skinning both knees and my right hand…  I was being so careful, too, because the sidewalk in that area has numerous areas where tree roots have pushed it up.  >sigh<  Yes, yes, I applied ice and am now sitting here with my feet propped up.  So I’m not feeling very wordy today, but I’ve got some nice pictures for you…

The Edible Garden is just lovely…

Cabbage worms attacked the broccoli, so we dusted them with Seven; looks like confectioners sugar on the lacy leaves…

The morning glories finally bloomed!

Out in the Bird/Peace garden,, the coneflower and rudbeckia still attract the goldfinches, so I’m not cutting them back until the birds have had their fill.

Keep on Growing…

Posted in Genealogy of Sonnystone Acres

Sonnystone Saga: Mr. & Mrs. Smith, again…

To celebrate 17 years living at Sonnystone Acres, we are publishing a series of posts chronicling the first three families who lived here, spanning 111 years… This is the thirteenth installment of the series.

My visit to Willard Library produced a plethora of information.  I was looking for the obits of George D., Albion, and George B. Smith, but was unable to find young George’s.  What I did find filled in quite a few gaps of the years and corrected some of my assumptions.

After little Georgie’s death in 1926, the Smiths returned to Evansville and retreated to their country home.  1927 was the first year that the city directory listed their residence as “Stringtown Rd 5 miles out”; prior to then, their address was on Riverside Dr.  I speculate that they kept a place “in town”, though, since George owned the apartment building and still worked at his father-in-law’s store.

What I found on George Davis Smith was not an actual obituary…it was Front Page Lead Story…!!

You couldn’t have any easier research than that. The article is a long one, continued on p. 7 with a picture.   It covers his early life and is essentially the same info I gave you in my last post (Here) .  It does not mention the loss of little Georgie in 1926, but fills in the years after that.

In 1929, the H.E. Bacon Department Store was sold to Woolworths,  after which George and Albion spent about six months in California.   According to the 1930 census, George and Albion, now 44 and 38 respectively, are living here at Sonnystone and George is retired…but not for long.

In late 1930, George joined Harris Upham’s newly-formed Evansville branch and became its manager in 1933.  The brokerage firm had sensational growth under Smith’s management.

A lot of column inches are devoted to stories of George’s pranks…yes, he was an inveterate practical joker, often referred to as “Jokesmith”.  I abhor practical jokes, seriously avoid practical jokers, (even George Clooney) and did not find any of the pranks the least bit funny, though the writer of the article seems to have been very amused.  They were quite elaborate and there were retaliations, so the stunts went on and on.  Not funny to me, but he seems to have been very popular among Eville’s prominent businessmen.

After we started clearing off the back acres here at Sonnystone we came across a slab of concrete with a rusty skeet trap attached.  A skeet trap throws clay pigeons up in the air and shooters try to break them before they fall.  There were more of them scattered around the 20 acres that the Smiths owned.  George was an expert shot and one afternoon at a trap-shooting match with a party of friends here at Sonnystone, he played one of his practical jokes.  While everyone was breaking targets, one fellow, usually a good shot, couldn’t hit the side of a barn.  Later on he found out that George had given instructions that every time it was that guy’s turn they threw aluminum pigeons instead of clay.  very funny…ha ha ha…

But it tells me what Sonnystone was like in those days.  An avid duck and quail hunter, George kept a kennel of fine hunting dogs here.  Between duck and quail season, he hunted possums and coons at night.

Oddly enough for a duck hunter, George loved birds.  He built trail of bird feeding stations around the property and kept them filled with food for his feathered friends.

But what of Albion Smith? Her mother, Albion Fellows Bacon, died in 1933, suddenly of a heart attack.  Her obituary was a mile long, as was the viewing line at the funeral. Shortly after, her father, H.E. Bacon, who was in ill health. moved to Baltimore to live with son, Hilary, Jr., a doctor at Johns Hopkins.  He died there in 1936.

Mrs. Smith’s  obituary was much more cut and dry, but still filled in some gaps.

Quoting from the obit:  “Known as an authority on antique furniture, she had operated a shop in her home at (our address) Stringtown Road.” Later on in the obit: “She was considered an authority on period furniture and her home on Stringtown Road lent itself to the display of the furniture.  She found it simpler and easier to store and sell prints and eventually devoted her time to them.”

So which part of the house “lent itself to the display of furniture”?  It’s a mystery to me, as this house is Not Fancy.  There is no fine woodwork or trims, no classic columns or stairways; it’s a plain country house.  Albion had been raised in opulent Victorian and Edwardian homes and may have even started her shop selling her mother’s furniture, so how this house “lent itself” to display of anything other than primitive or shaker pieces is a mystery…one I continue to investigate.

George and Albion both served on various boards around the city, but were not particularly known for philanthropy and were decidedly not social activists.  They traveled broadly, according to both obits, visiting Europe and Northern Africa.  They spent time in Michigan with Albion’s sister, Joy, and in Maryland with her brother, Hilary.

One story is very telling about the Smiths:  George’s work at Harris Upham was so good that he was offered a promotion to managing the Indianapolis office, the next step on his way to the top.

As the article puts it: “It was a flattering offer, not to be scorned, but sitting on the lawn of his home, surrounded by his dogs, his ears filled with the music of the birds, he decided to reject the offer.  He explained to Mrs. Smith, “What I have here I could never find any other place in the world.”

That’s the way I feel about this place, too.  I knew from the minute I saw it that I had to live here.  I could tell that the house and grounds had been cared for and loved, then let go.  As we’ve done the “archaeology” and discovered areas that appear to have been gardens, spots where it looked like someone kept dogs, and uncovered stone walks that lead to nowhere, I’ve felt the presence of Albion and George urging me to fix it up, make it pretty, invite the birds, and be content.

George Smith died in 1955 and Albion sold the home two years later.  She divided up the 20 acres into parcels, leaving the house with four.  She moved to a home on E. Gum in Evansville.  In 1961 she became ill and went to live with her sister, Joy, in Michigan; she died there in 1962.  She and her two Georges are buried in Oak Hill Cemetery, a spot on my to-visit list.

Having spent her life overshadowed by her famous mother, and having an even more-famous author aunt, I wondered if Mrs. Smith’s obit would also prominently speak of them.  Interestingly, it only gives her mother a line, but devotes an entire paragraph to her Aunt Annie. Her obit does not mention the birth and death of her son, the most important part of her story.

After the Smiths, no family lived here more than four years until 1970 when Max and Candace Casler bought the house.  The Caslers stayed until Max’s death in 2003.  Sadly, the Caslers let the place go downhill during their 33-year tenure.  Next week, I’ll show you some more “before and after” pictures.

Stay tuned…

Posted in 2020, Weekly Wrap-Up

Sunday Report

What a week!  We spent a couple of days cleaning up the travel trailer, returning it to its default appearance and taking out all of our personal items.  When we finished, I was amazed that it looked so brand-new—even smelled new!   We were starting to get cold feet and discussed keeping it, but we figured it probably wouldn’t sell right away, so Thursday we put out the “For Sale” sign.

Thursday just happened to be the 39th birthday of my son, Michael.

my son’s FB profile pic

He worked a long day, so we decided to celebrate on Saturday.

By Friday, we’d had a couple of calls and texts re: the trailer and one lady made an appointment for 5:30pm to tour it.  Well, wouldn’t you know?  The couple bought the trailer, full price..!  We were stunned.  Saturday morning, the gentleman brought us a stack of cash and drove our Retirement Dream out the Driveway.  Crazy, huh?

While Casey was giving the new owner a walk-through and helping him load and hook up, the Jrs. were here for the birthday celebration.  Michael and Jessica ate lunch with us and returned home, leaving the kiddos here to play.

After we took the girls home, Casey and I were feeling a little down…  We walked Memory Lane, casting our mind back to the trips we’d taken, laughing at our mistakes and marveling at how much we learned.

We talked about the places we’ve visited and the places we’d like to go; discussed buying another trailer, too.  I didn’t expect to feel so sad…but then, I didn’t expect it to sell so quickly…

Weirdly enough, yesterday was Derby Day and I had been preparing all week.  I won a little change betting the fillies in the Oaks on Friday, but the Derby always overwhelms me, even in September.  I chose my usual half-the-field, but managed to bet the top two ponies…!

I wore a hat, drank the bourbon, won some money…

but it just made me more nostalgic.

As Summer wanes and Autumn waxes, it seems a proper time to feel sentimental.  We’ve got two “pool days” planned for next week before the temperatures drop, then it’s time to take it down.  Much of the vegetable garden is ready to be pulled up.  Migratory birds are joining our residents at the feeders, a sure sign that it’s time to change.

So that’s what we do, isn’t it?  Gently carrying pieces of our past, we move hopefully into our future…

Peace

Posted in The Gardens of Sonnystone...

Growing Every Season

Six Months Ago, we started planting and I began to post a weekly log of how our gardens have grown.   You can read all of the posts Here .  As the season comes to an end, I’m wrapping up that blog and folding it into my Main Blog — the one you’re reading now!  It’s great to compare the beginnings and the ends, so in case you don’t feel up to reading through two dozen blog entries, here’s a couple of Before and After photos.

Journal Entry #24

The Edible garden is winding down and I’m ready to remove the zucchinis, the cucumbers, and a couple of the peppers.  It has sure been a rainy growing season and my allergies have been severe.

The broccoli and green beans will soon have the run of the garden and they’re rising to the occasion.

Garlic Chive and marigolds are competing with the sunflowers for prettiest blooms…

Out in the Peace/Bird Garden, the daisies that I want to move look lousy and I’m ready to move them as soon as possible.  The birds have spent a fair amount of time gnawing on the coneflowers and rudbeckia, so they’re getting pretty scraggly.  Soon enough, though, the mums will be blooming…I hope.

 

I’ve got a full two days of work that needs to be done in all of the gardens, but it just keeps Raining… The weatherman says it’s going to dry up and cool down and I hope he’s right.  Of course, when I get that done, there will undoubtedly be another couple of days of work and on and on until Jack Frost arrives and this season moves over to make way for the next…

Keep on Growing…