Credit: Replacements, Ltd.
Corn Butterer with Silverplate Bowl in "Joan of Arc" (Sterling 1940)
by International Silver
by International Silver
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
"Flying Horses by Miriam E. Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
“Riddle me this,” the master of ceremonies shouted to those gathered in front of the carousel. “What runs on the wind, but offers no echo … has no wings, but flies round the round?”
“Riddle me this,” the master of ceremonies shouted to those gathered in front of the carousel. “What runs on the wind, but offers no echo … has no wings, but flies round the round?”
“Flying horses,” the crowd responded with a rousing cheer and laughter.
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| Click HERE for Wikipedia's "Carousel" Entry |
“’Tis true, ‘tis true!” he agreed. “Now it’s time for the riders to mount their steeds and hope upon hope to finish the deed. The first to snare the burning ring shall earn his chance of love to sing.”
“Huzzah!” the crowd roared in approval.
Liam, and each of the other single men that milled about, hoped to be lucky. They needed to capture the iron ring suspended on an arm of the carousel as they sped past it on their wooden mount. The ring, blazing hot, would brand the hand that grasped it with the image of a cavorting horse. The branding would mark the man as eligible to marry.
“Mount up, mount up! The race is on!” cried the barker.
The men moved quickly to claim one of the intricately carved horses. Suspended on chains, the horses appeared to dance on the fringe of the carousel. Gilded and gaily painted, each horse was a work of beauty. Liam had garnered the striking black stallion, the crowd’s favorite, as his own.
A team of horses was tethered to arms radiating from the carousel. They provided the power that allowed the riders to soar. The handlers of these horses urged their charges first to a walk, then to a canter. The carousel began to rotate.
The carved horses and riders swayed in the wind. As the handlers coaxed their charges into a full gallop, the speed of the carousel increased. The riders lifted higher and shifted outward toward the crowd, pulled by centrifugal force. Flying horses, indeed.
“Round and round they go, who claims the ring, nobody knows!” intoned the emcee.
The carousel turned faster and faster. The crowd was delighted. Eager hands reached for the burning iron ring. Liam leaned out from his precarious perch on his stallion and found purchase on the ring. A delicious, searing pain engulfed his hand. The ring and brand were his! “Huzzah! Huzzah!” the crowd cheered with approval.
"Round and round the young men went with the black stllion heaven bent. Huzzah, youn Liam, may your future be bright and filled to overflowing with love's glorious ligt!" the master of ceremonies joyfully concluded.
"Round and round the young men went with the black stllion heaven bent. Huzzah, youn Liam, may your future be bright and filled to overflowing with love's glorious ligt!" the master of ceremonies joyfully concluded.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
"The Garden -- Good Eats"
CJ's most favorite garden photo ever:
White caterpillar feasting on a Black-Eyed Susan flower.
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Photo Credit: C.J. Alexander Yes, it's real! |
"1894 Backdoor Visitor by Miriam E. Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
The knock on the screen door came as a surprise. Mama Tidwell wasn’t expecting any visitors and she was busy shaking pans to feed the family. Her grandchildren were hearty eaters and demanded good food after a hard day’s work. Still, a brief rest for her weary feet and a hot mug of chic’ry would be a welcomed distraction. She shuffled over to the door to discover her guest’s identity.
The knock on the screen door came as a surprise. Mama Tidwell wasn’t expecting any visitors and she was busy shaking pans to feed the family. Her grandchildren were hearty eaters and demanded good food after a hard day’s work. Still, a brief rest for her weary feet and a hot mug of chic’ry would be a welcomed distraction. She shuffled over to the door to discover her guest’s identity.
Mama was startled to see a tall white man standing on her stoop. She didn’t get many white visitors. Once in a while an itinerant preacher would stop by to try to share the Good Word, but she was already saved, thank you. Mayhap this man was a preacher, but she didn’t think so. He didn’t have that wild look in his eyes like the others.
“Evenin’,” the man said when he saw her approaching the door.
“Evenin’,” Mama responded. Experience had taught her to be cautious.
“I’s an agent for Sheriff Pickett. I’d like to talk to you ‘bout the ‘lection what’s comin’ up.”
Mama indicated the empty rocker near the kitchen table and invited the man to sit with a nod of her head. What was she to do? Here was a strange white man wantin’ to talk to her. Not much choice in the matter.
“The Sheriff feels that he can do a lot more good when he’s re’lected. Now, he’s countin’ on your man to do his part to make sure that happens. There’s a nice silver dollar waitin’ for him when he casts his vote for the Sheriff,” the man promised.
That man’s smile so oily it ‘mos slipped off’n his face, Mama thought.
“We ‘ppreciate the offer, but he be backin’ Jimson Davis come the ‘lection,”
Mama said in her calm and quiet manner.
“Surely you don’ think that boy’s a better choice than Sheriff Pickett?” the white man sputtered.
Mama Tidwell shifted her large body in the old kitchen chair so that she faced her visitor. She studied him intently. “No means no ‘roun these parts,” were the only words she granted him. Her visitor rose and strode angrily out the screen door, letting it slap back into place with a crack like gunshot.
“Umm, umm, umm,” Mama murmured. After rising, she turned her back and with a shake of her grey head resumed her position in front of the cookstove.
*******
"The 50 Greatest American Civil War Names"
Retrieved: January 28, 2015
“47. George Pickett – It’s a good enough name for a Southern general, but we remember it mainly for that disastrous charge at Gettysburg that bears his name.
1. Shellanna Marvilla Holt Tidwell – They named her shell-anna because shells from the siege of Atlanta nearly ended her life before it began. Already named Shellanna Marvilla Holt, she had the good sense to marry a man named Tidwell, giving us the best name of the era. Thank you, Ms. Holt Tidwell. We’re in your debt.”
The U.S. Morgan Dollar
Retrieved: January 28, 2015
Morgan Dollar -- Minted 1878-1904, 1921
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| Obverse |
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| Reverse |
"Voting Rights Act"
Retrieved: January 28, 2015
The Voting Rights Act is a historic civil rights law that is meant to ensure that the right to vote is not denied on account of race or color.
1866
Civil Rights Act of 1866 grants citizenship, but not the right to vote, to all native-born Americans.
1869
Congress passes the Fifteenth Amendment giving African American men the right to vote.
1896
Louisiana passes "grandfather clauses" to keep former slaves and their descendants from voting. As a result, registered black voters drops from 44.8% in 1896 to 4.0% four years later. Mississippi, South Carolina, Alabama and Virginia follow Louisiana's lead by enacting their own grandfather clauses.
Monday, August 29, 2016
"Forward! by Miriam E. Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
The U.S. Army corporal prepared to mount his horse. He performed a quick check of the animal before taking the saddle. The blanket, worn thin from months of riding, sat squarely on the mare’s back. The saddle was in place and cinched so that it was snug on the horse.
The U.S. Army corporal prepared to mount his horse. He performed a quick check of the animal before taking the saddle. The blanket, worn thin from months of riding, sat squarely on the mare’s back. The saddle was in place and cinched so that it was snug on the horse.
He noted with dismay the jutting ribs of the mare. Half rations for both man and beast had reduced them to mere bags of bones. It was a wonder that she was able to continue to carry him. He was thankful, however, that he was not compelled to walk as were the Cherokees on this forced relocation to Indian Territory.
As an Army conductor, it was his duty to shepherd those marching along the trail that led to their new home. He was familiar with the privation all suffered. Lack of adequate food, clothing, and shelter took a heavy toll on the tribes he ferried.
They were approaching an especially difficult part of the trail. The Cherokees called it Nu na da ul tsun yi, “the Place Where they Cried.” It was here that many white settlers witnessed the silent, stoical faces of the people as they passed through their ancestral lands along the “Trail of Tears.” The tears were found not on those being forcibly relocated, but on the cheeks of some witnesses to the death march.
The conductor swung up into his saddle. He took his position at the rear of the column of unfortunates and began to prod them onward.
One very old woman was near to the end of the group. The conductor could see that she was struggling to keep up with the others. A younger woman had wound a leather thong around her waist and tied it to the older woman. The women were bound together, step matching step as they crossed the rough terrain.
The conductor watched as the younger woman sought to encourage her elder first with soft words and then a more strident tone. The old woman continued to slow and finally collapsed into the mud.
The corporal rode alongside the women. “Agayáli unitsi igáyiditlá anigisdi,” “Old mother, forward,” the conductor begged in his rudimentary Cherokee. He received no response from the old woman.
Putting steel into his voice that he did not feel, the conductor commanded the younger woman “igáyiditlá anigisdi,” “forward.” She stared into his eyes as she untied the thong from around her waist and let it drop into the mud. Turning his horse’s head he motioned her on as they left the old woman to die where she fell.
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| Click HERE to View Wikipedia's Entry on the "Trail of Tears" |
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Revisited -- "The Starmaker by Miriam E. Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
High in the clear night sky, perched on a sliver of the moon, the Starmaker labors. She fashions stars from bits of dreams and glimmers from the moon. She arranges her completed stars on the blue velvet of night.
High in the clear night sky, perched on a sliver of the moon, the Starmaker labors. She fashions stars from bits of dreams and glimmers from the moon. She arranges her completed stars on the blue velvet of night.
Far below, admirers nod their heads in the Earth-bound fields. They hug their knees and marvel at the beauty and cleverness of the Starmaker’s creations.
Peering down, the Starmaker considers which of the watchers will recognize and embrace the promise of her ambition. She turns and shapes another star. She dips her fingers into the blue blue coolness of the forever sky. She snares a bit of whimsy and works to form the possible.
She studies the completed bit of wonder that she holds in her hand. The gossamer star appears unsubstantial on her initial inspection. The seemingly delicate strands are actually as finely wrought as bands of gold. The incandescent orb vibrates with the glow of a blend of orange, yellow, and other rich hues. She recognizes a prize of great value.
Settling back upon her heels she contemplates the uniqueness of her latest star. She’s imbued it with grace and beauty. She breathes a sigh onto the star to lend it the vigor of hope itself. Complete with these gifts, whoever holds the luminary will cradle a miracle within their hands.
The Starmaker kneels upon the very rim of the moon and gently releases her newest gift into the inkiness of the night sky. She watches as the star tumbles down a path to those waiting in the fields. A brilliant green streak marks the star’s passage to Earth. Too quickly, the sky fades to darkness once again.
One of the watchers witnesses the star’s descent and rushes to claim the prize for herself. She bends and gently plucks the star from the verdant field. A caressing peacefulness fills the watcher’s heart as the star’s secrets resonate within her. Her soul affirms the covenant offered by the Starmaker’s spark.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
"The Garden -- A Place for the Soul"
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| Photo Credit: CJ Alexander----- A section of CJ's garden |
"The garden is a proper place of the soul,
where the concerns of the soul for beauty, contemplation,
quiet and observance take complete precedence
over the busier concerns of daily life."
- Thomas Moore, The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life
"The Christmas Goose by Miriam E. Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
Lemon Blush was a shy cat and making new friends was always a challenge for her. Awkward introductions and silences often resulted when she made the attempt to include someone new in her world. It was easier to avoid the problem whenever possible. It was lonelier, but certainly easier.
Lemon Blush was a shy cat and making new friends was always a challenge for her. Awkward introductions and silences often resulted when she made the attempt to include someone new in her world. It was easier to avoid the problem whenever possible. It was lonelier, but certainly easier.
She felt adventurous this bright winter’s morning and decided to introduce herself to the Christmas visitor. The cat knew it to be a goose. She had seen others when they landed on the pond outside the library’s windows. She envied their elegant appearance and graceful ballet as they fell and rose from the pond’s surface.
She feigned disinterest as she studied the goose while lounging in the dust-dappled sunshine streaming in through the window. A festive red ribbon adorned the goose’s black and tan body. Its face was a mask of black and cream with just a hint of tan at its temples. Unlike those other geese, a small saddle hugged her potential new playmate, empty and awaiting a rider. The goose, she realized, was not leaving with all of the other seasonal visitors.
Lemon Blush flicked her tail and reached forward from a safe distance to gently swat at the edge of the Christmas goose’s bottom. The velvety pads on her paws brushed the visitor’s surprisingly hard body. It was a friendly tap, intended to spark a bit of conversation. The newcomer responded with an easy to-and-fro rocking. How delightful.
Intrigued, Lemon Blush stole a few steps closer to her potential new friend. The goose was no longer rocking as she slowly circled it. Her body was tensed, ready to flee at the earliest hint of danger. Lemon Blush peered into the stoical face of the goose, anticipating some sharp response. None came. How odd.
Emboldened, she reached out, this time tapping the goose on its black beak. Once again she was rewarded with motion by the goose. Fascinating.
Lemon Blush stepped closer to the odd creature. When she encountered no resistance, she rubbed her shoulders and head along the length of the goose’s body. Now, marked with her scent, the little goose once again began to rock.
Satisfied, Lemon Blush mounted the goose’s back and curled herself into a cozy ring of fur in the saddle.
"Crochet -- FREE -- 10 Amazing Free Crochet Edging Patterns"
Credit:
Click on the Image or Link to Discover 10 Interesting & FREE Crochet Edgings!
Friday, August 26, 2016
"Flash Fiction -- Newspaper Annie by Miriam E. Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
The newsstand, a collection of weathered boards, leaned precariously against the side of a downtown business. It was an eyesore, but its operator and her newspapers were beloved elements of the city. She had occupied the same space for over 30 years, setting up shop at the close of the last “great” war.
She was a constant for her customers, always present when they stopped by on their morning trek into the city.
The newsstand, a collection of weathered boards, leaned precariously against the side of a downtown business. It was an eyesore, but its operator and her newspapers were beloved elements of the city. She had occupied the same space for over 30 years, setting up shop at the close of the last “great” war.
The old woman bent to retrieve a fresh newspaper from the stack beside her chair as Eleanor exited the bus in front of the newsstand. Like countless others, she often stopped to exchange a few friendly words with the old woman.
“Hello sweetness!” the old woman greeted her. “How are you on this glorious morning?”
Eleanor smiled as she warmed at the familiar greeting. “Happy to be alive,” she replied. “Did you save a paper for me?”
“But, of course dearie. You’re one of my favorites and it wouldn’t do to have you go without one.”
Their daily encounter lasted only a moment, but Eleanor treasured it. She worried about “Newspaper Annie.” She often wondered how the old woman could endure the harsh winters and blistering summers ensconced in that weather-beaten pile of boards. She felt compassion for Annie and her apparent need to continue to peddle her papers. The old woman must be in a desperate situation to continue her vigil so late in her life.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eleanor promised Annie.
“I’ll be here waiting for you, as always,” the old woman replied with a toothy smile that lit her face and accentuated the lines around her eyes.
A headline visible above the fold on a nearby stack of unclaimed newspapers drew Eleanor’s attention. “Heroine’s Promise Fulfilled.” With disbelieving eyes she read “The loss of Annie Engel saddens the citizens of this grateful city. Annie’s quiet mission of providing for countless war widows with the proceeds of her newspaper sales will forever be remembered.”
Thursday, August 25, 2016
"A Peek at My Pottery Collection"
Pictured is another quirky corner of my home ... the pottery collection is in a corner of the kitchen over a pie safe I built from a kit. The collection is a mix of pieces from potter Dean White, "Blueberry" pieces from Salmon Falls Stoneware, a few pieces of Polish pottery, Syracuse China, and what have you.
The two plates peeking into the frame on the right are in the "Mandarin Blue" pattern by Wedgewood China. The pattern dates from the 1870s.
If you look closely you can see two brass cow bells -- one smooth and the other embossed "1878 Saignelegier ... Chantel Fondeur." The bell may be an original issue or a modern reproduction. This one may be original because it is quite heavy, deeply embossed, and milled on the rim.
"Happiness ... -- John Barrymore"
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Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Monday, August 22, 2016
"August 22, 2016 -- ... the Heart ... -- Zelda Fitzgerald"
Picture Credits: "Gerbera Daisies"
commons.wikimedia.org
mvg222.blogspot.com
portal,ambiental.com.ar
flickr.com
"The Quilt -- Miriam E, Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
Miriam moved toward the last quilt in the show. It had caught her eye when she first entered the room. She had been slowly making her way through the displays to stand in front of it.
Miriam moved toward the last quilt in the show. It had caught her eye when she first entered the room. She had been slowly making her way through the displays to stand in front of it.
“How I wish that I could achieve something so breathtakingly beautiful! It’s a constellation of stars within stars!” were the thoughts that occurred to her as she regarded the piece.
She saw that the points of each star were sharp and centered. She examined each block and found them to be balanced. With an almost envious appraisal she noted the delicate hand quilting in the form of swirls, feathers, and flowers. “Exquisite,” Miriam thought.
As she admired the fine workmanship of the piece, her mind began a slow dance back to another day, to another quilt. In her mind’s eye she watched as the stars began to whirl around and around and around, taking her back into the arms of yesterday’s love.
The wedding chamber was lit by the soft glow from the fireplace. The bridal quilt, crafted by loving hands, was laid across the bed. Her mother and aunts had worked for months creating the quilt for this special night, her first as a married woman.
“Miriam,” her new husband called to her. “We only have these few hours before my leave is over,” he said. “Come and be with me.” So she did.
Morning came too soon. Miriam’s husband brushed the tears from her cheek and gathered her into his arms. “It’s bittersweet leaving you like this,” he whispered into her hair. “It won’t be long before I’ll come back to you,” he promised as the newlyweds said their sad goodbyes.
He’d kept his word. She cradled the folded flag she’d been given in recognition of his sacrifice. Miriam opened the cedar chest and gently laid the flag upon her wedding quilt. The lid caught with a soft click as she closed it on the conclusion of her married life.
Miriam turned from the quilt with a small shake of her head and a breath of a sigh. She moved with a leaden heart toward the exhibit hall’s exit.
"Fabulous Finds -- Mouli Grater"
Classic French cookware and gadgets are among CJ's prized possessions, like this genuine Mouli cheese grater - an engineering marvel - found at a local thrift shop for a dollar. It grates hard cheese better than anything else on the market.
Eggplant-from-the-garden Parmesan for dinner....yummy!
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"Lemon Dish -- Miriam E. Waters"
by Miriam E. Waters
I recently discovered that there is a piece of dinnerware devoted to the serving of lemon slices – a “Lemon Dish.” I tried to research this odd little dish, but had no success in learning the origins or practices associated with the dish.
I searched an online auction site for antique or vintage pieces and discovered a wide variety of an item that I didn’t know existed. I discovered a bevy of dishes made from china and glass.
The dishes were usually round with a hook that curled towards the center of the dish. Some were gilded and many were hand decorated with delicate flowers.
It’s a quaint idea … reserving a special dish for such an unusual purpose.
I was thrilled a few days ago to find a heavy cut glass “Lemon Dish” for sale at a retirement village. I arrived late in the day and found the little beauty overlooked and mixed in with a collection of other leftovers. I asked the elderly woman selling the piece if she knew whether it was indeed a “Lemon Dish” and she admitted that she didn’t know. I knew. What else could it be?
I took my treasure home and hand-washed it. Once cleaned, the little dish beamed with light refracting off its’ many cut surfaces. I haven’t discovered a place for it yet, but I may have to begin collecting other “Lemon Dishes” to keep my beautiful oddity company.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
"Good Works Ministry's August 15, 2016 Meeting Update"
LB once again shared bounty from her garden. She brought zucchini, peppers, and sweet sweet sweet cherry tomatoes.
JP continued knitting booties … lovely in white.
LB completed the body of her "golden" lapghan. Next up ... the border.
MG continued working on a baby hat in soft pastels.
MEW shared two completed personal projects ... a "bulky" throw worked up in shades of teal and a lighter "bulky" throw in shades reminiscent of autumn ... orange, greens, and tan.
MG continued working on a baby hat in soft pastels.
MEW shared two completed personal projects ... a "bulky" throw worked up in shades of teal and a lighter "bulky" throw in shades reminiscent of autumn ... orange, greens, and tan.
NOTE: Due to the Labor Day holiday, the group will not meet on Monday; September 5, 2016. The next meeting of the group will be held on TBD from 1:00 to 3:00 PM … hope you can join us!
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