Martha Ann

I went to Martha Ann’s funeral yesterday. The church was packed, as it should have been. It was nearly impossible for me to comprehend that my vibrant, busy, inquisitive, frugal, perceptive, and sometimes bossy friend was lying still in the coffin underneath the white pall.

If Martha Ann had been around during WWII, men would have called her a “great Dame.” Whenever I think of Martha Ann, I think of that movie, “The Unsinkable Molly Brown.” That’s just how Martha Ann was.

She was a no-nonsense, plain-speaking, jean-clad lighting contractor with ruddy cheeks and tousled hair. Until recently, she seemed far younger to me than her actual age of 66. Nothing intimidated Martha Ann; she was utterly confident in her own abilities. She was forgiving of foibles in both herself and others. She never held a grudge.

Martha Ann had a deep commitment to her community. She was the No. 1 Portsmouth, Virginia cheerleader ever. She saw things as they should have been, not as they were, even though she was a realist. But she wasn’t just one of those folks who criticized everything and sat at home with her folded hands in her lap. Not Martha Ann, not ever. She would work like a dog to see that change was effected, whether to was going to Richmond to successfully change state vacant house code or running for Mayor.

Martha Ann was also a person of deep faith. This sustained her through very tough times; the death of her daughter as a young adult, a terrible motor vehicle accident that left her knees in constant pain, a divorce, having her Victorian house flood twice, and battling breast and then bone cancer.

My dear friend, there will never be anyone else like you. I can’t bear to think of City Council meetings without seeing you in your old familiar place. I don’t want to think of Saturday mornings without your phone calls or my life without your sage advice. How can you be gone?

http://hamptonroads.com/2010/09/portsmouth-activist-martha-ann-creecy-dies-66

Thank You, Jenene

I love all my peeps over at Goodwill.  Donna's Mom, Jenene, lives out of state, but follows my blog.  She is in the process of down-sizing.    And so, this beautiful girl, which belonged to Jenene, is now living at 256!    Specifically, she lives in Piper's room, the little bedroom where my niece stays.  The fan the doll holds belonged to my wonderful friend, Hester.  Jenene is moving here soon.  I can't wait to get to know her.  In the meantime, thanks - thanks a bunch!

Digital Impressionsim

Van Gogh - Wheatfield

Annie - Sea Grass

Rescue, Virginia

Please enjoy these wonderful old time-y pictures of a community along the water:  Rescue, Virginia.   Think way back when is just, well, way back when and places like this don't exist anymore?

Surprise!  I took these this morning less than a half hour from my house!

I Dig Graveyards

I actually said that to a client who called while I was exploring the graveyard surrounding Kinsgston Chapel in Mathews, Virginia. I wasn’t trying to be funny, I just said it, with no irony in mind at all.

My Dad got me started on loving graveyards. I don’t see them as being macabre, sad, or scary. Graveyards are tangible history we can examine for ourselves outside of a book.

Years ago, Dad told me about an ancient burying ground in downtown Hartford that had been enclosed by buildings as time went by. You entered into the graveyard through an office building. Graves dated back to the 1600’s. One poignant pair of headstones from that era captured my fancy: a husband who died at sea and a wife who “drowned in her tears” a month later.

Grace’s graveyard was completely different from that hidden spot surrounded by hustle, bustle, traffic, and office workers hurrying to lunch or back to their offices. Here, there was utter peace, simply the sounds of the wind soughing in the old growth trees, the faint sound of the water, birds twittering, and the occasional plop of a falling pecan. It was a final resting place in every sense of the term.

Trees soared over my head, leaves fluttered bright green, the blue sky was the background and the sun filtered through it all.

The water flowed past, as it has for a thousand years and, no doubt, will continue for a thousand more. There was just peace, blessed peace.

When peace like a river attendeth my way

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well with my soul.

Dilly Dally Emporium

I met the nicest woman on my trip to Mathews.  Karyn owns a magical shop called "The Dilly Dally Emporium."  She is a kindred spirit, also from Connecticut originally and my exact age.  No wonder I loved her shop. Isn't that just the best name, "The Dilly Dally Emporium?"  Being a great dilly dally-er, the name resonates with me.

The Dilly Dally has a gorgeous selection of one-of-a-kind jewelry pieces. There were several that greatly tempted me. I am partial to unusual jewelry, especially necklaces and earrings.   There were all manner of pampering lotions and bath-related items.  I bought an airy, beautiful Battenberg lace parasol that I'll share with you later.

Look at Karyn's marvelous Autumn "Christmas" tree., shown below  What a clever idea!  Wouldn't it be amazing to start a tradition of decorating one after the back to school rush and then change it over the day after Thanksgiving to a Christmas theme, as you eat turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce and stuffing on the side?    

I fell in love with this sweet girl below.  She reminded me of some wig stands my mother had in the sixties.  That was when every fashionista worth her salt had a "fall" or a wig to augment her own hair.  She's sort of a 1920 flapper meets the sixties beauty, isn't she?  I simply loved this little vignette.  I greatly appreciate a shop owner who takes the time to create pleasing displays.  It sparks my own creativity.

As they say in Hawaii, Karyn and I "talked story" for quite a while.  Isn't that the best expression, talk story?  The companion pigeon English expression for gossiping about someone is referred to as "talk stink."  Maybe if people admitted that they were "talking stink" they'd do it less.

Do you remember the advertising jingle, "You can trust your car, to the man who wears the star?"  Texaco advertised this way for years and the employees had the Texaco Star on their uniforms.    I think the Dilly Dally's building used to be a service station, take a look at this vintage logo built into the building.    Those were the days when business owners expected to be in the same location for a while.

You can find Dilly Dally at 200 Main Street in Mathews, VA, if you happen to be out that way.  The phone number is 804-725-0955..  As Karyn's quicky business card says, it is "4,000 square feet of the tastefully unusual"...my kind of place.

Signs of Autumn

Don’t you think the vintage pitcher and matching glasses are sweet? I picked them up at a vintage store on my weekend adventure to Matthews County, VA.  They seemed so “Daisy Cottage Kim” to me http://deardaisycottage.typepad.com/ and were reasonably priced. They had to find a new home at 256.

Happily, it is cool enough to sit at the old table on the front porch once again and have breakfast. This morning, I sipped my chai tea, poured some orange juice from the vintage green pitcher, and enjoyed a sweet onion poppy seed bagel with cream cheese.

This is the literal “view from 256” where I can sit in my pj’s early of a morning, hidden behind the veil of a trumpet vine that conceals me from everyone else. There are old growth trees hundreds of feet high in front of me. Birds nest in the vine. They’ve grown accustomed to me and flit about totally unimpressed.

Signs of Autumn abound, whatever the calendar may say. While driving this weekend, I saw two flame-colored trees amidst the sea of green. I hear the announcer calling Greyhounds’ football games. The notes of the marching band travel all the way back to my front porch.

A Norfolk Southern train horn (did you know they used to be called “steam trumpets?”) sounds and then a few minutes later, another whistle announces the arrival or departure of the ferry, depending on which half hour it is. That ferry has been in operation since the 1600’s; I find this continuity very pleasing. These are the fall sounds of my town, those sounds that first charmed me when I moved here at just this time of year.

Are you seeing Autumn yet?

Mathew's County, Virginia

Richardson's Restaurant on Church Street in Mathews County, VA is a destination, not the kind of place you happen upon.  Happen upon it I did, however, and had tasty lunch, tastier and more upscale than I was expecting.  It is located in this old drugstore.

 
I wondered about listing an emetic and a potion said to decrease sexual desire on the walls, but Richardsons was, after all, a drugstore.

The ceiling is punched tin and an old Coke cooler is stationed at the front door, just like the one I mentioned here.
http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8460671788820411538&postID=4183534100551370760

 Mathews County is located in the Middle Peninsula of VA, about an hour's drive from my house and light years away from here.  Think Mayberry and you'll be close.

The lunch couner with the chrome-edged bar stools looks to be original.   I had one of the most extraordinary Cobb salads ever, and I am picky about Cobb salad.  I also ordered crab puppies, a crab cake in the shape of a hush puppy.  It was an explosion of spicy, crabby goodness.

Black Beauty

I would hazard a guess that I'm the only person in my town with a horse's bridle mounted on the downstairs bathroom wall.  That bathroom is sort of "cowboy chic," if you will.  I love finding fun things to put in there to play up the Old West feel.

Look at this handsome fellow I found over the weekend.  He sits on a ledge above the stall shower.

Flexibility

Today I learned a lot about flexibility. I’m a great one to make plans and not bounce back well when they don’t work out the way that I thought that they should. It is all about needing to have control, one of the least attractive things about me.

Off I went with my little plans to go to Starbucks with my dogs. It wasn’t too hot today, so I could go back to sitting outside with Lulu and Little Bit. Then I was going to go to a nationwide chain grocery store to pick up fresh fruits and vegetables. Loaded up the dogs. Check. Got the vente three equal six pump sugar free cinnamon dolce latte. Check. Greeted my Starbucks peeps. Check. Got said dogs settled down. Check.

And then the best-laid plans began to unravel. Someone else brought an aggressive dog. I tried to move the table out of the sun and the leg fell off. An older man with a rather loose grip on reality invaded my space and made me feel uncomfortable. I left.

I decide to drink my latte in the car and drive through some neighborhoods that I enjoy. I saw the idyllic scene you see below.

Took a walk with the doggies and saw this and that. They liked it better than Starbucks and so did I.

The pictures above are why they call it Waterview.

And then I found my vegetables from Charles Nixon’s stand here:

And brought home the vegetables here:

Many plans are in a man's mind, but it is the Lord's purpose for him that will stand.  Proverbs 19:21          

Green Glass

My dining room is green, designed to highight the green ivy Franciscanware which once belonged to my parents.  If you're very observant, you might have noticed that the Ricardo's used the very same pattern.  Can you pick out Lucy's china on my buffet?  

(pic courtesy of Vintage Memorabilia Shop (http://www.imcrazyforlucy.com/cart/agora.cgi?cart_id=172470.1686*Nk2mP0&product=kitchen)

That's my father on his pony in the green framed picture and my special green tea cup from when I was little on the same shelf.

A relative got me started with collecting green glass when she gave me the wonderful canister you see pictured on the top shelf,  far right.  Although it says "flour" on the front, it was used to pack potato salad for picnics during fishing trips near Hay Springs, Nebraska.  The canister was pulled from a wicker picnic basket stowed in a black and white 1954 Chevy Belaire like this one.  Right next to the fishing poles.  Everyone felt lucky if Eric didn't get car sick.

There was the potato salad, egg salad sandwiches, and a big cooler of home-brewed ice tea.  Dessert was pumpkin pie.  Later fried, breaded bullhead or perch was lovingly cooked by Grandma Fodge.  Eric would cry when she'd make creamed peas.  Eric went on to become a champion power lifter in Nebraska and finally stopped crying when people took his picture.

Since then, the green glass collection in various shades has grown, mostly with help from very reasonable Goodwill purchases.  When the light hits my green glass in the morning, I see jewels of peridot, emerald, and citrine.  Yesterday I relocated a picture from the other side of the dining room to a new spot above the buffet.  The colors in the picture enhance the colors of the glass. 

Goodwill Chic - The Hall of Mirrors

Okay maybe it isn't this Hall of Mirrors in the palace at Versailles, but it makes me about as happy as eating cake did for Marie Antoinette.  Uh, while she was still able to eat cake, that is.

I have been collecting various things for this wall dating back to 12 years ago and really concentrating on getting it ready to go for the last six months.  My inspiration was partially Daisy Cottage Kim's red painted mirrors and partially pictures in my decorating books. 

Most of the items came from Goodwill.  All were under $5.  They ranged in color or finish from plain wood to metal to really ugly 1970's gold plastic, in the case of the the two large, oval mirrors.    I still have a few spots to fill in here and there.  These small areas will be the hardest to fill, as I'll have to keep a sharp eye out for the right size and shape.

It was really hard to take one pic which would do the whole wall justice. This area encloses the stairwell, so I had to try to convey the look by taking a few, graduated shots.

I want to....

I want to run over to this store on the corner and pull a cold Coke in a bottle out of a water-bath red cooler. 

I will ask Stanley Roman, the white-aproned butcher who owns the store, to give me 2 pounds of ground sirloin.  He will wrap it up in brown paper tied with skinny red and white string pulled from a dispenser hanging over his head.   Mr. Roman will lean across a spotlessly clean real butcher block to hand me this little package. My grandmother will make it into meatballs for spaghetti sauce.

 I want to put two little cans of white shoepeg corn , the meat, two Twinkies, and some Bon Ami cleanser into my red basket.  Mr. Roman will put this on my grandmother's account and bill her at the end of the month.  I want to see horehound and rock candy for sale near the cash register in clear glass jars with chrome tops. 

I want to walk home to 23 Wind Road  in red sneakers, a white skirt, and a white sailor top with red and blue trim.  I'd like to be able to hand the grocery bag to my grandmother.   Then we'll go  to Bride Tierney's next door to have a "nice cup of tea."

I want it to be 1968 and I look forward to school starting again at Sunset Ridge.  I want to play with my Barbies, pet Ginger the cat, and get some donuts at Fred Yankus' bakery in Hartford after Mass.  Dad and I don't tell Mom that we do this and wipe the incriminating powdered sugar from our lips in the rear-view mirror.

Well, I can still have a nice cup of tea in the cup I used way back then.  I think I'll go do that.

The market pictured was actually in an historic neigbhorhood in Raleigh, NC, where Bruce and I recently took a day trip.  But in my mind's eye, it can be right back in Connecticut, in 1968, where there was once a similar place. 

More Thrift Love - Goodwill Find

I've been looking for a trunk to put at the foot of my bed for years.  I found a wonderful old trunk at my FANTASTIC Portsmouth Goodwill (Hi Angela, Donna, Donna's mother, Rose, etc.  Please log on and comment!) 

The finish on this vintage trunk was a bit beat up.  It was more expensive than what I usually buy at $40.  However, upon investigation on the Internet, I learned that it was made by Klein Brothers of Long Island City, NY, a part of the borough of Queens in New York City. 

The Kleins were Hungarian immigrants who arrived via Ellis Island in the 1890's.  Sadly, this family firm went out of business durin The Depression in 1936.  The trunk's interior is cedar-lined.   I actually remembered to take before and after pictures, too!  I usually get so excited to start my project that I totally forget the before picture. 

The old linen on the top of the trunk in the "after" picture once belonged to my beloved friend (now in heaven) Hester.   She, like many women of her era, had some lovely (what I think they used to call) "bridge cloths."  Well anyway, my grandmother called them that because she played bridge. 

I think Hester used these vintage table linens when she entertained her Pittsburgh Presbyterian church ladies.  I imagine her now reunited with these old friends having a bit of a gossip in heaven over good coffee and some Panera pecan rolls.  

Or  maybe she and her Portsmouth friend Grant Creekmore are up in heaven having liver and onions the way they used to at Mama Jean's, when they'd straighten out all the problems at St. John's during lunch.  I think Grant Creekmore has to be the definitive patrician Old South old lady name, don't you?  Hester Kimpel was also a perfect old lady name, but Hester didn't have an old lady demeanor.  Another wonderful old lady name from my church was "Carter Vermillion."  You can't make this stuff up...it is the South.

I remember Grant's beautiful snowy white hair and the silver necklace with charms of small children on it which she always wore, fitting for a retired teacher.  She had an imperious, high-pitched voice, pronouncing her name as "Grant Creekmo."  Grant didn't invite you over for a drink, but for some "libation."  She could have been another character on The Waltons, an old friend of the bootlegging Baldwin sisters or something. 

Anyway, I have digressed terribly.  I have used two of Hester's tablecoths (one aqua and one in a pink and white dogwood blossom pattern) in window treatments and one white one is folded on my bed.  A certain disreputable dachshund has claimed it when the morning sun sreams in the windows. 

A fourth one is so lovely, a time-worn white with beautiful openwork, that I just decided to leave it on the now-white trunk to enjoy up a little closer than draped over my window molding at 11 feet up in the air.