The Fortune Teller

Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Today’s photo came via eBay. For the cat enthusiasts among us, the fortune teller is of course a little fella or gal kitty, making themselves to home in the entry of this tent. I think it is a tabby with a nice white bib and paws, but could be one of those nice cow spotted cats, we don’t see enough of him or her to be sure. This is a jolly set up which kitty has take possession of, a perky tent with an American flag flapping atop, like a tiny big top in the backyard and I can understand why kit found it appealing. The Fortune Teller has been hand scripted onto it in the printing process.

This photo postcard was mailed, on October 23, 1908, from South Londonderry, VT, according to the postmark. It was send to Miss M. H. Miller and E. H. Miller Esq. East Dummerston, Vt. “Brook Farm” is written at the bottom. Out of curiosity I ran that address and discovered a listing for the farm for sale. The listing is undated, but it was being offered for $490,000. Photos of that farm below as well as a period one of South Londonderry – to help create the high mystic mood of Vermont on this rainy day in New York City. I would say the photo could be of either location, but my guess is it was taken at this farm.

Photo of the farm house, built in the 1830, at Brook Farm, VT.
View of the farm land associated with Brook Farm. I think I may need to visit Vermont!
Snatched off the website for the town of S. Londonberry, Vt.

Yesterday I was on an errand in Chelsea and passed a sign for a psychic and wondered what impact Covid may have had on that cottage industry. (Like nail salons, NYC seems to be home to an unusually thriving psychic business community.) While probably not deemed essential businesses, presumably they are generally small enough to be under the radar. Nonetheless, when taking safety issues into account, even with masks it seems like a high risk proposition for both the psychic and the customer.

I took this photo in Chelsea yesterday, charmed by the holiday decorations of the florist next door.

My cats have never told my fortune, although I believe they can predict that at 6 PM each night someone will deposit cat food carefully doled out for them, split evenly in their black and white china cat dishes. They don’t seem to look much further ahead than that and the morning feed. (We can discuss that Deitch Studio ritual another time.)

I do enjoy getting my fortune told and once a year my friend Eileen and I eat our birthday dinner at a restaurant which usually has (had? are all these places and rituals gone forever now?) a tarot card reader in an upstairs bar area. (Eileen also owns a home in Vermont and may be able to add some Vermont lore here.) Although we frequently encountered the same woman, it does vary from time to time – always women though. It may have been the first time when my fortune was so wild and unlike me that I dismissed it entirely – until it came remarkably true in the weeks and months beyond.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I sense a personal reluctance to poke at the future these days. Part of me wonders if those with second sight could see the year of 2020 coming – maybe not the year in all its precise gory detail, but a somewhat inexplicable dark period descending upon us. Would I have wanted to know about it? (I just remarked to someone that it is like all our concerns about the year 2000 came true this year!) Regardless, I seem to do best by taking these days one at a time rather than attempt to look ahead. The cats and I will consider what’s for dinner and not too far beyond.

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