Pam’s Pictorama Post: Our beach town summer idyll continues and tonight Kim and I enjoyed one of the pinnacles of a Jersey shore summer and attended the local fireman’s fair a few blocks away here in Fair Haven. After dinner on the deck Kim and I wandered out as the sun sank in the west, an increasing number of people as we got closer and could hear the shrieking of the ride participants.
I want the cat knockdown dolls rather than the prizes offered but they weren’t an option!
Early in this blog I wrote a bit about this fair which I researched and discovered that it is one of the oldest and longest running fireman’s fairs in the country dating back to a more carnival form in 1906. (That post can be found here.)
Kim was very entertained by the colors of this one.
Tonight, night two in a week long run, it was jam packed with families and teens. We got there too early for the full brunt of couples on date night and instead caught a lot of young parents of toddlers. Without really knowing (tickets have gone digital and you use a quasi-ATM machine to get “Magic Money” and the lines for that and the rides were long) it seems like an expensive proposition with kids between food, rides and games.
This fireman didn’t have any takers for this rather traditional display of strength.
The fair raises enough money to pay for our volunteer First Aide force annually and is populated by volunteers. It seems like the rides and games are a set package that must just move around with some nominal personalization for the town it is in. The food concessions seem to be part of this, with the exception of clam chowder which was being sold at its own booth and I think made locally.
While I was tempted by the Ferris Wheel – I wondered if we could possibly see our house about a mile away – I was daunted by the rigamarole. Instead, Kim and I decided to buy tickets for a ride through the neighborhood on a fire truck. I don’t remember this as an option as a kid or a teen so maybe this is a latter addition. Like the chowder, the rides on the fire truck had its own ticket counter and took cash and handed back real tickets. We handed over our six dollars and got into what turned out to be a slow moving line of very small children and parents. An extended family was together in front of us.
The truck seats around 10 but there is much lap sitting among children. We were the fourth load of folks after getting in line. You bounce hard in the back of a fire truck and really you have to hold on. We of course weren’t going especially fast but it made me wonder about the art of holding on if you are racing to a fire. (Very short videos above – fun to turn the sound up!)
Kim was very enamored of this one and the possibilities for painting the sides as a job!
We transversed a very residential neighborhood and I wondered how they felt about the endless fire trucks passing all night for a week. Of course the siren and lights were an important part of the ride. The group was offered lollipops upon entry but the kids were already feted on sugar so the parents declined. (Kim and I had even just finished soft serve ice cream cones ourselves.) I don’t tend to run through this area but I think I will make a trip over there and see these homes over by the Navesink River.
Even the crankiest kids became enchanted with the few block drive through the dark of the night. Eventually we took a turn back onto the main drag and then back to our starting point and Kim and I headed home through the dark suburban streets.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Vacation dawned here in NJ yesterday. Kim and I are officially “off” although I have to report to work one day this week and perhaps another the week after, nonetheless we are kicking up our heels a bit. Pictorama readers who have been following in real time know that although we had some trouble settling in, we have already started to adopt a vacation frame of mind. (Prior posts include ones here, here and here.)
So today, a quick little post devoted to one of a few bits of family art that survived the moves my parents did in the later years of their life. Having gone from a house chock full of art to much smaller digs, sadly not all the art made the moves. (I am most sad about a bronze sculpture of a horse running with a dog along side which my mom gave away.)
The painting I am posting about today was recently pulled out of a closet and hung over our bed. My mom said it was by Carolyn Wyeth (1909-1994), sister to Andrew and daughter of N.C., which is likely because my dad filmed a documentary on her many decades ago. Dad did most of the art buying and he would have found the opportunity like catnip and he held the opinion that she should have been better known.
I can’t find a signature on it but frankly not willing to take it off the wall to see if there’s one on the back. It could probably use at least a light cleaning and perhaps that would reveal a signature on the front. However, stylistically it seems right, especially the trees.
Anyway, I write about it because I have been very enamored of it since it arrived in the house when I was a small child. Although the wintery scene is not the most cheerful, it occupied my imagination for hours on end. I cannot remember what stories I made up about it in my mind, but as soon as I took it out the memory of making up such stories came racing back to me.
The lack of definition in the figures, bundled up against the snow and the cold, bothered me a bit. I guess I had my critical chops as a small child. But the not quite entirely monochromatic nature of it interested me even then. The tiniest bit of red on the figure on the porch was of great interest to me, long before I would have been able to explain why. The texture of the paint is satisfying, even without being thick.
It gave me satisfaction to have it back up and I find myself getting lost in it again, which after all, is what paintings are for.
Bonus photo of Blackie, embracing his Jersey adventure, earlier today.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: As I start this I sit in a train tunnel to NYC from NJ with an absurdly loud snoring generating from the seat in front of me. This man needs help I think.
The great summer experiment of 2023 got off to a rocky start (see the cats not eating post here) and although it has improved (cats have resumed eating and now are focused on fighting with the NJ cats) we are still in somewhat dubious turf, especially when it comes to developing my commuter chops.
Local honey. I run past here frequently and am tempted but how to get the honey home?
Last week, after a debilitating trip in for a breakfast appointment which was stymied by an express train that went local, I made it to Penn station in the nick of time to hop on. My commuter skills have been acquired painfully. I hopped on a train one evening in the nick of time only to discover that you cannot buy a ticket with a credit card on the train.
Anya and her double decker cat stroller.
To pay cash you pay a hefty fee so the conductor left me to try to put the app on my phone but it went into a repeating ring of spinney ball Hell, perhaps because the internet signal was coming and going. Much to my surprise, a very nice gentleman who was sitting next to me spontaneously bought my ticket for me which was lovely of him.
Then there was that Friday when the line I take stopped working and I hopped the ferry instead. A nice ride for me but miserable traffic for the friend who picked me up.
Historic house in Red Bank turned restaurant.
I am slowly returning to running here in Jersey. I lost the habit here toward the end of my mom’s illness when mornings were busy times. I got out and turned toward Red Bank the other day. I had a look at the summer set up – the main drag is closed to car traffic and created a pedestrian path and eating area.
Fig tree awaiting trnasplanting.
Post pandemic the town has suffered a loss of retail like many other places. Restaurants have done best in the rebirth thus far. There is a Tiffany – it is a wealthy area after all. I think of how we used to say that Tiffany set up in the beach communities to salve the conscience of the guilty husbands coming from Manhattan for the weekend, leaving their summer seasonal mistresses in New York. This year I have a taste of being the husband but I can assure Kim (and cats) that they have nothing to fear from my evenings alone in Manhattan – hence no trips to Tiffany.
Local Tiffany’s for those last minute gifts…
For all of the trouble settling in and getting settled, we are now and we are having good days here. The cats are eating on their own. Blackie has annexed a bedroom next to ours and now has two rooms firmly in paw. (Approximately the size of our apartment in Manhattan ironically.) He is finally appearing to enjoy himself some. Cookie has decided that most of her days will be spent behind Kim’s chair, less pioneering spirit in her. Thus far the New Jersey cats seem to take them with a grain of salt.
Lunch and dinner is mostly consumed on our deck off the kitchen where we can survey the beauty of the garden. A fig tree is the most recent acquisition, purchased with two figs on it and several more already peeking out. Tomato and pepper plants are producing now and the herbs are in full cry. A jasmine plant acquired a few months back has its first bloom although my vision of evenings heady with the smell of jasmine may have to wait for another year.
Ferry was crowded last Friday when train went down.
I have strung fairy lights around the deck and added solar ones in both the front and back which also pop on as it gets dark. A portable speaker and my phone are all we need to play some music. Hummingbirds make a sunset appearance at some flowering trees. As dark falls and the lights twinkle on, tiny bats swoop in to feast on the mosquitoes – which have been feasting on me. Fireflies blink (do the bats eat them too?) and I think that yes, this is summer at its best and at last.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Back in May of ’20 I purchased a card in this series for Kim. I had never seen the work of the artist Clivette and I wrote a post on him and the card which can be found here, and another shortly after which can be found here. I understand from a reader that Mr. Clivette was a much bigger deal than I had figured out so I am not sure I have given him his full due. A few weeks ago I was making a purchase on Instagram and threw this card onto the order at the last minute.
Although unstamped the back does have childish writing in pencil. It says, Miss Ina S Chilling, Wray, Colo.
Back of the card.
Unlike the Butler Deitch kits, whom we will discuss in a minute, these are white cats instead of black ones and if you are like me you might subscribe to the theory that different color cats have different natures. White cats are a bit more prim than black ones in my opinion. Years ago my mom had one named Kittsy. She was extremely timid, pinkish eyes and never grew much beyond kitten-sized.
We are two little kitties As kind as can be I love her and she loves me
Although this card professes the affection between these felines they don’t look especially fond of each other frankly.
Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.
For those of you following the tale of our summer decamp to New Jersey you already know that Cookie and Blackie have taken the move hard and have gone on a hunger strike of sorts. Although Cookie is showing signs of starting to eat on her own after a week of hand feeding, Blackie will not take the plunge. In addition, they appear to take no comfort in each other and in fact I just had to break up a growling, hissing fiesta. Brother and sister they have always been together, but sibling affection evidently only goes so far in Catland.
Turns out that Beau is Blackie’s doppleganger! Here they are having a moment. Beau has been very welcoming.
I have known cats who evidenced real affection for each other. Growing up we had a long skinny orange chap named Squash and he had an extreme fondness for another cat of the house. I am having trouble remembering which cat he used to curl up with. They would sleep with their arms around each other.
As I write this, late on Friday night, at long last I hear the gentle crunch, crunch, crunch of Blackie eating some dry food from the dish!
Pam’s Pictorama (better late than never) Post: Today is the day! In a few short hours Deitch Studio will pull up temporary stakes and head to the hinterlands of New Jersey (out in the country my grandfather used to say although we would have defined it more as suburbia) with all the denizens of Deitch Studio (Kim, me AND Cookie and Blackie) for a month of Jersey shore magic.
For those of you who haven’t followed the tale, I inherited a small house and five cats in New Jersey at the end of April when my mom died after a long illness. Someone on the Jersey side tends to cats and the house and I go back and forth ongoing. It is my first go at home ownership aside from a studio apartment co-op in Manhattan which has the blessing of coming equipped with a superintendent and staff. Like all those before me in such a venture, I am somewhat overwhelmed by the demands of a house and yard – not to mention a grand total of seven cats when we add in the New Yorkers, Cookie and Blackie.
Beau and Miltie, utterly unconcerned with new cats in the bedroom.
I have taken to parts of it amazingly well. Mom had a beautiful garden and it turns out to be in the blood as I have not only maintained it, but already added to it. (Full disclosure, I have lots of help.) My addition has been a small herb garden, strawberries, peppers and lots of tomatoes! Comestibles! I don’t know how green my thumb is, but I have enjoyed the adventure thus far and it seems nothing short of a miracle to grow food we eat.
Blackie’s carrier earlier today…
However, compared to what has come before, the addition of two NY kitties to the bevy of cats in New Jersey is an event. Our cats, Cookie and Blackie, have never met other cats. As far as they know, they are the only such specimens in the world. Imagine their surprise later today when they are thrust into the den of five others – oy! They will spend their first few days (minimum) in our bedroom to acclimate.
The New Jersey crew consists of: Beauregard (aka Beau – undeniably mom’s favorite), Milty, Gus, Peaches and (the ever shy) Stormy. Aside from Milty, who is a true senior citizen but not going anywhere anytime soon, the rest are quite young so my cat farm enterprise seems unlikely to diminish in the near future. It was mom’s last and most urgently stated wish that I keep the house and cats so, crazy though it seems, that is what I am doing and hopefully today is the beginning of a new chapter of feline detente and future such trips can be planned.
Look very hard for the hidden Cookie!
I have employed our friends at Chewy.com (we’re super tight now) to send food and litter that will help fairly replicate C&B’s precise existence here in New York. I think we have a rough morning ahead however.
Likewise, over time, I have assembled a fair replica (I hope) of the working bits of Deitch Studio (our NYC home) so that Kim too will not miss much from our Manhattan perch. As for me I have a week or two of at least semi-commuting before I enjoy a few weeks of all New Jersey.
****
We arrived! Cats were quite well behaved considering and while they were not silent, they made relatively little fuss. However, Cookie refuses to come out of her carrier (maybe she thinks if she stays in it we will take her back to NY sooner?) and Blackie took up residence in the closet but has now disappeared again which means at least he was willing to wander around a bit?
The deck at lunchtime today. Avocado toaston tap!
A friend and her houseguest wandered by earlier and we had lunch on the deck. Wynton’s newly released archival album of the Hot 5’s and Hot 7’s (recorded in 2006 and put out on Friday, find it for free download on Amazon music here, but available on a bunch of platforms) played on a new portable speaker. While Cookie and Blackie remain unconvinced, I think Kim and I are already adjusting to the quiet of summer life here. More to come, but I think a good month of low key adventure ahead.
I promise to return to the land of Felix and other toy treats tomorrow!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: I am writing this from Livingston, NY where, some readers may remember, I am spending a work weekend with our Summer Jazz Academy which is held over a two week period at on the campus of Bard College each summer. This is my first experience in an Airbnb and it is a very nice one – however I cannot take any credit for selecting it, my colleague did. It is a bit sterile, but utterly professionally appointed and has fulfilled all our needs.
The water lily laden view out the back porch.
The requisite view is a fresh water pond which appears to be somewhat manmade. The water goes virtually all the way up to the backdoor which makes me nervous, having grown up with river flooding. (The view of the deck chairs and floating dock as above is literally also just out our door.) A run yesterday revealed very steep hills – and I like some hills in my run but these put me to the test. Whew! This morning I just devoted myself to the cleaning and organizing of the Airbnb before our 10:00 am check out time.
Along the route of my run – some mighty tough hills here!
Incoming news from New Jersey this AM is that our stray, Hobo, who has been amongst the missing, showed up at long last. We were concerned that perhaps he had met his maker and was roaming with Mom in the cat over-the-rainbow world, but nope. He showed for his three cans of food the other day and has returned at least daily since. Long live Hobo.
In other news I am told we need cat food. With five resident cats there this is hardly unusual, but it is tricky to track what they are eating, preferring and needing if I am not there to see. I think the folks over at Chewy.com must think I now run a cat farm, which in a sense, I do. I carefully check and double check that this order is going to the correct locations – cats in New York eat different food than cats in New Jersey and although all will be mixing and socializing soon, I don’t need a couple of cases of the NJ food in NYC’s tiny apartment.
We avoided rain up here in Tivoli until we were pulling up stakes Sunday night. Rain clouds moving in over the Hudson.
Today I pen a bit in advance because next weekend (when you are reading this) we are committing to moving the contents of a long-employed storage unit (think decades in storage) of Kim’s possessions to NJ. I have been planning for it, but we are anxious about the potential difficulties. These are the contents of Kim’s long ago former apartment in Brooklyn, prior to him bringing the Deitch to Deitch Studio here in Manhattan, many years ago. We are sure to find all sorts of treasure – and trouble.
A colleague put me up at their wonderful cottage in Cold Spring on Sunday night on the way home, to break up the trip. This is their stunning view.
It is a coming together of worlds that although thought out seems a bit awe inspiring to actually executed after such a long time. And it is a serious stake in the ground this merging of stuff and place. Shelving has been ordered! Bookcases acquired! I have tried hard to calculate what needs a home and be stored, but here we go!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: It is Fourth of July morning and here in New York we are waking to wet and threatening skies after a night of thunder storms. I was never afraid of them as a child, but have grown to dislike them as an adult, perhaps in sympathy with a general sense of distrust of them among the felines. (Cookie and Blackie will bear up to a point and then, Cookie in particular will migrate to the front door, the innermost spot in the apartment, and look at us like we’re nuts if we remain on the couch by the windows.) Up on the 16th floor the winds howl a bit greater than at ground level, but my dislike is no lesser when in the house in Jersey, with rain pounding on that small structure.
Carl Schurz Park.
Having been caught in the rain while running yesterday and I am watching the fast moving clouds and calculating my opportunity for getting away with an hour of running in a bit. The jury is out as I write, but running is my only real plan for the day which may disintegrate into cleaning and organizing the apartment. In a small space like this it always seems to be a need, the cleaning and organizing.
Recently I wondered if I was neglecting the apartment in favor of work needing to be done, paid for and directed in New Jersey. Still, new carpet pads have been purchased for Deitch Studio and I need to trim them and wrestle them into place. I have replaced an especially tatty rug. I clean and organize, and organize some more!
Recent rug purchase for Deitch Studio.(Washable and largely cat proof.)
I will head out to New Jersey tomorrow and I expect that this entry will be finished there. I look forward to seeing how the garden has grown – the blueberry bushes were laden with their yet to ripen wares when I was last there and I am hoping to beat the critters to at least some of them. I understand that the tomato and pepper plants are performing admirably.
The jasmine plant I wrote about last week seems to grow before my eyes and it is embracing its trellis.
The strawberry plant is young, although it has filled out the strawberry pot I plunked it in, but I am only hoping for a taste there. I still am amazed at the simple act of growing food. It has always seemed a bit magical. The herb garden has already provided for many an omelet and a series of sauces, but somehow vegetables seem to be another story.
In mom’s honor I planted a row of sunflowers along the fence outside of our bedroom. I remember her planting some for us kids when we were very little and our shock and joy at how enormous they grew against our little house, as tall as my towering father. I am hoping to find them sprouted and on their way skyward. A friend and her small child are living at the house and I hope she too will be entertained by them.
*****
It is a week later as I write from New Jersey. Much going on in this small world. The strawberry plant, which I transplanted into this strawberry pot a month or so ago has produced its first strawberry!(Someone, my money is on a chip monk, stole it right out from under my nose however; I have yet to taste this bounty.) Multiple flowers however and a few in an early transitional state lead us to hope it isn’t the last.
One of the pepper plants has coughed up its first progeny, with many more to follow as well I hope.
The first of the bell peppers.
The tomatoes have gone “plumb wild” and are requiring constant staking to help them bear up under the burden of their produce. The tomatoes started out in a sunny back corner of the yard before an enormous bush grew to hide them completely. Luckily it doesn’t block the sun and the tomatoes are growing gloriously.
Initial harvest!
Someone, something, has neatly consumed those sunflower seeds and nary a flower has sprouted. In defiance I purchase two plants that are well underway as replacements.
The bookcases in their before mode, fresh from Suzanne’s basement.
Meanwhile, a good friend answered my appeal for bookcases and dug not one but two out of her basement. A few days have been devoted to giving one a new coat of paint and cleaning up the wood and glass on the other. It has been decades since I have done this kind of work on furniture; I think I was still a kid and doing it under my mom’s supervision. I suspect my muscles will tell me all about it tomorrow. The glass front case is a particular dandy though. I am tempted to use it for toys although it sees better suited for books.
The cleaned up bookcase after considerable elbow grease and help from a friend who had keys made for the locks on the doors which keep them closed.You’ll note the cat proofing on the chairs.
Tonight I pulled the grill out and made a pile of vegetables for dinner. This grill was new last summer. For some reason my mom was insistent that we buy it and that I break it in immediately which I did. However, the heat of the late summer made it a less attractive option than it might be in the cooler weather and I admittedly never really got the hang of it. Luckily however I taped my introductory lesson from a friend and manage to get it started and pull off a fairly credible dinner of grilled vegetables.
*****
Another raging thunderstorm woke me up early and the Jersey cat crew took advantage and got me up early to feed them. I don’t like thunderstorms any better when residing in the house in New Jersey and my real inclination is to burrow back under the blankets. These cats seem entirely unfazed.
This little fellow has camouflaged himself nicely, near one of mom’s many bunny garden statues.
When the sun comes burning out a couple of hours later I witness multiple bunnies (all different sizes!) having an absolute wild rabbit romp in the yard. They chase each other, run and jump high. Later in the day someone tells me they are eating the clover in the yard. I am sorry I don’t have a chance to film it.
Citronella growing like topsy on the deck (and doing nothing for the mosquitoes!) and an injured catnip plant I just rescued is in front of the strawberry pot. Let’s see what the kits make of that!
Despite bug spray and the presence of some lovely citronella plants, mosquitoes abound and feast on me. When I was a kid these bits would balloon up and practically take over whole limbs. Now they are just an annoying itching reminder which I will take back to New York City with me.
The next New Jersey post will likely be after Deitch Studio moves down – part and parcel, Kim, kits and art supplies in August for the remainder of the summer. Stay tuned.
Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Taking a brief break from the big box of Felix, I share a recent photo postcard acquisition of this serious fellow with his cat and dog in a lush garden setting. He is surrounded by bounty from his garden, including an enormous melon, leafy greens and something that looks like eggplant perhaps. He is plant and pet proud! It is the sort of photo which, Felix notwithstanding, is the mainstay of the Pictorama collection. This card was never mailed, nor is anything written on the back.
Kitty, a nice orange tabby, who is distracted by something off camera to the left of our view, sports a collar and perches nicely on Dad’s lap. The black dog at his feet is has a bright white chest and a substantial collar. Our man is dapper in a vest and collared shirt, neatly trimmed mustache and combed hair. His expression is serious, but he is pleased with the photo taking. He sits atop a simple wooden bench with spindly legs.
I am curious about the ropes or twine coming down from the tree, perhaps vines were being trained up them. There is a mass of unidentified leafy foliage behind him. A house peers through an arbor covered with ivy or something similar. There is an opening to a fence on the other side and these draw our eye back, deeper into the space.
Mystery bush in the backyard which has grown enormous. My tomato plants, which remain totally happy, are hidden behind them.
I myself am fresh back from a few days of hectic gardening in New Jersey and this photo of pets and vegetable bounty remind me of the garden there. All the cats are indoor ones and cannot join me in the yard, but otherwise I might give this fellow a run for his money posing on the deck.
The herb garden in an earlier state.
Yesterday I was feeling the residual effects of digging some deep holes for transplanting lavender plants, not to mention hauling soil and water around earlier in the week. Evidently my gym and running trained muscles are not those employed for gardening! Among my duties, was transplanting a sizable jasmine plant, purchased online and which arrived in my absence. It needed to be moved to a proper pot which was one of the more pressing duties.
This is more or less what the jasmine should look like in bloom.
I lived in London many years ago and I have never forgotten how much I loved the smell of jasmine in a pub garden I used to frequent so I am very keen on trying to grow it. Jasmine’s ability to survive a winter in New Jersey seems questionable, so I have put it in a large pot and will consider bringing it into the garage over the winter. I purchased a trellis for it and was surprised how quickly it seemed to take to the idea of climbing up it. In the summer humidity it almost seemed to grow before my eyes. The arbor in this photo puts me in mind of it – would be lovely to have one with jasmine climbing up it.
The first dahlia of the season!Hydrangea blooming away behind them.
However the trellis seemed like a sort of marvelous thing in itself and I thought it was wonderful to purchase for $14 – such an interesting object, simple and made neatly of wood. There are several others in the yard, most notably a few holding up large pink honeysuckle bushes which mom ordered. I only found out fairly recently that she was especially fond of honeysuckle. Not sure if it was to provide bounty for the insects and birds or just because she liked them.
Largely the garden was planted by her for birds, bugs and small animals to nibble and attract. Blueberry bushes bulge and despite my mother’s more charitable inclination in providing for the bunnies, squirrels and birds, I am determined to at least let some ripen and taste them this summer. To that end I fought with a complex bit of netting I purchased and, in my own ham handed way, draped it around one of the bushes. We’ll see how that goes. I think I saw a squirrel laughing at me.
One of two blueberry bushes, laden with not-quite-ripe berries.
I also had it in my mind that I wanted some sunflowers as I have very fond memories of growing them as a kid. I purchased some seeds and planted them a few weeks ago. Although I haven’t grown anything else there from seed I thought that growing a line of them against the fence would be a no brainer when I tucked the seeds in the ground.
When I arrived the other day I anxiously checked them and found the spot utterly barren. Upon further inspection, something had delicately dug and nibbled the seeds all up – a nice meal. Arg! I purchased two small plants which were already well underway instead, not to be utterly thwarted. Admittedly my approach to the garden has been to plunge both headlong and headstrong into the process.
Hope springs eternal! Here are the two new sunflowers I just planted.
I should not only talk of failures – a stunning dahlia is already well underway blooming and meals there are liberally seasoned with an abundance of herbs from a garden I put in near the kitchen. It is, as an herb garden should be, close enough to the house that I occasionally wander out in my pj’s to snip some for a morning omelet. I am sorry not to have recent photos to provide for some of it, but will share an update after my next trip back later this week.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: The last of the Mom posts today, for now anyway.
It is Thursday night and I am back in New Jersey. I worked remotely today and will spend tomorrow preparing for a repast for mom on Saturday – 40-50 people over several hours stopping by to chat and have a nosh. The resident cats are surrounding and circling me endlessly since my arrival last night.
The cat family greeting.
Since my mom died almost three weeks ago I seem to live in a state that is strangely and endlessly anxious. I think it is a constant unconscious feeling that I am forgetting to check on her nagging at the back of my mind. Also a terrible sense of always feeling like I am in the wrong place, a perpetual fish out of water. Being back at the house has eased this slightly, perhaps because I am here with the specific mission of getting ready to receive people on Saturday. Or maybe it is being here and forcing my brain and subconscious to accept that mom is no longer here to be cared for.
Stormy, dubbed Cat of Mystery by me, is starting to get a bit more social. She also likes to sit in the window.
Friday and a day of cleaning, shopping and cooking. I thought the house had been deep cleaned right after mom died, but friends showed up today and cleaned some more in preparation for tomorrow. Many hands did make for lighter work and the care of all these women surrounds me in a way that makes me feel like a kid again. In the process of the many cleanings and work that has been done the house is slowly becoming more of a home again, the bed no longer in the kitchen, the roar of the oxygen tank with the cord I was always afraid of tripping over gone.
Peaches.
A certain Pam-ness is starting to exert itself undeniably. Paintings brought up from the basement where they were in exile for some reason. A litany of small repairs are being made. I am having the black front door painted red, just for fun. Circus lights now festoon the back deck. Making it my own was what mom wanted and I believe she approves.
The garden is blooming early this year. Although mom never was able to set foot in it she enjoyed greatly it from the windows and via a series of recordings made for her to celebrate each phase of each season. She’d watch these again and again and share them with friends and family. (Here is a video from last spring that is still up.) Everyone remarks on the beauty of the backyard.
The peonies
The peonies I gave her several years ago are already bursting as are her roses. Mom was good with roses in an effortless way. Did she just know good spots for them? I never remember her fussing over them especially. My nascent herb garden and tomato plants are slowly gaining traction. A dahlia is shooting up in a planter. Unclear though if I have inherited the green thumb or just having some beginners luck as well as guidance from gifted gardening friends.
The roses in the backyard.
Tomorrow some family and a number of her friends will raise a glass to her and nibble on vast piles of fruit salad, cheese sandwiches and cupcakes we purchased and assembled today.
Sunday. Well, it rained hard all day. I said it was because mom was looking on and was worried about the cats getting out with people coming and going. Kim showed up early and was introduced to Hobo who received his third meal of the day from him. That cat must have a hollow leg.
Hobo on meal number one of three yesterday, at about 6:30 AM.
The plant people were all pleased about the rain as we haven’t had much and being plant people we walked out in the garden despite the rain. The animal folks were in a group talking about the rescue of a fawn that was unfolding and some left to go help with that. (Mom’s obit with information about her work in animal rescue and welfare can be found here.)
Family, caregivers and one of our neighbors all discovered people in common and mingled and marveled over the few degrees of separation that were unfolding as I guess they do in smallish towns. Like a wedding I don’t spend enough time with any one person while trying to get to all.
I woke up, exhausted this morning, back here in Manhattan, with Kim and cats. (It is Kim’s birthday – shout out to him! We sang a sloppy Happy Birthday over cupcakes to him at the end of the party yesterday.)
The eggshell this layer of protection I felt during mom’s last months has been broken and my time in that liminal space has ended. It’s a hard finding myself back out in the world again with new responsibilities as well as the old ones rushing back in. It is lonely without her, but she left me with new friends and renewed connections. I am so grateful for their ongoing ministrations. The page turns and the next chapter starts now.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: This scene of early comical commercial carnage is brought to us by Diamond Dye which claims to be the simplest strongest fastest and please know that, they have no equal. And of course so easy a child can use them! Additionally the back also boasts news of three new colors Fast Stocking Black, Turkey Redfor Cotton and Brown for Cotton. I guess no one could come up with a nifty name for brown.
Back of card. Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
Diamond Dyes do not seem to exist today, nor can I find out much about their illustrious history, but they had a robust advertising life in the earliest days of the 20th century. This somewhat unappealing youngster has dipped both her doll and kitty in the dye. I can’t help but wonder if the message at the bottom was also a double entendre – It’s easy to dye with Diamond Dye. Ahem.
Another popular Diamond Dye card, not in Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
Back when I was a tiny tot, in nursery school, and we were living in a small house in northern New Jersey. We had our German Shepard already, Duchess, and a lovely black and white cow-spotty male cat named Snoopy. Snoops was a heavy set, slow moving cat of infinite patience – the one I would routinely dress in doll cloths and play circus cat with. He was not a hugely mischievous cat and in fact this might be the only story of its kind I can think of. He was generally in my words today, a very good kitty.
Mom, who was always industrious about home care and maintenance, had gotten the idea to paint the brick floor of the screened back porch bright red. And yes indeed, when she wasn’t looking, Snoopy made his slow determined kitty walk right across that wet paint and kept going, so not only did we have a cat with bright red paws (at first mom thought they were bleeding), but of course his paw prints after he marched across the kitchen. He remained dignified, quite unconcerned and unfazed by the fuss he ultimately caused. The dog, who was always misbehaving, was probably overjoyed to see the cat in trouble for a change. Clearly mom must have flipped out since I remember the whole seen these many years later. (For some reason it also reminds me a story from the same era when a friend of my sister’s smeared lipstick on one of the walls. Mom had great fortitude it seems and she didn’t kill him. His name was David Mount – no idea why I remember that. I wonder what he grew up to be?)
Nifty dye cabinet – wish it was in my collection!
My own experience with dye is limited to some batiking I did in high school and college. To keep the melted wax in place we used cold water dyes which were far easier and less complicated than these early dyes which would have required boiling water. While I am sure they were state of the art in their day, I think I can understand their disappearance. I can only say I know enough about it to know that I would have probably unintentionally ended up looking like this somewhat malevolent looking child if I had tried to use them.
Pam's Pictorama 