Pam’s Pictorama.com Photo Post: Today we woke to several inches of snow and more falling so this card seemed like the logical item for today. Purchased a few weeks ago on eBay, I brought it to New Jersey figuring I might have a big opportunity to post it – and right I was.
No judging my nascent shoveling as shown from upstairs.
First thing this morning had me out for a rare morning of snow shoveling. Ouch! I am perhaps a bit long in the tooth to adopt this as an occupation – today’s snow, shoveled early, was pretty light but already forming and icy layer under it so it was best to get it done early, or at least the first go at it. I don’t have much skill at this shoveling thing although my mom always did it until she grew too old and then she hired someone. I have someone who comes when I am not here or it is too hard, although he is nursing a bad respiratory infection so another reason to give Fitzroy a break.
Snowy backyards from upstairs.
Clearly, we are here in New Jersey, having our holiday break. The New York cats adapted fairly quickly to their surroundings and even Cookie is wandering down the stairs with some curiosity about the house at large. Peaches, the meanest of the Jersey Five, is still hissing at us but allowing me to get every closer before she starts. (Not Kim, he still gets the big hiss early on!) Blackie has made his way upstairs to see his sister, eat her food and give her a hard time. (We separate them here for that reason – we’d never get any rest otherwise. The fighting will continue back in NYC for a bit before it subsides.)
Yesterday, we wandered into Red Bank despite the plummeting temperatures ahead of the snow. I made some interesting acquisitions but more about that to come in future posts.
Kim in his temporary studio earlier today. Snow out the window.
Anyway, this is an odd card. It was sent from Berlin to Monte Video on September 9, 1908. It is too hard to read the full foreign address but it was sent to Herr Christianson with no note on the back and one I am unable to translate on the front. (If someone else can, please share a translation!)
What got me was this strange snowman, slightly strange looking girl (with a bit of a wicked expression on her face) who looks like she is whispering in his ear. She sports a pointed, witch-like hat with a bow. The snowman is complete artifice, is he painted? Perhaps painted on wood and cut out so she can be solidly behind him in her fur trimmed attire. He wears a sort of smushed (top?) hat, has a sort of long pipe and this cheery little broom. I especially like the snow, which I am guessing was a post production addition.
The top of the card, the best I can read it, has Gluckuches and Neujahr printed at the top. The latter seems to bring up German New Year’s cards which is what I think this is. Below is another (very delightful) card that came up when I search Neujahr. Sorry I missed this one on eBay!
Unfortunately not in Pams-Pictorama.com collection and produced by the same company. Champagne! Money falling! Not clear to me what the other woman is dropping – bills? cards?
So on a snowy Saturday in New Jersey less than a week before the New Year, I consider the upcoming one, more than a hundred years since this card was sent. I wonder what secrets of the New Year she whispered into the ear of the snowman and what tales of the year she’d have for the year to come for us today.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: These are not only the dog days of summer but International Dog Day as I sit down to start this. No dogs here in the House of Seven Cats and I think the Jersey Five find the addition of the two New Yorkers two too many more let alone pups.
Blackie has wiled most of his days away in our bedroom when not hunting up Cookie (who resides in Kim’s studio upstairs) and eating her food. He’s also gotten into numerous tussles with Beau, the head of cats here and fluffed himself up into a righteously puffy Halloween-esque fellow. I am trying to resolve the problem with an extra can of food in the late afternoon. It might be working.
The view from the back deck one glorious afternoon.
I am on the back deck as I write, where I have spent many happy hours this vacation. Stormy, the gray tabby who seems to be perpetually surprised and terrified by the world, is at the back door looking out – hoping against hope that a fat fly will land on the screen door for her to chase.
A batch of popovers made by a friend.
Labor Day comes early this year but having said that the light in the afternoon already has a fall look and I have seen large v’s of birds starting to make their trek south. The evenings are chilly enough to warrant a jacket and I am starting to eye the little used fire pit. However, the earlier part of the day in full sun can be roiling hot so we are not there yet.
With heavy spring rain and subsequent dry spells the dahlias are slow to bloom this year but their show now that it has started is worthy. A few new entries are small in bloom stature but bursting with bright colors, red and white and an orange red and yellow. My beloved hummingbirds come to feast on them and they go from one to another and back to a favorite – like a bird buffet. ( Does anyone know what I mean when I say hummingbirds, hanging in the air, look like they are somehow stopping time?)
I can almost always find bees tucked in the centers of the dahlias, drowsily, drunkenly and dizzily covered in pollen. The strawberry plants are also enjoyed by the hummingbirds and are overflowing with flowers right now. I think I’ve mentioned before that they oddly produce only the tiniest, almost doll sized fruit – delicious but bizarrely small.
Kim working at his temporary desk.
The tomato plants promise produce, hanging green on the vine but ripening SO slowly. Another producing tiny tasty yellow cherry tomatoes is doing a great business – unusually small but tasty bits being the order of the day here I guess. We pop small handfuls in our mouth, still warm from the sun. The jalapeno peppers are bountiful (and perversely huge) and of course are the hardest to use up quickly without killing my diners with devilishly spicy treats.
Kim’s set up for work here.
This year has felt like a real vacation. Kim and I have taken long daily walks to the neighboring towns, shopped in the antique stores and scored some items. We brought piles of books from New York (and admittedly added to them) and we have worked our way through almost all of them. Kim has been catching up on some of my Rosa Mulholland recommendations including one I brought with me that arrived shortly before our departure. In addition he has made occasional trips to the comic book store in Red Bank (Jay and Silent Bob’s Secret Stash of Kevin Smith fame) where he has amassed books reproducing the Superman saga.
From my favorite perch at the comic book store, reading work email while Kim looks.
Kim and I both worked for the first two weeks here after arriving in early August and we’ll put in a few days from here after Labor Day. Last week I wrote about our pending visit with Bill which kicked off our vacation and below are some photos memorializing his visit. (Bill, if you’re reading this, we found both the Reed Crandall book AND the Pinocchio book after you left! They were on an overlooked shelf together.)
Ferris wheel view at fair.
Tonight is our first visit this year to the local Fireman’s Fair. (I wrote about it last summer in a post here.) Although I have reserved the right to go again when another friend visits from Manhattan this weekend.
I recently told Kim if he wants to sound like a native New Jersey-er he weigh in on the state of the summer’s corn and tomatoes – peaches for the bonus round. We take these things very seriously and the quality of Garden State produce is of great local importance. This year corn is small but good corn can be found with some work – it is perhaps just late as it has improved as the month has gone on. The tomatoes are somewhat underwhelming unless you hit one of the El Dorados of good ones (or can convince the ones on your deck to ripen) and eat them quickly before they go from ripe to bad. All but one purchase of peaches failed the test – however last night had some that had been purchased at the peach of ripeness before going bad, ate them with ice cream and felt like we really hit it at last.
Before andafter!
In this spirit I began to make tomato pie. After looking at numerous recipes I settled on a simple one which I share below. The tomatoes need to be bled of water briefly before starting and I used a pre-made crust. (For all my apparent cooking talents there’s something about pie crust which I have never gotten into the rhythm of properly.)
Fifteen minutes to throw together and this is in the oven cooking away for 45 minutes or more and it is without question best if consumed immediately – it is inferior when reheated. My only other word of advice is that you should pack it as full of tomato layers as possible because they shrink in the cooking and my first effort looked a bit woebegone as a result. Dan and Cathy Theodore were the first to try my pie and liked it enough to ask for the recipe, but more about their visit and the gift they brought in another post.
Recipe:
1 pie crust
1/2 red onion, sliced thinly into rounds
1/4 cup mayonnaise
6 ounces shredded mozzarella cheese
3-4 ripe tomatoes, sliced about 1/4-1/2 inch thin
4 tablespoons fresh basil, sliced into ribbons (chiffonade)
salt and pepper to taste
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 400F.
Line a 9″ tart pan with prepared pie dough. Poke a few holes in the dough with a fork, then cover with parchment paper and pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 15 minutes, until crust is starting to turn golden.
While the crust bakes, slice the tomatoes on several sheets of paper towels and sprinkle with salt. Flip and salt the other side as well. Let the tomatoes sit for 10 minutes, then blot off moisture with dry towels.
Mix together the mayonnaise and the shredded cheese, and spread the mixture in the parbaked pie crust. Sprinkle 2-3 tablespoons of the basil on top.
Top with one layer of the sliced tomatoes, the onions, followed by a second layer of tomatoes. Add a third layer if space permits. Sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper. (If like me you are worried that the tomatoes are salty from the bleeding the wiping them down wipes off most of the salt.)
Bake for 30 minutes, until crust is golden and some juices along the edge of the pie crust are bubbling. Remove from the oven and set aside for 20 minutes to cool before slicing. Tip with the remaining basil and serve warm or room temperature.
Note: Tomato pie is best served on the day it is made, but leftovers can be store in the refrigerator and reheated in the oven at 350 degrees for 12-20 minutes.
PS – At top, Beauregard, top cat of the Jersey Five, in a pout before we left today!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: I realize I am late getting to this today, but my cat care called in sick and I had chores for the maintenance of the Jersey Five plus the NY pair, so there was a lot of cat stuff that needed to go on. Then I started the gardening, but decided that I would give you all a turn first.
When I say I started the gardening, in reality I tackled the pruning of two huge flowering trees, Crape Myrtle, in our front yard. I am not an experienced pruner at all but when in bloom these trees get heavily weighted down with water and branches snap off. With a heavy rain some were sort of hanging half off and a friend lent me heavy clippers. I, who evidently don’t own a step ladder (I will look in the basement to be sure but none in the garage/mud room), took a step stool out and did my best to reach the necessary branches. I did my best, got covered in showers of tiny pink flowers.
Beauregard, a very fine guy. Has tried to make friends but NYC kits not having it.
For the cat update. The good news is that Cookie and Blackie did not stand on ceremony and refuse to eat for the first 24-48 hours and instead got right to it. Cookie is at home and enjoying her private aerie in Kim’s studio upstairs. She is not pleased with cat visitors although our enormous black male, Beau, persists in visiting and attempting to make friends. I find him sitting calmly like a loaf of cat on the day bed and her being hissy, pissy.
Blackie and Beau have had a few set to’s and I need to keep an eye on that. Beau really has tried to make friends but now is hissy himself – it is after all his full time house. Blackie is not having it but also he has a gamey leg that we had seen at work before leaving. Because he refused to walk for the vet wasn’t much they could do but pain killers. He’s better but his jumping is off and I think he knows it and is more defensive.
Some beautiful sunrises during my commute but just as happy to not do it for a few weeks!
Aside from that, much rain has made the garden explode with green but I feel like the flowers and the veggies are slower coming to fruition. I waited forever for the cosmos seeds to come up. The heavy rains moved them around and some probably actually rotted. However, we have a nice clutch for cutting flowers. The dahlias are just getting started and I am anxious for them as they and the Rose a Sharon tree attract the hummingbirds I love.
Chopped one of these into my fish stew and my guest’s head about blew off! Forgot I like it really spicey!
Tomatoes and cherry tomatoes are promising this year with the cherry tomatoes already kicking out produce regularly. The jalapeno peppers are doing a grand business, but as above the tomatoes are dragging their feet and so are some beans I put in which are just getting down to business. There’s a fig tree bursting with figs for the first time and some excellent, if mysteriously doll-sized strawberries. Huh.
A nice addition to New Jersey life are the farmer’s markets. It is a discovery for us, they’ve been here. The really good Garden State produce I love can be found at these – juicy Jersey tomatoes (my own are still green!), corn, peaches and nectarines. There is one in Red Bank and one in Fair Haven. Red Bank is about a three mile walk and the Fair Haven one is about that round trip. Kim and I like a good walk and an Uber and always be employed if we don’t want the six mile round trip to and from Red Bank or if we have heavy bags.
Today we welcome our first house guest in a long time. Our friend Bill is making the trip. He’ll be followed by some folks for lunch Monday and then another friend for three days at the end of the month. (Deva, we’re practicing and working up to your stay!) Of course I always cook a lot when I am here so it is just a question of laying in supplies for some marathon Jersey meals and deck time. I figure guests should be treated to the best of our Jersey fare and as part of that project I am making (my first!) tomato pie. So more to come on that and the relative success.
Early, new dahlia with a pollen covered bee!
So, lots more to come but I have to get outside and water the plants before it gets any later.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: In a sense this is a New Jersey post. We’re here and it is an object I purchased with this house in mind. It showed up in my feed and I instantly snapped it up. (Like yesterday’s postcard post, this also courtesy @Marsh.and.Meadow via Instagram.)
My mother was devoted to swans – the real ones that lived in the river on our property when I was growing up. She loved them and she started feeding them and they got to know her. She also began to help injured ones. People began bringing them from all over and would call for her help and advice. Along with the geese they were generally despised and over time she fought to keep them from being rounded up and gassed along with the geese. (There were resources, such as chasing dogs, that could be used to rid your yard of geese – the Geese Police.) It was a complicated issue but she was firmly on one side of it.
Swan planter awaiting plants out back.
This passion played out over the background of my sister’s illness and treatment for cancer. It kept mom out as a part of the world beyond care taking in the house. She picked up a long unused camera and began taking pictures of them.
During that period I can remember coming to visit and sharing a bathroom (not really because swans don’t share) with an injured swan spending the night inside. There was one she called Sweetheart in particular that did a lot of time in the house. Frequently swans and other water birds swallow fishline or “sinkers” which, in turn twist in their gut or give them lead poisoning. Those that recovered would be released either into our river or given to someone with a protected pond on their property. Some of the swans were pinioned (wings clipped) to keep them in a small waterbody on a property but often without enough food. They were moved to where they could be supervised as flying is their only real defence.
Sadly my sister eventually died. Not too long after my parents left their house by the river after Hurricane Sandy. Mom herself moved from a walker to being largely immobile. Throughout it all she continued to take calls about swans and other injured or endangered waterfowl. Pictorama readers know that she was also clearly a sucker for cats and adopted four of the Jersey five I have today in those last years. (Yes, this means I inherited four very young cats out of five. I sometimes say I have cats for life.)
A bit of stained glass with a swan that was a gift to mom years ago. Next to a chair with a view of the yard she favored. She’d be pleased with how much it has grown in and been added to.
While mom was never one to pick up bits and pieces (I inherited that from my father and his family – a post about their collecting can be found here) there are a few bits of evidence of her love for swans in the house. Some cards made from her photos and of course some prints. There are a few swans either in the yard or tucked away in the house. I am looking at a piece of stained glass someone gave her.
Yet, as soon as I saw this door knocker, green with age and patina, clearly weighing a ton, I had to have it for the house here. Someone may have tried to clean it a long ago mistaken day, at least that is what I think the white bits in places represent. The knocker is largely the long neck of the swan.
Swan door knocker. Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
He is a beady eyed fellow. No cartoon cuteness to him. The bottom is sort of decorative feathers and even abstracted feet. It ends in a sort of blossom, water reed design.
It weighs a ton! Realistically I would not be surprised if I am unable to install it here although I will try. My metal fireproof door may be able to hold it (although my current knocker is hung with one bolt rather than two) and I will have to let you know! If not, I will find somewhere else to put it here. It seems like mom would have liked it very much.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today’s postcard, celebrating a local summer spot where I grew up in New Jersey, seems like a fitting Memorial Day holiday kick-off card. I purchased it at the postcard show bonanza of a few months ago with the intention of framing it for the house in NJ where I am gathering a few early cards of local spots I love.
This one was mailed on August 8, 1923 from Atlantic Highlands at 11 AM. It was mailed to Mr. Robert Del Paso, 44 Est 98th Street, New York. Written on the back is a brief note, Best regards to you and your sister from Dorothy and Eugene.
The view shown here is the one that you now see from the ferry when it pulls in. It looks nothing like this now, a small public beach is at the landing and some low condos not far beyond. Boats dock nearby and restaurants and small businesses dot the edge of the water along with some houses, although you don’t see those right in this spot either, as it is largely in the shadow of a much larger bridge.
The approach to Atlantic Highlands via ferry from 2021.
The first time I took the ferry into Atlantic Highlands, the sense memory of that spot was amazing. On the occasions I would go sailing with my dad or on the creaking wooden fishing boat of my grandfather, the Imp, we would head first under one bridge and then the other and to the bay or ocean. The sense of history smacked me hard being on that spot of the water again.
I have touched on this Jersey shore enclave before, not long ago in a post about Bahr’s Restaurant which can be found here. I opined on the thoughts I had about living there at one time, and the history of that restaurant where I had what turned out to be a last birthday dinner with my sister, a few decades past now.
Atlantic Highlands, and it’s kissin’ cousin Highlands, abut the area of the shore I grew up in. (Highlands is the hamlet slightly further into the river side, Atlantic Highlands faces out toward the ocean and beyond.) However, while Sea Bright, a spit of land that adjoins it, was an almost daily destination, the Highlands while hard by, somehow were the route less taken. I believe that this was probably largely due to beach traffic and while being almost within shouting distance as the crow flies it was rarely the shortest way to go anywhere from Memorial Day through Labor Day.
The parking lot for the ferry, next to the small public beach and some condos.
Once I hit high school we made it part of our route when traffic died down late in the evening. We ate lobster rolls and drank beer at shacks at the edge of the river at the junction where the bay joins the river and the ocean. Also on our route was a movie theater that showed films recently fallen out of circulation for an admission of $1.00. Beyond that, expensive restaurants that hugged the shore and gave a view as far as Manhattan on a clear day and those were beyond our means.
Atlantic Highlands, as shown in this postcard, attaches to Sandy Hook beach (and now state park) via the bay. Not only has this quaint wooden bridge been replaced, but the concrete one of my childhood (which seemed plenty big at the time, bigger than its Sea Bright counterpart which required a draw bridge function for the passing parade of boats) was replaced very recently by a true behemoth of a bridge.
Moby’s lobster shack on the water.
The one in Sea Bright is also under reconstruction and I gather will no longer be the draw bridge of my childhood – it’s opening hourly in the summer was how we timed our days in the summer in order to avoid it and the traffic back-up it would cause. I had a boyfriend in high school who had a summer job working the bridge which was a great gig and the retirement job of numerous fishermen. I don’t know how, in retrospect, Ed got that job but many envied him it. I am sorry to say I never visited the tiny shack mid-bridge that was the man cave you stayed in if you worked the bridge.
The theater is evidently still there.
I’m also sorry to have to say that one of the people I spent the most hours with in Atlantic Highlands is gone now. A long former boyfriend, I had fallen out of touch with Sam Lutz, and found out via local connections that he died a few years ago.
I suspect I will eventually return to writing about this area. For some reason it lives in my memory in a way other places do not. However, for now, this rosy sun setting over the Highlands hills is a good place to leave Pictorama for the holiday weekend as I head out there shortly.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: October is a favorite month for weather here on the East coast of the US. It is when we start to pull our sweaters on and jackets, but we have not yet moved to burrowing in our warm coats and many woolen layers. The holidays and the end of the year still seem pleasantly far in the future. (This year with an anxiety fraught election in the offing, we are staving off thoughts of November.)
When I was a kid it meant you were weeks into a new school year and while the shine was still on the year and the slogging had not started, it wasn’t so new that you were adjusting to it all as you had been in September. All those back to school clothes that were a little warm in September were working better come October and by now your stiff new shoes were getting better worn in.
Late strawberries and the olive tree, residing in the blue pot, which has much bright green new growth.Am hoping it is willing to be coaxed through the winter inside.
Having spent my whole professional career in fundraising, it is the signal to the tumult of year end which is always very busy. (If it isn’t something else is entirely wrong as it was my first year at Jazz.) The summer has been spent laying plans for these last months of the year and we execute them at breakneck speed. My new gig combines the end of the calendar year with the finish of the fiscal year and tops it off with a Gala at the beginning of December – dizzying. (Driven by the close of the tax year for donors, many not for profits will bring in 25 to as much as 50% of their annual income in the last quarter of the year.)
Given my choice (although I rarely have been), it is the time of year I would travel and sometimes I have booked my business travel in the fall when I had an option. (I often did not – fundraisers tend to do things like go to Florida in the winter, or in my case formerly, follow the orchestra somewhere in February and March.) I had the good fortune to travel to Germany on a trip with the Met in the fall once. Lovely!
A friend suggested cutting some of these and drying them to keep inside which was a nice suggestion. These hydrangea have turned this lovely pink late in the game.
But New York is hard to give up in October as it is the time the leaves on the trees start to change which never fails to enchant. The City has whipped itself up for the fall, exhibitions opening, concerts scheduled and more, and is in full tilt. All of the dates with people I had deferred far into the future are appearing on my calendar.
For that reason I am especially pleased Kim and I got married in October. It was an event I got to schedule and choose and October was a lovely day and is a lovely moment for our anniversary. Although our level of celebration is low-key (watch for a maybe post next week) fall is a nice time to be out and traipsing around a bit together.
A friend staking these in my absence. The apricot one is the first I have seen from that plant!
I head to New Jersey tomorrow (the heating system needs to be serviced and turned on), where I get reports that the dahlias are full tilt. One I had never seen bloom before has turned out to be a favorite apricot color. Zinnias which took their own time about flowering are finally hard at it. I will plant more (and perhaps earlier) next year though as they are very jolly.
Cabbages – thoughts anyone?
Some errant cabbages have taken hold and I am not sure what to do with them – will they become more like heads? How do I cook these? Also, something is eating them. Sadly the cucumbers may come to much fuss about nothing and not produce that much in the end. Maybe I will even get to sit out with the fire pit tomorrow night. I never seem to be there for the right weather.
My vulnerable young fig tree needs wrapping in burlap soon and the hibiscus and olive tree, in pots, will need to move inside for the winter. The dahlias will need to be dug out and stored too once they are done, but that is more like a trip in November.
Saved this hibiscus from a damaged half-price shelf at Lowes and it is lovely.
However, I find this fall haunts and chases me a bit with hints of sadness for the waning year. Perhaps just too much change with mom passing, job shift and the like – I don’t respond to change well in general. The fall is not filling me with optimism and energy the way it usually does. However, a day in the garden tomorrow, cuddles with kitties and a anniversary day with Kim next weekend should do much to set me right again.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today is an oddball post – I wish to introduce you all to Peaches, the second youngest, female cat of the New Jersey tribe of five. She’s also one of the meanest cats I have ever met. Perhaps considering her story she has some snark coming to her. I will let you decide.
Most readers know that in April of ’23 I inherited a house and five cats from my mother. At her behest, the cats continue to reside here where someone cares for them and the house when I am not here, as Deitch Studio in Manhattan is still our home base. This presents some logistical problems, but fewer than I might have expected when my mother first presented this request, as it became clear that her time was limited.
Shown here with Hobo, our outdoor visitor. They look so much alike! Seems impossible that they are related – Hobo lives too many miles away. But still…
For some background, my mother had briefly whittled her cat family down to something manageable a few years ago when she adopted, first, an all black kitten (Beauregard or Beau) from an agency in Newark, but then followed in rapid succession by two who came to the backdoor (Gus and Stormy) and Peaches whose story I am going to tell today. After the acquisition of Stormy (the youngest) I did request that she stop acquiring cats as it was clear that these were indeed going to end up being my cats.
Our holiday card featuring the whole family (including Hobo) for a quick cat reference.
Unlike the others who, as outlined above, either came through the front door via adoption or showed up repeatedly and starving at the back, Peaches was acquired sight unseen. My mother loved to tell the Peaches acquisition story.
Prized spot in our bedroom.Forbidden territory when the NYC cats are here.
At that time, now about three years ago, my mom had a cousin living with her. They had both grown up in a nearby town called Long Branch and her cousin inherited a house there, but lived with mom for a few years. Word was, back near her house in Long Branch, a friend heard a cat meowing over several days and had called Animal Control to find out what was going on and get the cat.
Seems somehow this cat had gotten away from the mother and the litter and was trapped in a basement after falling down a hole. Poor little thing was starving and crying.
Peaches does play with toys.
My mom knew that it was likely that a feral kitten would ultimately be put down as unadoptable. She called Animal Control in Long Branch as soon as the cat was picked up and told them not to put her down and that she would take it.
I guess the guy said, Lady, you don’t want this cat! It is the meanest cat we’ve ever had to catch. So wild we had to use a broom handle to move the carrier with her in it! And of course mom said she didn’t care and wanted the cat.
She very much enjoys watching the activity on the deck where chipmonks and other critters have been known to roam. Recently I found what I think were groundhog muddy tracks across it so quite a show.
She arrived and was christened Peaches for the woman who had heard her and called Animal Control originally. She entered our house at the time as the youngest and only female cat of the house. To my knowledge no one has ever actually touched Peaches since she came to Oxford Avenue. She hid at first and then slowly assimilated to the extent that she would hang with the pack of cats but keep a wide birth (six or more feet) from any human.
Left to her own devices (which she largely is) she seems quite content.
Over the past several years she has thawed slightly. She now willingly sit in the same room as us, sometimes quite close. When I am feeding them she will come right up to me but if I try to touch her or get too close where she is curled up she will hiss, spit and growl. On this trip however, she “accidentally” jumped up on the arm of my chair and stared me in the eye for several long moments before panic set in and she flew back off. I was as stunned as she was.
Milty and Peaches.
She has one outstanding cat friendship in the house, with Milty, our most senior cat. I will occasionally find them sleeping together. She’ll go over and gently groom him once in a while. It seems like an unlikely pairing, but I am pleased she has a compatriot among the cats.
This just the other day. Happy Peaches.
There have been days this summer when I have caught her rolling and stretching happily. I think she is a contented cat in general, even if her interactions with the human population are limited. I used to joke with my mother that in ten years when Peaches was happily installed on my lap being petted we would look back and remember how we couldn’t get near her. I am less sure of that future, but she’s one of the Butler family cats now to stay.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: It feels like I just posted our arrival in New Jersey – and we do have at least another week here, but I can’t argue with the Fair Haven Fireman’s Fair which is a true harbinger of the end of summer here in Monmouth County. I like to remind Kim that I have been coming to the Fair since I was a tiny tot – winning goldfish was a great thrill but they did not have extreme longevity and Mom vetoed them in favor of a tank of tropical fish. (For more on that adventure of my childhood find a post here.)
We perched at some picnic tables to scarf down a soft serve.
I think there was a hiatus with my folks ignoring it and then I resumed in high school and college. By that time I was able to embrace all the rides, although I have no memory of any except maybe the Ferris Wheel. As Kim pointed out though, even from last year to this one there was an upgrade to the rides.
This one was Kim’s favorite!
This year Kim and I kicked off the evening with dinner a rather super Mexican restaurant and carrying our leftovers (food and drinks) made some of the more adventurous rides a bit hard to figure out. Also, long lines to buy digital tickets and then for the ride made it more of a commitment than I was ready to make. However, I did get ice cream (the recent oral surgery fiesta made cotton candy seem ill advised somehow) and we even ran into Mike, the guy who works on our garden – and worked on my mom’s for many years.
Dinner at Dos Banditos here in Fair Haven and just steps from the fair.
We enjoyed the wildly flashing and multi-colored lights and watched as youngsters and their parents tried to flip floppy frogs of rubber onto faux lily pads, or raced to squirt water or roll balls faster than their comrades. Participants strapped into to rise slowly in the air and then be spun around.
We especially liked watching this one slowly raise the people up before starting to turn.
A kiddie ride but we liked being under it.
Sadly, the prizes leave a lot to be desired. (Shown above – if they wanted to give me the knockdown doll I might have gone for that!) As someone who collects carnival prizes from the early 20th century these are a bit of an effrontery. Think of winning a Felix like the one below which I believe were prizes – or the chalkware we collect today – Felix, Mickey and others. I doubt that fake ET stuffed animals will be collectible in 2040, but we’ll see I guess.
Meanwhile, back at the house the dahlias are delightful. A storm the other night damaged some of them but luckily some quick staking and taping seems to have rescued them. (The second photo in the rotation is of a dahlia a friend gave me in memory of my mom and this first year it has bloomed beautifully!)
Bumper crop of cukes will likely really hit after we leave I am sorry to say.
The cucumbers were growing so aggressively that I added yet another trellis to see if I could keep them from choking everything around them with their little tentacles. As I pointed out in an earlier post (here) the bees adore the yellow flowers and buzz angrily at me when I try to work out there. I do wonder if the fall will bring cucumber galore for each of the flowers out right now.
A successful evening of bbq shown here.
As I write, I have cleaned off the grill in order to make some veggie burgers and maybe a few ears of corn tonight. Kim and I will take a walk to the grocery store – much more Manhattan than Monmouth County.
Cookie and Blackie adjusted more quickly this year. We put Cookie in Kim’s studio upstairs and kept Blackie’s base as our downstairs bedroom. I won’t say the New Jersey cats are thrilled with Blackie’s efforts to roam the entire house. He goes upstairs to bug Cookie periodically. Sometimes Beau follows and an explosion ensues.
Blackie visits the kitchen – cautiously!
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A hummingbird graces us with a long, slow drink at the flowers. Thanks to the flowers and flowering trees we are treated to them in numbers I have never seen locally. Another summer drawing to a close here in Jersey.
Backyard post grilling, about the hour the bats show up.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Here in New Jersey, where Deitch Studio vacations, there is more opportunity for household items than in the tight confines of New York City’s base of action. Recently I picked this up online and had it sent to New Jersey. Honey is consumed in both places although I think of it more in New Jersey where we purchase it from local bees. I was pleased to find it waiting for me when we got here.
Local honey for sale on River Road.
On the route which I (used to and hope to again) run, just beyond the dentist with a giant tooth out front, I would go past a pretty little old house on a main street sporting a sign declaring, The Bees Live Here and bottles of honey along with a cash tin so folks could leave cash and carry. Since I was always running I never bought it this way, but a friend who lives on a nearby block has purchased it for me.
I was thinking of this, in part, when I bought this honey holder. I have seen some of these come and go online and suddenly it just was my turn. I purchased it from @obscuraantiques from Mike Zohn who used to have a favorite establishment in Manhattan which I have written about and missed dearly. (One of those posts with the treasures within can be found here.)
These lumpy sort of homemade looking bees have legs that almost make them look like they are dancing on this faux weave container. There is a spot for the spoon. It is not large, only about five inches high and I have yet to introduce honey into it. Haven’t decided if I will or if it will just be on display in homage to the bees and their product.
One-of-a-kind bee ring in my collection.
Some readers may know about my affection for these hard working critters. I have shared the ring I had made by a jeweler friend, a large queen bee. She perches on a bit of honeycomb and attracts many compliments, sometimes even from folks on the street. (That post can be found here.)
Bees are quite busy here and my mother planted the garden (lots of choice flowers) in consideration of them and the birds. If I was here full time I would consider having a hive. It would probably be a bit of a disaster however so let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.
The aggressive cucumber patch! I have discovered it is alive with bees!
I was working on the cucumber vines the other morning – turns out that cucumbers, as much as I love them, want to aggressively take over the yard, not to mention their immediate area. I am pleased they are so happy but the cabbages and zinnias won’t have a chance if I don’t discipline the cukes some. However, I had never realized that the bees like the pre-cucumber flower so much and frankly they did not appreciate my interference with their morning snack, so I have largely ceded the patch in deference to them.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today is a bit of a day in the life of post, back to toys tomorrow! As ongoing readers know, a few weeks ago Kim and I packed kitties and a few bags and headed to our house at the Jersey shore for a few weeks. With a new job I don’t have a lot of vacation so I am commuting these first weeks.
My new digs for work are way over on York Avenue and 62nd – an ideal daily commute from our New York apartment and I walk to and from most days. Occasionally I hop on a slow moving bus that wanders up and down York – and then oddly meanders across 57th Street.
Over the river heading to NYC just as the sun is coming up.
I am paying for my being a hop, skip and a jump from work with more than a month of a Jersey commute which is an hour and twenty minute train ride, with another twenty to thirty minutes on the subway and walking on the other end. It is a bit of a shock to the system – being at the mercy of the NJ transit system and back in the clutches of the Q train daily.
On the other hand, as I write this from my deck this Saturday morning I just saw a hummingbird take a long, long drink from a flowering tree and that is part of my summer reward. As I write, I am perched on my deck in full view of some ripening peppers and tomatoes. Cicadas buzz in the background.
My commuter mug, a great gift, but it did turn on my earlier this week.
It may be worth it but there is a cost for my slice of paradise! Our morning, always an early start, is even earlier. Cats (so many cats!) need to be fed, litterboxes cleaned and Blackie needs his shot. Kim tackles much of it but there’s a mad flurry of activity for a bit. The train ride in is an easy one and I get on early so always have a seat. As long as I don’t have an early appointment to make me crazy if the train has a hiccup, it is generally a time for some extra work or reading.
Sunrise on the way into the city – sort of the dividing point where it becomes more urban.
A friend christened my commute with a travel mug for my coffee, which I now fill religiously and think of her as I drink my piping hot coffee on the train. However, the other day in my enthusiasm I filled it too high and the steam popped the top. When I threw my bag onto my shoulder to run out the door hot coffee streamed down my back! Ouch and a pause to change my top layer (and put some soap on it so it wouldn’t stain!) and I was out the door. My back smarted all the way to work and I couldn’t take my jacket off as my tank had a coffee stain on the back! I have learned my lesson and I both allow to cool and don’t fill quite so ambitiously.
Heading into Red Bank station, we slow through these woods and then over the river. I love this few minutes coming home.
This route to and from the city is a well worn one of course and I have been traveling it on and off since reaching adulthood. It was the first and last leg on my trips to and from college for the holidays. Eventually it was the trip I took to visit my folks once I was living in New York, and ultimately to my dad in hospice during his long illness. Aside from the time of the pandemic (I have written about my time taking the ferry here) and just beyond when I indulged in a car to and from my increasingly lengthy visits to mom during her illness, the train was my main conveyance here and back. (I wrote about those trips with a lovely comfort dog, Cash, here.)
Where the view turns urban as we approached NYC the other morning.
The trip on the Jersey side starts out with water and woods. A third or more of the way there, houses start to emerged and are closer together, over some marshland (my mom used to talk about the wildlife in those marshes!) and then it becomes increasingly urban. Before you know it you are in Elizabeth and Newark and then the City is in sight before a ride through a tunnel (used to terrify me as a kid, these tunnels) where my ears pop, and then into Penn Station on the other side.
Mom always talked about the birds and other wildlife in these marshes.
Of course the trip back is the same in reverse going back. Getting to the train is always more stressful in the evening and I struggle with the discipline to get out of the office with enough time to do the reverse path to the train. It is generally boarding when I get there (unless delayed) and I hop on in the nick of time. The evening by necessity is more work filled as I have left things I can deal with on the train for that time and it is largely work time.
Weather permitting a quickly assembled dinner can be had on the deck – twinkling lights on and Radio Dismuke (more about that here) playing popular standards of the 20’s and 30’s. Tempting to stay up, but an early to bed with the early to rise to commute on the horizon again!
Pam's Pictorama 