Stormy

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Perhaps not surprising as a large swath of the country buckles down to what could be the most substantial snowfall of many years, that this photo (just in the door from my friend @marsh.and.meadow via Instagram) should be top of my pile for today.

Mounted and undated, other than a bit of damage at its edges it is in good shape. It seems it was a treasured photo despite it being overexposed, although somehow it works with the effect of the snow. This little boy is wearing the kind of long coat I think of more for an adult, but I guess he maneuvered on his sled just find nonetheless. (I bought a very long down coat this year to replace one I have been wearing for decades. It has zippers in the side so I can actually walk in it or keep it zipped all around in terrible cold. I can’t image it on a sled though.) He wears a cheery sort of beret and sort of has the look of a race car driver standing next to his beloved vehicle which is why I purchased it.

Early morning view out the window of the apartment this morning.

He has a very elaborate sled. Better is painted on the side but I cannot read the rest and there is more – it is obscured by a sort of jointed wooden handle – perhaps to steer? How would that work? The top of this sled is made of wooden planks – it all looks very heavy for a sled. The runners are the carved bottom. I think you would need some heavy snow to take advantage of this design. Growing up we were the generation that moved from the traditional wood with red metal runners to dishes of metal or plastic which picked up great speed, even in less snow. Growing up near the ocean and a river it was frequently a bit too warm for much snow to hang around.

This card came from the Midwest and they do generally know something about snow out there. I am not sure if that is a house or a barn behind him, behind a fence. Skeletons of denuded winter tress are visible and it is snowing as the photo was taken, white dots on his dark clothes, gathering still all around. (As it is out my window right now – a complete white out here on the 16th floor, looking north.)

Snow at the house in Jersey last weekend.

Last Sunday I was in New Jersey and shoveling some of it in the evening. Monday dawned to an unusually pretty day of snow – everyone was talking about how picture perfect it was. It was a holiday for many including from school and provided ample opportunity for sledding down a very large hill near my house which I drove past. A pretty church, aptly named Tower Hill, sits at the top. I’ve run up that hill and it is steep! Perfect for sledding however. Growing up, it was a bit too far for us to get a ride two towns over, so I think I ever sledded there once or twice and when I was older. It would have seemed like Everest as a little kid. I want to say my folks drove us to a hill near my grandmother in a town called Long Branch, but I don’t remember where really.

Tower Hill Church, the slope continues down about three times as far as what is shown here – unobstructed and perfect for sledding.

Living near the ocean and between twin rivers, it was frequently too warm for snow to stay around long. Snowstorms also often caused flooding which meant water (river water) on the ground rather than snow and certainly not driving anywhere. Therefore, the perfect sledding snow day was a bit rarified. Here in Manhattan we have sledding hills in Central Park and even a small one here near me in Carl Schurz park. I bet the kids are heading over even early this morning although maybe everyone being kept inside while it is coming down so hard.

Weirdly when I watch the Winter Olympics I have a vague yearning to try the luge and skeleton. There is a place in upstate New York for training and the thought always tempts me, no idea why that particular sport speaks to me. My girl cat Cookie likes to watch it with me – television interests her and anything zipping around like that is a bonus. I was born in a blizzard (and as a February baby I also have many snowy birthday memories of plans canceled or adjusted for the celebration) so maybe it was born into me.

Meanwhile, at work we will likely be the only animal hospital open and our vets and techs who come from a broad swath of the tri-state area will have trouble getting in, but of course animals will still need us. Most of the interns and residents are a bit closer – we provide some housing not far from the hospital. It is a bit sad for me that my first thoughts about snow are practical about slippery sidewalks and shoveling at the house, getting to work and losing power – instead of fun and beauty. I will try to repair my sense of wonder, dream about fast sleds and do some cozy cooking and at home projects.

Expecting Snow

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Here in New York we are anticipating snow on and off over the next few days. I head back to New Jersey tomorrow and vaguely see a snow shovel in my future. I don’t think we believe it will be especially heavy so my shoveling will, hopefully, remain nominal.

I do think if shoveling becomes a regular part of my future I need to consider my tools a bit better. I have an extremely standard issue snow shovel at the house. Recently I was reading an article in the New York Times Wirecutter section where they recommended the one below and am considering it. (If you want to purchase it, you too can here. It awaits in my Amazon queue for now.)

The possible future of my snow shoveling life.

Seems like a nominal investment and I may try it – Wirecutter rarely if ever steers me wrong. Notably to date I have a space heater (two really, I bought a second) in New Jersey that I love. It kept Kim nice and toasty in our drafty upstairs over the holidays and I keep one in the kitchen for cold mornings. Also after some bad spills and cups that barely keep things warm, I invested in a thermos they recommended which carries my to-the-office cup of coffee daily. It is splendid! It was expensive as these things go but has an excellent lock top and the coffee stays so piping hot that I pour it into a mug to drink it. (If this is of interest you can purchase it on Amazon here. At $35 it is more than the snow shovel!)

Real admiration function of this thermos.

Among the other things Wirecutter has contributed to our lives are: our couch, a magnetic shelf for the side of my fridge, a similar holder for knives and an external battery for my phone. I’m not sure they have ever given me a bum steer. Therefore, a $30 investment of a new ergonomic snow shovel may well be in my future. Meanwhile there was so much snow in our area over the holidays that all the stores were sold out of pet-safe salt substitute for the walk and driveway. I ordered a bucket of it from Amazon finally; it arrived after we left but should be waiting for me.

This is my roundabout way of getting to this nice little photo which came to me as a holiday card from my friend at that excellent antique store down in Dallas, Texas I purchase from, Sandi Outland at Curiosities (aka @curiositiesantique). I’m sure if I ever make it to Dallas I will spend several happy hours searching their shelves and cases, but Sandi does a good job of keeping me abreast of what I might like. (Posts of purchase from Curiosities can be found here and most recently here for starters, but there are many.) I also fantasize that one of these days we’ll meet up for an antique shopping fest at something like Brimfield. I think we’d have a rather superb time. Huge shoutout to her for sending us this photo card this season!

Sandi picked this photo and made the card, adding the tiniest bit of glitter to it – it may not even be visible in the picture I have taken. It does give it just a bit of sparkle which Kim and I liked. Sandi is a collector of grumpy snowman pics – she sent props for this one below I wrote about recently. I suspect that may have been in mind when she chose this one for us.

This picture shows a less than glorious snow fall on the ground, the kind I feel like I largely grew up with. The true, deep, sledding, snowman building snows were few and memorable really. (When I go to New Jersey tomorrow I will look for some snow photos from my childhood – they are quite disorganized there however I am afraid. I know of one where our German Shepard is catching a snowball in her mouth though.) More often you had about two or three inches like this, enough for a few meagre snowballs (as evidenced by this little boy and girl who each hold one), but not much more – enough to sock your sibling once, twice at most. Probably not enough for a snow day from school, definitely not enough for a decent size snowman. Still, as an adult it brings back a sort of visceral memory from childhood.

The big tree and the bare earth create a good composition for this photo. The little boy draws us all the way to the front while the barren trees not quite in focus behind the girl create a sense of depth, little girl front and center in the middle ground. Kids clothes being what they are I’m unsure of when it might have been taken. Really it could be any time from the 40’s into the 50’s would be my guess.

As I type, snow has started to fall here as predicted. I think it may turn to rain before turning back to snow, but we’ll see where temperatures are as the day progresses. Kim and I are scheduled for a stroll down to Orwasher’s for our first weekly purchase of bread since we returned to Manhattan. It isn’t a hard snow, and at most I think we’ll end up with that 2-3 inches on the ground this weekend. I’ll manage with the old shovel just fine.

Gusty

Pam’s Pictorama Post: I plucked this one out of the Pictorama library (aka pile on my desk) today as it is quickly turning wintery and windy here in New York City. I itch to say it is premature, however late November is technically more than fair game. We saw some snow the other day – for about 20 minutes it was snow globe shaken glory out the window. It ended and turned sunny by the time Kim and I exited for our morning walk – he walks me part of the way to my office most days, a new practice I find very enjoyable.

I have not yet fetched the down jackets from their basement lair. Instead I have been layering bits and pieces on and topping with a big scarf. (I displayed said scarf – and gloves! – in my cat clothing mania post last week which you can find here if you missed it.) I am heading to the west side to a dinner party tonight so I think I have put it off long enough and I need to spring it today and let them commence their winter service.

I have purchased a warm black wool hat which I have worn and already lost and found and lost again. I think I need to purchase my hats in brighter colors perhaps, making them harder to loose. Anyway, I believe it to still be in this very small apartment so it should turn up. I am eyeing my boots much earlier in the year than usual, more for warmth than for wet.

A recent attempt to provide the cats with a heated bed has been somewhat unsuccessful. Blackie prefers my spot on the bed (preferably slipping into it while still warm from me in the morning). Cookie will sleep in the bed – however with the heat off and a towel lining it so it doesn’t smell like whatever it smells like which they have indicated stinks and will not do.

Blackie this very morning, having hopped into my spot immediately upon my vacating it. In fact, truth is he sat on top of me, willing me to get up!

Meanwhile, today’s card is a Maurice Boulanger design, A Gusty corner in Catland. It was sent on March 25, 1904 from Newcastle-on-Tyne to Miss L. Poppleton, 19 Henry Street, Sheildfield. So I think it was a card appropriate to the weather there and then. The note on the back simply says, Dear Lizzie, Do not come tonight as I have to go straight home. come in on Wednesday if possible. Nellie XXXXX. Amazing to think of a time when there were enough mail deliveries in a day that you could send such a note with the expectation it would get there in time! It was the text of its day.

I have written about Boulanger before (prior posts can be found here and here) as he along with Manzer (a choice example here) were the worshippers at the Wain alter. In reality Boulanger was a contemporary of Wain and definitely working the same side of the street with his jolly anthropomorphic kits, perhaps a bit less maniacal than Louis Wain’s. (As I say that I realize that I have some pretty whacky examples coming up for future posts however. He can get his crazy on too.) Alongside Wain he rose to prominence in the early aughts of the 20th century.

This card utilizes just black and white (and therefore gray) in the printing. Kim and I were just talking the other day about how it wasn’t that long ago that any color, let alone full color, printing was substantially more expensive. (I always have to remind myself when printing things at work that this is no really longer true.) So it was a clever design for a slightly less expensive line of cards is my thought.

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

Above is another Boulanger from my collection utilizing only black and white. The post for this New Year’s greeting can be read here. Perhaps the same park scene but in full blown, snowy winter? No human sartorial splendor for these felines – they are just in their fur (hope it is warm enough) and only one bow between the three for decorative effect.

This quartet of kitties was out for a stroll in some sartorial splendor when the wind whipped up tossing hats and skirts astray! A monocle goes flying and we are moments from an accident as this puss also chases his hat while stepping carelessly off a curb. The gentlemen cats in question both sport top hats and while the little girl’s is well secured, moma kitty fears that her chapeau will take flight as well. Interesting that the two men cats have bushy and evident tails (Blackie just puffed his up this morning when a pile of papers fell under Kim’s desk – quite a look!) and the girls here keep their under their ample frocks.

The scene reminds me of Central Park but we will suppose a park in France or Britain was the likely origin. (The card was printed in Austria but the copyright language all in English so I am thinking a British product.)

The word on the street is that it is a cold and snowy winter ahead here in the Northeast of the United States. I have a stock of wintery cards ahead so I guess I say let it snow!

I think it will cheer you up…

Pam’s Pictorama Post: We here at Pictorama feel the need for a good shot in the arm by this point in the winter. January was a grueling month to get through and spring is still so far off, alas. Therefore, as we stand perched on the threshold of February, I offer this entertaining Louis Wain tidbit, The Street Orchestra, to those like me who need a boost.

I have been much taken with Louis Wain recently and you may have noticed that I have been indulging rather freely in the purchase of his postcards. All of the elements of this 1904 street scene symphony remain relevant today – the children, (are the kittens also selling fruit? with a flag of Italy stuck in their cart?), the musicians, beggar and beg-ee, the laborer and onlookers. The fellow seated in the middle of the card could be taken either as a stump speech-maker (my first thought), or my preference is that he is Mayor of this block so to speak. Squarely in the middle of things he observes and comments on all. Every active block needs a Mayor it would seem.

The restaurant in the background is what really makes this card however. While the offerings are all very entertaining, some still have a tiny bit of bite by way of a kind of cat cruelty that Wain tends to lace through his work and specifically his postcards. Louis Wain does not just give us toothless, jolly felines – his kitties still exhibit some of their teeth and claws, their cat nature.

The restaurant offerings here include: Pickled Red Herrings and Boiled rats in sauce, (and my favorite albeit almost illegible) Cats Meat a la East End – where a plate of leftover mystery meat bits comes to mind, and we are Noted for our mice soup, with Best chicken patties and finally the appeal that You can milk your own cow – 20 cows to choose from. Cow milk is additionally advertised on the fence, somewhat cryptically, as Try our noted cow  – best milk, no pump kept on the premises. And finally, if that doesn’t work for you there is also, Good beer – best in town.

While some collectors might turn their noses up at a card that has been written on by the sender, I feel as though the neat script addition to this one adds to the charm of this card, If you look hard at this I think it will cheer you up. HMD. I couldn’t agree more! On the back, in the same hand it reads, So pleased you are a little better. Love to Sis as well as yourself. It is addressed to Miss N. Harrison, 6 Strensham Road, Balsall Heath. It was sent from within Birmingham in 1904, but the month on the postmark has been obscured. I am sure it did its job of cheering though.

So, happy February dear readers – and I do hope that if you look hard at this, it will cheer you up.

Some Snow!

Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Brrrr! This is the kind of snow you somehow imagine when you are a kid, but never really experience – at least most of us won’t anyway, global warming notwithstanding. I think every kid who has built a snow fort has dreamed of something as grand and massive as this. Bigger even than the igloo I always imagined building, but evidently quite secure since our four formidable ladies perch safely atop.

It is indeed unfortunate that there is no indication of where or exactly when this was taken and I can’t help but wonder. It is a photo postcard and there is nothing on the back. The clothes lead us to realize this was probably no later than the teens, a full century ago, the women above in full length dresses, thick warm black stockings on all. There are coats of the heaviest wools with trims and bits of fur. I am not positive, but this image may be populated entirely by women. There’s one figure, on the bottom, second from the right, which may be a young boy, but I cannot see well enough to declare.

I assume that the tunnel through was perhaps of necessity – a path through this extraordinary snow drift – but maybe it was also for fun. I do wonder how someone even managed to make that tunnel though – and where did the excess snow, no small amount, go? Is it just off camera?

As I write this we are commencing the earliest days of winter after a notably mild fall here in the Northeast. (And I for one am heading for Florida for work as I write this – I will be searching the closet for something to wear in 80 degree weather later this week.) The other morning, up very early, I was surprised to see about 20 minutes of hard, fluffy snow – the first of the season, to my knowledge anyway. It didn’t stick. Our extraordinary and notable weather events have been more of the hurricane nature this fall. However, one never knows with winter and weather. Perhaps this will be the year of a big one and we too will make strange burrows and pathways under fifteen and twenty foot drifts here in Central Park.