Wanderlust

I return.  Two if by sea.

God-force without a compass.

Not for homesickness.

I have no real place.

The rail acts as stylus.

Dirty crackle.  Hiss of anticipation.

I board a north boat with lanterns.  

Gulls in my wake.

The edge of the world knows

the songs of my heavy-booted fathers.

Cliffs rise to welcome me.

Oceanic.  Colder than pewter.

Wyeth skies find a home

on the other side of the Atlantic.

I see an unknown soldier in the clouds,

covered with a greatcoat.  

He whispers.  Mainland.

Welcomes me with a wheelhouse.

Offers cake.  A pillow for my head.
Shows me the next bend in the road.

tk/August 2014

R.A.D. Stainforth, fresh from a wander in Shetland...

*photo: Yell Sound, Shetland, 2014, by R.A.D. Stainforth 

Join Magpie Tales creative writing group.  

No matter how much space you have,

people always want to be in the kitchen.

.

Keith Johnson

Anthropologie buyer-at-large

.

.

When entertaining at the manor, I am always amazed how everyone

migrates to the kitchen. They never make themselves comfortable

with a drink in the numerous sofas and easy chairs, but instead

flock around the kitchen sink, standing like cattle at a watering hole

in the Old West.

.

I would love to think my cooking is so entertaining, they are

captivated by my vermouth pan sauce or the whipping of

hollandaise. Or they drift in, levitated on the heavenly scent from lids

sputtering on the stove and leg of lamb basting in the oven.

.

But it's something magical and nostalgic. Something warm and

compelling draws us to this savory spot. For me, it's the cozy warmth

from the open oven door, as my grandma checked her pies and that

mouth watering sizzle of fried chicken in iron skillets on the stove.

It's memories of my uncles mixing Kool-Aid in the big pitcher at the

sink, the metallic scent of the well water, the frosty condensation on

the glass and the green mustache I wore the rest of the day.

.

It may sound a bit trite, but the kitchen really is the heart of the

home. It's a place of comfort, where life is sustained. After all,

doesn't life revolve around the people we love and food?

The Chain Reaction

My family laughs at me when I'm in one of these modes. They say
I flutter like mama bird rearranging her nest. I hop about shifting
items from one room to another. Those of you who know me
personally, know I periodically shuffle my stuff, like a deck of cards.
After it's been in a certain spot for a while, it looses it's sparkle, and
gets stale; and not just because it's covered by a thick layer of dust.

This quirky domestic practice always causes a major phenomenon,
which I fondly call the "chain reaction". I move one framed picture,
and the nail holes, resembling target practice from the last chain
reaction, are annoyingly exposed. So, this means I have to be extra
creative in placing the fresh one, because I don't want to have to
paint the entire wall. Next, the picture calls for a tweaking and
replacing of books, vases and other paraphernalia to balance into a
comfortable "nest" configuration. (By the way, I've heard they're
pronounced "vases" if their worth under $100 and "vaazes" if over.
Mine are vases.)

This chain reaction can last an entire day. You are probably thinking
this sounds a bit on the OCD side, which does happen to run rampant
in my extended family, but I'm a fairly laid back kinda girl. It doesn't
happen that often. The end result gives the illusion of fresh new stuff.
I say it's a good thing; a form of recycling that makes this little Magpie
very happy. And in this economy, it's easy on the budget, too.



**The photo above is the freshly hung prints from yesterday's chain
reaction, above my desk, off the kitchen. (Notice the little side print
to hide the exposed nail holes!) It's an old drafting table rescued
in the 70's from an old school in Kansas City. It's standing height, so
I don't have to sit down every time I pop over to check my blogs.
Love it. I'm tempted to paint it black. What d'ya think?

At the end of the chain reaction, I always have an item or two left.
Heavens to murgatroyd, what AM I going to do with this guy?

Bat Cave Revisited

The room above the garage our boys recently moved out of, fondly
known as "the bat cave" has freshly painted, ceilings, walls, floors,
cabinetry, new bedding and is ready for the holidays! I was just too
embarrassed to post clear "before" photos. A leaky roof had done
major damage to the ceiling, with brown stains and horrible hardwood
floors. Plus, the state of absolute disgust the guys always kept it,
prevented me from ever entering the room. I simply closed the door
and pretended it was not part of the Manor.

The arched doorway leads up to the room, which is part of the reason

it was dubbed the "bat cave". Our youngest son will be home from

college Tuesday. I can't wait to see his surprise on finding the bat

cave replaced by an actual bedroom! It is a little sad that it's lost its

poster covered guys' "hangout" look. But I can actually enter the

room now without passing out!

Birthday Bud

Saturday birthday dinner

with sweetest girlfriend ever.

Guess who is 22 today?!

He weighed in at 10 lbs. 3 oz.,

but has always been my little buddy!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.

This it is, and nothing more."

from The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe

Since it is the season for all things scary, Cynthia shared a few

favorite hair raising ghost stories and asked if anyone else had any

that they especially liked.

Well, as I have mentioned before, Willow Manor is haunted. We have

all heard, felt, smelled and actually seen ghosts at various times in

this old house. Every once in a while, the heavy scent of a woman's

perfume hangs in a certain place in the master bedroom, which was at

one time the guest room, and also the room where the former family's

funeral urns were stored in a window box. It is not a scent I, or anyone

I know, wears. It usually can be detected between the hours of 3:00

and 4:00 a.m. and Friday night WT noticed it again on his way to the

bathroom. It's very strong, very distinct and very unusual.

Sometimes it's so strong it wakes me. Our daughter also noticed the

scent in our dining room last Christmas Eve when we were up late

chatting in the living room and she passed through the dark room on

her way to the kitchen. One thing we do know is this lady ghost has

very classy taste in perfume.

Saturday night, WT and I were sitting in the family room, which is

an open area off the kitchen, watching Hitchcock's Rebecca on TCM.

We were chatting during the movie, and right after I mentioned

something, we both heard a loud shriek come from the landing area

between where we were sitting and the kitchen. We both jumped,

looked at each other and at the same time asked, "Who was that?"

It was definitely a female voice and a loud enough scream to be

heard by both of us over the TV volume, which was cranked up fairly

high, and our conversation. WT got up and looked around, but found

no clues.

Another thing she likes to do, is open my kitchen "junk drawer"

during the night, leave it open, take some of the contents out

and place them on the counter top. Once part of the drawer had

actually been cleaned out and organized. She must not like the

messy contents and state of my junky drawer. Sorry Mrs. G.

All three of our children have seen the form of a small older woman,

hunched over, in a white nightgown late at night, in various spots in

the house. And they still randomly see her when they come home to

visit on holidays. Our youngest son is convinced that she fell on the

steps leading up to the front door area from our dining room, because

he saw her curled up at the foot of the steps late one night this past

summer. We do know that an elderly lady died here in the summer

of 1976 at the age of 88.

All of us have been awakened in the night by the sound of a woman

whispering in our faces. This only happened once to me, and I could

actually feel the force of her breath on my face! The whispering is

always very fast and unintelligible. She can also be heard descending

the front staircase between 3:30 and 4:30 a.m. Many of our overnight

house guests have asked, the next morning, who it was walking down

the stairs late at night.

The most frightening lady ghost episode for me was one night last

spring when she actually turned the latch and opened my bedroom

door at precisely 3:30 a.m. That made me sit up and take note At

least it's not at 11:11. That would creep me out even more.

But, seriously, after living here for twenty years, we are all very used

to these occurrences and feel no harm or ill intent. If she intended to

inflict harm, she would certainly be doing more than just opening

doors, turning on lights and cleaning out kitchen drawers.

If you happen to enjoy reading these hair raising episodes, these are

just a few of our resident lady ghost. Stay tuned, I'll save the

experiences associated with the male ghost for a later post.

Do you know what you call those

who use towels and never wash them,

eat meals and never do the dishes,

sit in rooms they never clean,

and are entertained till they drop?

If you have just answered, "A house guest,"

you're wrong because I have just described

my kids.

.

Erma Bombeck

As you know, the bat cave (this is what we fondly call the room our

two sons have shared for the last 20 years) has been gutted, now

that they are moved out, and we are in the process of plastering the

ceilings and painting the entire room. Since it was always the guys'

room, I want to keep a masculine feel. I chose Waverly "Bark", a

wonderful gray-green brown for the built in cabinetry and floors and

Laura Ashly "Navy 6" for the walls. It was too embarrassing to take

before shots, so here are some in process pics, just so you get the

idea. It's all coming along so nicely and I can't wait to show you the

after shots!

When we first moved to Willow Manor 20 years ago, this lovely old

dinner bell was on the property. It has a beautiful patina and

marvelously mellow G-sharp tone that echos down through the

river bed. I used it quite often when the kids were young, scattered

hither and yon through the rocks and trees. But now that we are

empty nesters, it seldom rings. I am very fond of this old friend. It

symbolizes family, dinnertime around the table and the days when

our house was happily bustling with the dirty little feet of children

and animals. But don't get me wrong, I am finding the empty nest

quite comfortable! I will update you on the bat cave renovations soon.

youngest son swinging at the manor, 1990

One of the Family, Frederick Cotman, 1880
.

When he's late for dinner, I know he's either

having an affair or is lying dead in the street.

I always hope it's the street.
Jessica Tandy

Manor Statuary

I was chatting with Rebecca over at Ladies' Historical Tea Society about vintage statuary. She posted lovely photos of her gorgeous garden statues and mentioned how she liked them to be ancient and look as though they came from an old cemetery. Well, those are my sentiments exactly, so I wanted to post pictures of my two old pieces. My little girl, (or maybe she's Pan? I can never decide) is over one hundred years old and comes from an old Ohio estate. I was so thrilled with her, that I went back to the antiques dealer and purchased a dog, which was also part of the same estate's collection. This spring,WT moved the girl to the back patio and it was no easy task. She is filled with iron and weighs a ton! So this is where she is going to stay, forever, according to him. Rebecca, there were no angels helping him move this one, at least visible ones, that is.

Willow's Cairn

I was chatting with Dave over at osage + orange this week about
cairns. I have often wondered about the significance of these three
stacked limestone rocks at The Manor. My youngest son told me
yesterday that he remembers playing a game with them when he
and his sister were small. They would take turns sitting on top with
their eyes closed, waiting for the other one to push them off! He said
they enjoyed the thrill of the scare. Good thing they hid their little
game from me. And thank goodness there weren't any injuries, at
least that I knew of. The sillies.

So, what do you think? Are the rocks a cairn of some sort? Were
they left here by the Wyandot Indians to mark the location of the
Scioto River or burial ground? Could they possibly mark the location
of the execution of Chief Leatherlips on June 1, 1810? Or are they
simply a natural geological occurrence?

Clematis and Kahlo

My clematis is finally blooming here at The Manor! It is growing
up around a wooden bird feeder which is completely hidden by the
vines. I love it's amazing deep shade of violet. The strong winds
we experienced in late winter tore most of the brittle little vines away
from the post. I was afraid that it might not come back this spring,
but amazingly enough, it resurrected with a vengeance!

After seeing the Kahlo exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art last
month, I checked The Life and Times of Frida Kahlo, 2005, a PBS
Home Video documentary, on my Netflix que. I finally watched it
last night and it was very well done. A perfect blend of personal
accounts, history of the time period and, of course, her fabulous art.
There was some thrilling time travel through original old video clips of
Frida and Diego Rivera. If you are interested in Kahlo, or just
appreciate art and history, you would enjoy this documentary.

Serpent Siestas

This lovely old metal mailbox is outside the front door at Willow
Manor. It's no longer used for mail. The industrial size mailbox we use
is 200 yards up the driveway at the main road. Since this one is quiet,
dark and cool, little snakes love to slither up the ivy and use it for a
napping spot in the spring and summer months. I found out a few years
ago when I randomly stuck my hand inside one day.

Saturday Afternoon at The Manor

Have I happened to mention that WT absolutely loves Bob Hope? He
is immensely enjoying My Favorite Spy, 1951, this afternoon on TCM,
starring Bob Hope and Hedy Lamarr. The newly restored copy is so
crisp and luminous. It really is a joy to watch. The glamorous Hedy
Lamarr is drop dead stunning in her sequin covered white evening
dress. I did get a tad bored, though, and wandered over here to my
computer to see what was going on in the bloggyhood. I can't help but
keep chuckling right along with him, because he gets so tickled at the
jokes.

Lily Dalbray: The closer I get to death the more I realize that I love you.
Peanuts White: The closer I get to death the more I realize I love me, too.

I think Woody Allen's (another fave here at The Manor) comedic style
closely resembles that of Bob Hope. I'll post on him later, because he
deserves a whole post of his own! So stay tuned...

More Tales from Willow Manor

I was chatting with Lady Em over at Lavender Beekeeper about
ghosts the other night. She and Betsy asked me to share more hair
raising stories from Willow Manor. There are many to tell, but I will
keep this short and just fill you in on the latest.

.

Last week, when our daughter was home, we were all sitting in the

living room, and the conversation turned, as it usually does, to the

subject of our resident ghost(s). Our youngest son mentioned that the

occurrences here could be from the Native Americans who lived in

this area. Chief Leatherlips is said to have been executed on June 1,

1810, by his own people, along the Scioto River near our property. He

was apparently friendly with the white man and his Wyandot people

did not approve. I then mentioned that I thought it was Laura, the

woman who died here at Willow Manor. At the exact moment I

mentioned her name, a nearby potted plant rustled and six or eight

large leaves fell off and scattered to the floor. We all saw it, heard it

and were stunned. There were no open windows, no air conditioning,

no fans. The plant was on a table across the room. We all agreed that

she must have wanted us to know that it was, indeed, her.

And that's not all. Sunday night, after I had been asleep for about an
hour, the door to my bedroom suddenly burst opened at 3:30. It had
been completely latched tightly shut before I went to bed. The turning
of the knob and the rattling of the hardware was loud enough to wake
me. It opened about 18 inches. I just froze and stared at the open
door. I was too frightened to get up to close it! And of course, WT was
away. The house was completely dark, the guys, who had to work
early the next day, had long gone to bed. What was that all about?

Lady Em suggested that I get a little recorder to see if there are any

EVP's (Electronic Voice Phenomena) here. I might just have to do

that. I'll keep you posted. And if you like this kind of thing, I have

many, many more odd tales to tell.

.

photo: living room at Willow Manor

The Real McCoy

In 1910, J.W. McCoy formed a company in Roseville, Ohio with his son Nelson McCoy. The Nelson McCoy Sanitary Stoneware Company lasted through most of the twentieth century. McCoy hired artisans to to experiment with new and blended glazes.

Early designs by Walter Bauer reflected nature in the form of leaves and berries, and coloration was typically earth tone with browns, greens and creamy whites. In 1933, the company changed its name to the Nelson McCoy Pottery Company. The 1930s designs introduced some of McCoy's best known work beyond the floral themes of Walter Bauer, producing charming planters such as The Wishing Well, The Hunting Dog, and Down By the Old Mill Stream. Cookie jars, such as the original "Mammy" design, were produced in between 1940 and 1960 and remain extremely popular with collectors today.

In the 1960's, McCoy went into decline as cheaper overseas imports made profit increasingly difficult. McCoy was first sold to The Mount Clemens Pottery Company in 1967 and later to the Lancaster Colony Corporation in 1974, and all further production ceased in 1990 and the company went out of business.

WT surprised me with this old metal medical cabinet about 15 years ago. He brought it home from a hospital auction and it was a tad on the dented and rusty side. I had it painted with the electrolysis method, and  replaced the knobs. It's perfect for displaying my vintage matte white pottery. I like to keep an eye out for McCoy at garage sales and flea markets. It’s especially thrilling to find apiece that’s been in someone’s garage or basement for years with dirt still in it, for a dollar or two!

Back to the Bloggerhood

I just returned from taking WT and Elspeth to the airport,
so things are very quiet around the manor without our two
exuberant ones. I have much to catch up on in the
bloggerhood and will be around to your place today for a

visit, so put the tea kettle on!

Ben at Home

Mr. Franklin is now feeling at home on my bookshelf. I found him
in the discount museum shop at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Elspeth got a white one. Of course, since we were both buying odd
objects, they were completely out of shopping bags. We ended up
carrying around our Franklins the rest of the afternoon and giving
people a good chuckle.

Sam arranged Mr. Franklin in the easy chair early Monday morning
before heading off to work, which was a very amusing sight, especially
before coffee. Elspeth let out an operatic scream and I hopped a few
feet in the air.

We are having a lovely time time with our daughter, who rarely has
the chance to be home. We are chatting nonstop, shopping, laughing,

cooking and eating. I am anxious to tell you all about the Kahlo exhibit.

So stay tuned.

Happy May Day!

These lilacs, freshly cut from the manor today, are filling

the room with a heavenly scent!

Willow Wraith

There has been some chat with David (Authorblog) and Lady Em
(The Lavender Beekeeper) recently about ghosts. David said that he
would be very interested to read a post about this subject. I was
hesitant at first, but decided that others might find it intriguing to read
about the happenings at Willow Manor. Until we moved into this house
twenty years ago, I had no real personal experiences that might lead
me to ponder the existence of ghosts. However, that quickly changed
the first year we lived in this house.

.

Now, creaks and thumps are normal occurrences in all houses over

80 years old, especially those with the old hot water, radiator heating

systems. After living in a home, you familiarize yourself with all the

usual noises. But many nights, between 4:00 and 5:00 a.m., the

systematic creaking of the front steps sounds exactly like the gentle

steps of a female descending the stairs. WT has, on occasion, been

up early working with European clients on the phone, heard the steps

and mistakenly thought I had descended the stairs, only to find me

upstairs asleep in bed. Overnight guests have asked who was up

around 4:30, walking down the front stairway.

.

All five of us have been awakened at night with the soft whispering

voice of a woman in our ear, often accompanied by a unique scent of
perfume in the air. Two of our adult children have seen the white

flowing nightdress of a small woman late at night, that swirls and

disappears quickly. We have also had unexplained radios blaring,

drawers opened at night with the contents pulled out and doors

slamming.

.

Several years ago, I watched a 12 month old child, during the day,

while her parents worked. She would often look up the kitchen

stairway, smile and wave, when the house was empty except for the

two of us. Well, at least the ghost must be a friendly one, right?

And one with fabulous taste in perfume!

.

We have become very accustomed to these occurrences over the

years and they are fairly commonplace, so I don't feel afraid. I would,

however, be very interested to know if any of you might have similar

experiences.

Saturday Morning Breakfast

It was a glorious spring morning and WT and I had breakfast on the

patio. The grass has turned from brown stubble to emerald green

almost overnight! It's still early in the season, but I couldn't wait and

potted a few flowers for the patio this week. I found this little clover

at the garden center. This variety has four leaves...must be extra lucky!