What was your first job?
My first job was as a reporter at the Sullivan County Democrat in Callicoon, where I worked during the summers when I was home from college. It was an interesting time in our river valley—the National Park Service was holding public hearings on the Upper Delaware wild and scenic park plan, and there was lots of fist shaking and yelling going on. It was exciting, and eventually I even learned how to operate the 35mm camera so that my photos of those wild crowds came out in focus. Read more
There comes a point in the winter when the winter is all it seems there is to talk about—or write about. It’s easy to say that more than half of winter is over except for this daily nitty-gritty contest with snow and ice. John, my husband, puts it bluntly, “When spring comes this year, people are going to go nuts.” Read more
After the evening news, my kids have been watching re-runs of the old TV show M*A*S*H on channel 38 from Scranton, one of the few channels that comes in via antenna on our 12-inch set (a set bought back before the end of the Cold War). Read more
I’ve been out buying drill bit sets and bottles of wine, Godiva truffles and a gingerbread man cookie mix that comes complete with cookie cutters shaped in ninja poses. And let’s not forget the pink duct tape with the Scottie dog pattern for my great niece. Read more
We had a good yield of pumpkins from our garden this year—a grand total of 14 from the few seeds we planted. The plants were lush and twining, woven with the morning glories. They even sought out the branches of the neighboring fir tree for a frolic. Considering our usual lackluster results, this year’s harvest was a bumper crop. Read more
I came home from work this morning to find a package left on my doorstep. The box, left by the mail carrier, was stamped with these red lettered instructions: “open immediately.” So, with curiosity, I did—to find three heirloom crown imperial bulbs nestled in the classified section of an Ann Arbor newspaper. Read more
When people ask that ubiquitous question, “What did you do on your summer vacation?” this year, my husband, John, has to say, “I did a lot of digging—in the cellar.” It’s an answer that always brings a laugh or raises an eyebrow or both. But I assure you, it is meant in the most innocent of ways. Yes, John also took hikes, grew sunflowers and swam in the ocean. And he really did spend a good part of the summer in the cellar of this old house. Read more
Anyone driving through the village of Hancock, NY (my home town), has undoubtedly noticed the fresh, green grass of the new town square. You’ll see the new bandstand and a new pavilion, too, and as of last week, the newly planted trees and a wrought iron archway, which proclaims “Town Square Hancock New York, Gateway to the Upper Delaware.” Read more
Lucy Ann Lobdell is among us again.
This woman, known as “The Hunter” to my family and old time neighbors, is the subject of a new historical novel, “The Rebellion of Miss Lucy Ann Lobdell,” by Fremont Center, NY resident William Klaber (Greenleaf Book Group Press, June 18, 2013).
A fictionalized memoir, the book traces Lucy’s life as she made her way in the world after she changed into her brother John’s clothes, bound her chest, and left home to live her life as a man named Joseph. Read more
I’ve always had tough feet. It is a distinction garnered from my childhood days of running barefoot around our farm—turning tour jetes through the hard stubble left after the grass had been cut and baled during haying season.
While I mainly wear shoes now, I still have those callouses. Partly from all those years of ballet lessons and feet-warping toe shoes, but also from the summers spent bunching and tossing and stacking hay bales with my family and neighbors.
That was back when all bales were square and tied with bailing twine and not the large, round bales mainly seen today. Read more