We had a gentle, slow-moving weekend. Some of us read a novel and watched orange leaves moving against blue sky, after the rain had stopped.
Some of us found new places to nap.
I cut up an amazing heirloom Goldman’s Italian American tomato from the garden to make what may be the last bruschettas of the season.
And enjoyed them very much.
Wolfie died on August 1st. He had been sick for several months so it was no surprise, but after living with him for 17 years I felt abruptly cut loose.
The following week I brought his ashes home in a little cardboard box with a label that read, “This is Wolfie. The companion of Estyn Hulbert.” — which I find strangely compelling. Tightly fitted inside was another box, this one made of something solid and mahogany-colored with a beveled edge at the top.
I had thought I would bury his ashes right away, but the box is still sitting on my studio desk and I can’t bring myself to spread his remains in the damp fall earth. Maybe I’ll wait until spring, when the dampness promises warmth and growth instead of dark days and freezing. Wolfie spent his final years being an old grump of a feline, so I think I’ll plant a crabapple tree over him, in honor of his crabbyness.
The household feels lopsided without him but Annabelle, Maxie, Noola and I are slowly adjusting. Extra love. Extra kindness. For all of us.
I found this via How’s Robb?. It’s worth watching and worth watching as large as possible.
Hefted from Dreamtime Film on Vimeo.
‘Tis the season of abundance. I am stashing food like a crazed squirrel, stuffing tomatoes, ratatouille, corn, peppers and beans into the freezer daily.
The sweet autumn clematis sounds like a hive of bees when you get close. They’re like me, gathering food in a frenzy.
Food and fuel.
If you visit Flickr you may have seen that the Library of Congress posted some of Lewis Hine’s photographs of child labor. They’re amazing. They were taken between 1908 and 1924 but I feel like I’m right there with him, witnessing.
Rhodes Mfg. Co., Lincolnton, N.C. Spinner. A moments glimpse of the outer world. Said she was 10 years old. Been working over a year. 1908 November.
I thought I knew this photograph from The History of Photography by Beaumont Newhall, one of my college textbooks. But I looked it up and the book photograph is of a different girl, perhaps working at the same mill? There must have been so many mills and factories full of kids.
Little Fannie, 7 years old, 48 inches high, helps sister in Elk Mills. Her sister (in photo) said, “Yes, she he’ps me right smart. Not all day but all she can. Yes, she started with me at six this mornin’.” These two belong to a family of 19 children. 1910 November.
Lunch Time, Economy Glass Works, Morgantown, W. Va. Plenty more like this, inside. 1908 October.
I love the mystery arm on the right and the chalked graffiti heads on the door. I wonder if children worked at the Ellenville Glass Works that used to operate in my village.
Manuel, the young shrimp-picker, five years old, and a mountain of child-labor oyster shells behind him. He worked last year. Understands not a word of English. Dunbar, Lopez, Dukate Company. 1911 February.
I can’t help remembering that my grandmothers were born in 1909 and 1914, respectively. Just a few years after these kids.
