Category Archives: memories

Round center of historic roof of West Baden Springs hotel with green light at center.

Indiana Adventure II: Sampling Historic Splendor (for Free) in French Lick

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Taking our trip around SW Indiana somewhat out of order, I am jumping to our day in French Lick and West Baden Springs, Indiana. In case you never heard of these historically significant towns, they are an example of those places where people took trains (or perhaps drove their motorcars) from “the city” (Indianapolis, or Chicago, or other Mid-Western metropolises) to “take the waters.”

The massive resorts had their ups and downs, which I will not elaborate on here, but happily survived Jesuits, fires, the Sheraton Hotel company, and other perils to be restored to their former glory. Today, the relatively wealthy and sometimes even famous spend time in the hallowed halls and grounds, getting spa treatments, gambling at the casino, taking in a show, playing golf or just relaxing. Peggy and I, however, took it all in (as the cheap voyeurs we are) without spending a dime.

Here, I shall share our itinerary for a couple of hours of historic splendor and awe. First, we did spend a few bucks fortifying ourselves with ice cream, and wandered around downtown French Lick. Unfortunately, it was Sunday and the historical museum was closed, but we got the gist of “Pluto Water” which was a one-time bottled product of the Springs, from objects readable from the museum’s window, and from an old advertisement on the side of one of the buildings. A jaunty, muscular devil was their brand icon, and their slogan was “When nature won’t, Pluto will” (I.e., this was a natural laxative kind of beverage).

Next, we drove across the road and parked (for free) at the expansive lot in front of the French Lick Hotel. On our way into the lobby, we read historic markers including one about the invention of tomato juice, and then ascended the impressive staircase. We marveled awhile at the ornate lobby, and inquired about the historic trolley which transports people to West Baden Springs, and stopped to glance over cases of historic artifacts (including more Pluto water paraphernalia) and the famous people photos.

Next, after waiting a few minutes at the charming little depot, we boarded the (free!) trolley for the one-mile clackety clack trip through the woods to West Baden Springs. We disembarked and headed straight into the hotel and through the lobby. Once dubbed “the Eighth Wonder of the World” (how many of those are there?), one really needs to experience the hotel’s massive central atrium, which features a 200-foot dome, for oneself to get a sense of its scale and unique design.

Luckily, again for free, mere mortals can loll on a couch in the atrium and stare up at the dome and the hotel rooms arranged around it, for as long as one likes. Peggy and I did just that, zoning out and watching the lights at the top of the dome changing colors. “Are we really here?” and “Is this really real?” we had to ask ourselves.

Breaking away from the mesmerizing atrium, we walked around the atrium to view the enormous Rookwood pottery fireplace, featuring “Sprudel” – an impish figure frolicking among the landscape of the artwork. We roamed the circular hallways enjoying historic photos, and spent a few minutes learning more about the property’s history in their tiny museum.

Here we learned that a movie had been recently shot in the hotel and on the grounds, called “How Cold the River” the plot of which leans heavily on a very ominous bottle of Pluto water. (We had to watch it, of course, after we got home to Peggy’s house. Not highly recommended for anything except the great views of the hotel, and a few laughs at the rather incomprehensible plot.)

After a brief amble around the garden, we climbed aboard the trolley to return through the woods and over the creek to French Lick, our car, and reality. Having spent not a penny, but all the richer for our trip through time and space.

Not actually The Devil, but Pluto, god of the underworld…close enough and still as creepy.
Splendor #1, the lobby of the French Lick Hotel. Thank goodness an influx of millions saved it from the renovation done by the Sheraton Hotel company, which covered the amazing tile work and other ornamentation. What were they thinking??
More homage to Pluto Water. The framed postcard at the bottom dated 1937 and says “Pluto keeps the tin canner on the can.” It looks like a camper made from a Pluto truck and/or advertising the water, which somehow was spotted in Kenosha, WI. That Pluto really got around.
First view of the West Baden Springs hotel, exterior. It is hard to fathom what lies inside from here, but still highly impressive from the outside.
And now… the star of the show! The Atrium. Note small love seat type couches, which is where we sprawled ourselves, totally entranced by the dome lights cycling through their colors. The windows all around the atrium are hotel rooms, and the approximately $300/night might be worth the view.
Though dwarfed (so to speak) by the Atrium, Sprudel’s fireplace, made up of hundreds of pieces of famous Rookwood pottery, burned 14 foot logs… so nothing to scoff at.
All aboard the magical historic trolley for the all too brief ride back to the real world!

Indiana Adventure I: Adze the World Turns

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On a recent trip to Indiana, my old stomping grounds (from starting grad school in 1977 to leaving for a job at the Smithsonian in 1987), I had many adventures with my dear friend and fellow “wander Indiana” enthusiast, Peggy Sailors. I will report in a series of scenarios and photos!

Adventure #1 was a trip to Terre Haute to attend the “Art of the Adze” exhibition curated by colleague Jon Kay, the State Folklorist of Indiana. I had once held this position for a couple of years in the early 1980s, but he’s really done a much finer (and longer lasting) job of it, I must admit. He and his intrepid research assistant, Katya Chomitzky, curated this lovely exhibition on wooden bowl hewing (AKA “chopping”). They had planned a “Chop In” or “Chop-a-Thon” featuring a gaggle of wooden bowl artisans, which we could not miss.

This event took place at the otherwise tony small art museum, the Swope, in the middle of downtown Terre Haute. Just a wood chip’s toss from quiet galleries featuring works of Grant Wood, Edward Hopper, and Andy Warhol, among others, the din of the the chopping of three generations of bowl makers rang out joyfully. A museum volunteer gamely tried to contain the chips (which fell “where they may” and defied staying on the tarps that had been laid down to protect the floor) with a broom.

Present in spirit, and in memory, was the Father of All Indiana Bowl Choppers, Bill Day, from West Lebanon (may he rest in peace, though maybe he’s chopping bowls beyond the Pearly Gates and driving St. Peter to distraction?). Peggy and I had interviewed Bill and visited with him and his wife Marion while working on a state-wide crafts exhibition called “Materials at Hand.” (More about that at a later date, as it really bears a revisit.)

Bill was a short but powerful retired farmer, with a distinctive high-pitched scratchy voice and an even more distinctive laugh (something like the braying of a donkey combined with a buzz saw maybe?). He honed, so to speak, his already wide knowledge of working with wood into a second career of splitting logs for fence rails. Then, when Marion brought home an old wooden bowl from an antique store, he pondered how to make such a vessel. After perfecting the method (which requires hewing large pieces of green wood with a series of adzes) and making a noisy mess in their house, Marion shoed him out. He rented a small former utility building in “downtown” West Lebanon, dubbed Bill’s Chop Shop.

Bill’s work earns a prominent place in the exhibition, and his memory is well preserved by the older current choppers in attendance a the Chop-In. It was gratifying to hear them speak so fondly of Bill and his work, his generosity of spirit in teaching others, and his time as resident bowl chopper at the Indiana State Fair’s “Pioneer Village.” And also to see that the “art of the adze” is being passed on down the generations. (The youngest chopper in attendance at the event was a strapping 15-year old.) And to see that several women have found their way to bowl chopping, too!

Check out the exhibition and Chop-In!

Peggy (right) and me (left) pose in front of the sign that pays homage to Bill Day and even mentions us!

The sounds and sites of the Chop-In! Featuring in this grouping, the Ruble family, led by patriarch Keith, who succeeded Bill Day as chief bowl chopper at the State Fair. He taught his sons Andy and Luke and daughter in law Kasey, all seen (and heard) chopping here.

Choppers assembled to exchange info and get their photo taken in the gallery. Youngest chopper, Luke Boyll, is in right forefront with his teacher/mentor Blaine Berry.
View of exhibition showing in forefront some excellent examples of Bill Days work. (These were loaned by Peggy!)
Terre Haute, as it says on this historic marker, is located at the cross-roads of America, as this historic marker tells us. This spot being the crossing of US Highway 40 and 41. Which just goes to show that Indiana is at the center of all good adventures…so tune in next time for more!

There’s More to Baltimore

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Baltimore…so close to DC but a whole other experience. A couple of weeks ago, my sister was visiting from South Carolina, and we took a brief but action-packed journey to Charm City. She had some Marriot points, so we stayed “in style” right on the Inner Harbor near Pier 5. A room with a view from the 14th floor, no less.

The first things we did, after checking into our hotel, was to walk around the harbor to the Visitor Center. Here we met an amiable older gent named Sonny, who took us under his wing and gave us excellent suggestions on sites and how to get there. Handing us a map of the bus routes, he explained the free circulator bus that would get us just about anywhere worth going.

We ignored his first suggestion of visiting Fort McHenry, as we wanted to stay closer to the harbor. Instead, we took the short walk over to Cross Street Market in the Federal Hill neighborhood, and had a delicious Haitian vegetarian meal from one of the stands. Next, a visit to the incomparable American Visionary Arts Museum, also in the neighborhood. A brief but free water taxi ride later, we were back at our hotel to rest up before dinner. We picked Sonny’s choice, one of the oldest restaurants in nearby Little Italy, Chiapparelli‘s. Even though I thought there was no way to fit more food into my stomach, we then walked to Fell’s Point for gelato.

Our second day, we set out on the Circulator bus to the Johns Hopkins University campus, where the Baltimore Museum of Art is located. (First, we had to fortify ourselves by walking a few blocks east to a commercial strip of neighborhood for some coffee and bagels.) I was especially impressed by the Cone Sisters collection, which includes a lot of Impressionists and things that the rich sisters had bought from Gertrude Stein when she needed money.

Next, we set off for Lexington Market. You can’t take a free circulator bus there directly, so we had to do some map-reading to figure it out, but it was only about four blocks from the purple line route. The last time I visited Lexington Market, it was in the “old building” which is right next door to the “new building” which most businesses have moved to. Except Faidley’s, the quintessential destination for what is touted as the best crab cake in Baltimore, which we had to experience. Indeed, it is a masterpiece, especially eaten standing up at a wooden table. The patina of their of the old location, open since 1886, will never be matched if/when they move to the new building.

After a visit to the nearby graveyard where Edgar Allen Poe’s mortal remains reside, we realized that the “arts crawl” in the Bromo District that we had signed up for was – horrors – actually the next week (duh!), but that gave us a good excuse to go back to our hotel and chill for awhile before seeking a light dinner, and then indulging in a marathon Food Channel watching spree.

The next morning, we awoke to the golden light bouncing off the harborscape, packed up and took ourselves to the iconic (but perhaps overrated) Miss Shirley’s Cafe‘s downtown location, and drove back home. Only the fact that we had walked many miles both days kept us from having gained five pounds.

Left: View from the “Bird’s Nest” at the American Visionary Art Museum, looking toward main building and downtown. Below: Baltimore painted screen exhibition at the museum.

Free water taxi across the harbor.
Despite its many good points, trying to get from one point to another within the Baltimore Museum of Art is not intuitive in the least. We must have gone through the Jon Waters Rotunda, where this curious piece of art resides, at least four times to reach other exhibitions!
Now, that’s what I call a crab cake! It’s at least the size of a softball, maybe bigger.
Golden morning light on the harbor, looking west.

That was Just Jan

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I learned that my friend and colleague Jan Rosenberg had died from another friend and colleague, Sue Eleuterio, in a text about a week ago while I was having an otherwise happy day with my daughter who was visiting for the holidays. M.E. didn’t remember Jan too well, but here they are, in the only photo I could ever remember taking of Jan (at left, at a conference in Bloomington circa. 1992, Jan at right, long time secretary of the IU Folklore Department Velma Carmichael at the left).

When someone dies, you always immediately think of the last time you spoke to them. I called Jan around Christmas, and after playing telephone tag for awhile as we often did, we connected and chatted about her research, her book currently at the publishers, and the next thing she wanted to do. And about how hard going to dialysis a few times a week was for her but how nice the drivers who took her there were.

Lately, our conversations started as strong as usual, the same old Jan, a mixture of complaining, complimenting, laughing, and talking seriously about our work as folklorists. But I could tell that she was getting tired when she started not making as much sense, admitting to not having a lot of stamina. That final call ended abruptly when she said “she had to go.” I assumed she would call back at some point in the future when she felt up to it. Should I have tried to call her again later to make sure she was okay? Probably.

What’s the next thing you think about when someone dies? When I thought about Jan, I remembered that we had not seen each other very often, usually at American Folklore Society meetings where we’d steal away for coffee or, for her, a beer (in my memory, she rarely ate a decent meal, so lunch or dinner were usually not on the docket). She did visit us back when we lived in Olney, Maryland, staying for several days while she did research at the Library of Congress. (She had driven in her white truck with her dog, whose name I don’t recall. I don’t recall where she was living at the time, but it was a far piece. She didn’t like flying.)

I remembered the many long phone calls over the years, during which we usually hashed over the state of Folklore and Education endlessly. Why were folklorists always “reinventing the wheel” of folklore and ed? Why was something so obviously important (and with many historic antecedents, as Jan had documented over the years) still ignored by most mainstream educators? What could we do about it, if anything?

I recall one phone call, which lasted most of the way between Arlington, VA and Harrisburg, PA where I was driving to a Middle Atlantic Folklorists Association conference. So, at least two hours, which was common. I don’t recall everything we were talking about, but it certainly made the drive more fun, to have Jan there virtually in the car with me. There was no such thing as a short phone call with Jan.

I recall, when we did get together in person, she smelled like the heavy smoker she was. I remember her laugh, which was hearty and frequent, even when being expressed more in exasperation than mirth, and usually ended in her smoker’s cough. She had a deep sense of the irony in things. She cut to the chase. She was kind, curious, fiercely loyal to her friends, compassionate, and stubborn. Quirky, individualistic, and very much her own person.

Her expression in this photo is a little hard to read. A bit of amusement, a bit of tenderness, a bit of uncertainty. That was just Jan.

A Very Philly Holiday Trip

Round Barn Press blog, travel

With the premise that we must see the current Matisse in the Thirties exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, even though none of us is a huge Matisse fan, I devised a mini-vacation to Philly for our little family. Christmas in Philadelphia, we were assured by tourism sites, is full of lights, vibrancy, and shopping opportunities.

We’d been to New York City at Christmastime in the past, and it was a big, crowded mess around Times Square and Rockefeller Center. Exciting, buzzing with activity, but a bit too frenetic for me. Downtown Philly had a lot of energy, but a much more relaxed and laid-back excitement. It seemed more full of locals than tourists.

It helped that everything we set out to see downtown was very compact, within an easy walking distance of the downtown hotel we picked. And, even though Philly has a sort of rough, gritty reputation for those of us from “more civilized” Washington, DC, even after dark we felt perfectly safe.

Here is our Philly travelogue in photos and captions. Thanks, Philly, for sharing your exuberant holiday spirit with our family. Here’s hoping everyone finds and keeps their own inspiration for a safe, happy and healthy holiday and carries that feeling into 2023!

We arrived in time to catch the four o’clock light and sound show at Macy’s, which is right across from City Hall. People get there early and camp out to get the best view from the first or second floor. (So go early and just wait!) It’s less than 15 minutes but they cram a lot of lights, projections and storyline (narrated by Julie Andrews no less), and of course the famous Wanamaker Organ, which is this time of year mostly behind the color-changing Christmas tree.
Next stop, since by then we were really hungry, was Chinatown. We’d scoped out a no frills noodle house with good reviews, and it didn’t disappoint. We had to take the dumplings we ordered with us, since our big bowls of noodle soup filled us up and fortified us for the next leg of the adventure.
Franklin Square, not far from Chinatown, has a brief light show and a family vibe. In addition to the lights, you can play mini-golf or sit around a fire pit enjoying hot beverages. (Note the “kite and key” theme.)
Back to the heart of downtown where City Hall is abuzz with activity, from a ferris wheel to an ice rink (where we stood, transfixed, watching the Zamboni groom the ice – what is it about that?) and lots more.
One side of City Hall has a light show with imaginative interpretations of holiday songs. (This part reminded me more of a birthday cake than the holidays, but it was festive anyhow.)
Nearby Love Park hosts sales stalls in their “authentic German Market.” (Bratwurst and sauerkraut, anyone?) It was fun to roam around checking out the holiday wares, and I especially liked the display of glass ornaments on offer.
Reading Terminal Market, still going strong after opening its doors in 1893, was also a short walk from our hotel and the perfect place to find breakfast options before our Museum visit that suited all of our tastes. I picked this crepe with egg, cheese and veggies, while Steve had a really messy but yummy and healthy-looking vegan sandwich and M.E. chose Tom Kha soup from a Thai stall. Something for everyone!
Okay, finally on to visiting Matisse. I liked these two interpretations of the Nice waterfront. (I got kind of sick of all the nudes in various iterations, large, small, and in between.) As I sat on a bench contemplating the similarities and differences of these two works, a mom and daughter (around 7 or 8) sitting next to me discussed the paintings. The mom asked the daughter which one she preferred and she had some interesting reasons for liking the one to the right, including that the green of the trees reminded her of guacamole.
After we had our fill of Matisse, we split up and headed to see other art in this vast and varied museum. You could (and should) spend hours and hours here exploring the three floors of mostly European, American and Asian art. I headed to the Impressionists, but then wandered around the American and Asian art, encountering period rooms, decorative arts such as this collection of American glass pieces, and other wonders.
I encountered several of the museum’s installations of reproduced temples, a Japanese tea house, and parts of Medieval churches, all very atmospheric. This 500 year old Chinese temple ceiling is incredibly intricate.
I somehow happened upon this contemporary installation of lights, which seemed very holiday-ish given the time of year. Apparently, several museums have iterations by this Dutch artistic group (called Drift), and no two are quite the same. (And they do a lot of other cool stuff too.) According to their web site, “DRIFT manifests the phenomena and hidden properties of nature with the use of technology in order to learn from the Earth’s underlying mechanisms and to re-establish our connection to it.” What’s not to like about that?
Garden seen through a gate on either side with lone figure on right side.

Playing Tourist Around Town

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Sometimes, we forget that the Washington, DC area has so much to see and do. We get complacent in our own immediate home spaces, or think we need to get far away to “get away.” This late summer and early fall, I’ve been trying to prove that theory wrong by being a tourist in my own town (or city in this case). Here’s some of the places worth a visit.

Green spaces are particularly abundant in the DC area. The National Arboretum off New York Avenue has over 400 acres and “9 miles of winding roadways” to explore by foot or by car. There’s always something blooming throughout the growing season, and even in winter you can go “forest bathing” apparently. (That is not a bath in the woods, but some sort of guided nature walk.) You can walk all the way down to the Anacostia River and sit contemplating life. If you are into growing your own food, my husband and I discovered there is also an extensive vegetable garden with educational programs.

While the Arboretum is free, to enter Dumbarton Oaks garden in Georgetown you have to pay a reasonable fee. My visiting sister and I thought it was highly worth the admission. We took a guided tour with one of the docents, who imparted interesting information, like how the vegetation, walls and lawn furnishings create “garden rooms” all around the grounds. Then we wandered up and down the multi-level property admiring the late summer blooms and hidden spaces. If we’d had more time, we could have also visited the historic house/museum, which is free.

Speaking of Georgetown, the C&O canal runs through its downtown. Its pathway makes for a pleasant walk, although until recently a lot of it was choked with weeds and not particularly picturesque. Now, for the first time in years, a new semi-accurate historic canal boat is available for tours, with a costumed guide. My “Lunch O’Clock” work buddies and I took a ride on the revamped vessel on a lovely day in late September. I’m still not sure I understand how locks work, but that’s okay. It was fun to go through one.

Historic houses also abound in the Washington, DC Metro area. My husband and friend Janette stumbled upon the Clara Barton House near Glen Echo Park one day after attending a festival at the park. Run by the National Park Service, this spacious house was built for Civil War nurse-hero and founder of the American Red Cross by the guys who built the park – sort of a long story, but anyhow, she designed it and used it for a home and headquarters. It is kind of sparsely furnished right now due to some renovations, but very atmospheric, and interesting to learn about this phase of her life.

Being a tourist in your own town/city is fun, economical, and can cause you to look at things from different angles. As we ease into the late fall and winter, we will no doubt be cocooning at home more, but I look forward to exploring more DC sites in the future. It’s a good time to start making a list!

View from a bench along the Anacostia River at the base of the Asian Garden, National Arboretum.
A tour of Dumbarton Oaks begins in the Orangerie not far from the entrance. The greenery running along the top of the walls and over the beams, we learned, is all part of one indoor tree which is over 100 years old. Crazy!
Every corner of Dumbarton Oaks has structures, walls and walkways accentuating the gardens. The fall colors were gorgeous.
This non-historically-dressed helper kept the Georgetown canal boat from hitting the sides of the canal during our ride, which was quite breezy. (Gave us the illusion of being on a very large and unwieldy gondola.)
Opening the lock gate to let in the water! Or was it let out the water? To me, this whole process still defies physics and logic. But it has worked for hundreds of years, so no matter.
Inside the Clara Barton house, looking up the levels. You couldn’t go above the first floor, so just had to sort of imagine the rooms up there.
All along the hallway on the first floor, Barton designed ingenious hidden closets. They just look like panelling from the outside, but from the inside reveal storage space for medical supplies, training materials, and office items.
I got out on the water kayaking, seeing familiar sites from new perspectives, as well. The DC boat houses sell season passes, and there are five of them along the Potomac and Anacostia. The Potomac can be a challenging paddle sometimes due to currents, and you have to watch for everyone else in (usually bigger) boats plying the waters!

More Blooming

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Spring keeps yoyoing around here this year. It gets warm, and then warmer, and then back in the 50s again. Still have not liberated the little tomatoes and peppers (some of which are quite large now!) from their pots yet. But the greens and radishes are flourishing, at least.

Gardening and work on our upcoming Earth Optimism x Folklife program for the 2022 Smithsonian Folklife Festival are about all I’ve had time for lately, with a couple of Easter celebrations thrown in for good measure.

And a visit to other gardens, as you will see below. Hope to have something more exciting and further afield next month (as once a month seems to be the average for me posting this year). But for now, here are some pictures from my April-early May “blooming adventures”!

Once again, my bleeding heart plant rose from nowhere and produced its delicate blooms.
My friend Marianne invited me to tour the White House gardens with her. I was impressed by the kitchen garden!
These were my favorite orchids at the annual Smithsonian orchid exhibition which honored women’s contributions to orchid research and conservation. Yeah, women!
I was trying to get a clear shot of the bees feasting on these azaleas at the Brighton Dam Azalea Garden in Maryland. You can sort of see the bee in the lower right or at least his/her “bee butt.”
Okay, not a blossom but even tastier and as pretty as a flower…. our friend Khamo brought her homemade momo dumplings to our little Orthodox Easter celebration. Delish!
And, just for fun… seen on my walk to the Virginia Square metro!

Rest in Peace Elinor

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Since mid-November, it’s been a rocky road for our small family. While my brother in law, Bob McFadden, was in home hospice in Hilton Head, SC, my mom had two trips to the Hilton Head hospital. Bob passed away on December 2. Mom rallied a bit, able to come to my sister’s home from the nursing home for Christmas Eve via wheelchair van.

It was clear, though, that she was in decline, very frail and not taking pleasure in much of anything. I went home after Christmas, but was back for Bob’s memorial service in mid-January. The plan was to stay through my mom’s 96th birthday on January 28, but it became even more clear that she was not doing well, staying in bed almost exclusively and increasingly confused and in pain.

I stayed, and my sister and I went every day to visit, often finding her sleeping fitfully, or just plain knocked out by the strong pain killers she needed to make her some level of comfortable. On her birthday, we brought her favorite Chinese take-out and a decorated cake; she spent the day in a semi-stupor and didn’t get to enjoy any of it.

She lasted almost another two weeks, tenuously holding on to life, passing away finally on the morning of February 7. So sad, but finally at peace.

She was not always the easiest person to love, but we did regardless. She will be remembered for her sense of humor (sometimes a bit bawdy); her colorful sayings, many of which I find myself using as they are so ingrained; her love of cooking and food, which was hard to see her deprived of when she started losing her taste buds and desire to eat even the most tempting dishes; and her feistiness in general. She was mentally sharp up to the later stages of her decline.

Here are is a slide show with some fairly recent photos from my digital stock; there are so many more from the days of print photos of course which I will get around to digitizing some day maybe. I may do another blog later that delving into her earlier life, as I whiled away hospital hours during her first stay by doing a recorded interview. Hours of memory cannot be condensed into a few words or photos, but it helps to share some of this with friends. Cherish your loved ones, for all their faults, all the days of their lives.

  • Collage using some of over 100 cards she received for her 95th birthday. Some of you might recognize the ones you sent!
  • She loved her seafood, including the lobster special at Reilly’s Pub.
  • On her 90th birthday, we gave her 90 presents!
  • Granddaughter Mary Elinor (M.E.) Francis enjoyed learning about her mom’s early exploits through photos.
  • A visit to DC before she stopped traveling much; M.E. in full teenage mode.
  • Hilton Head “bestie” Betty Sebastian, her next door neighbor, was her game and pizza might buddy while they still lived in their homes.
  • Decorating Christmas cookies was a holiday ritual.
  • The cookie master.
  • Flower arranging at her assisted living facility was a hit. She did have a flair for it.
  • A cookie decorating session in assisted living which I masterminded.
  • M.E.’s high school graduation in 2009.
  • A trip with my sister to St. Augustine, FL when she was still able to travel.
  • She loved presents, giving and getting. A happy holiday moment.
  • Hamming it up for the camera. Bye, Mom!
  • At the “home nail salon” with M.E. as the nail technician.

New Year’s Revelations

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Since New Year’s Resolutions usually don’t work out very well, I decided “revelations” would be more fun to explore. But really this a sort of review of things I’ve been doing and places I’ve been in the past couple of months, that did not make it into my other 2021 blogs. But I’ll try to frame them as “revelations” to fit into my chosen theme!

But for those of you who actually like resolutions, there’s a fun way to make some, courtesy a randomly generated wacky collection courtesy the new Futures exhibition currently in the refurbished Smithsonian Arts and Industries building. Just follow that link, and click in the white box inside the green circle with the little robot looking thing in the right bottom corner. It’s sort of addictive. My favorite one was “As often as possible I will fire things from a trebuchet.” (My daughter and I have a thing for trebuchets after seeing a show on PBS about them one time years ago.)

2022 still sounds rather futuristic, but it’s here. I always try to end on a hopeful note in these blogs, so here’s hoping for some good things this year. Meanwhile, here are my “illustrated relevations.” (NOTE ABOUT FEATURED IMAGE ABOVE: This plate of tandoori roasted vegetables at a Jersey City, NJ Indian restaurant, encountered in November, was a true revelation of deliciousness. The American flag is a nice touch, too. Here’s to more culinary adventures in 2022 like this one!)

Sometimes revelations come close to home. Here, the new canal boat that will, later this year, start taking tourists on a historic journey along the C&O canal is revealed to be sitting around waiting in Georgetown.
As friends and family celebrated the life of my husband’s cousin Wendy, who passed away in November, in the outdoor dining structure of a restaurant in Greenwich Village, NYC, a humongous thunder, lightning and hail storm blew through. While we were skeptical that we would emerge unscathed, it was a revelation that these pandemic inspired structures are really quite sturdy. And that the temperature can drop 30 degrees in a matter of minutes.
The camelia garden at the Hilton Head Island Coastal Discovery Center is a revelation. Who knew there were so many types of camelias and that they bloomed so beautifully in December? Well, the Camelia Society did of course!
While I knew my father once sported a very jaunty ‘stache, finding this image in my mom’s collection of randomly arranged photos was a revelation just the same. My daughter got a kick out – she never knew my dad but is getting an idea of his sense of humor and “spirit of adventure” from these old photos.
The annual decorating of the cookies is always revealing of the strange imaginations of my daughter, husband and even myself. I actually turned what was supposed to be holly into The Yellow Submarine this year.
Not sure of the revelation here, though I guess you can count the lottery scratch-offs that are a holiday tradition with us as “revealing” what you win or mostly don’t win. Here my mother, who will be 96 the end of January, and M.E. commune at my sister’s on Christmas eve, with Hunter the Dog joining in.
Circling back to revelations almost in your own back yard, here an image of the wetlands boardwalk at Huntley Meadows in nearby Alexandria. My friend Janette and I took a nice long New Year’s Eve walk there, before the weather turned and it snowed (on January 3!). Here’s to more adventures near and far in 2022!

Spring Brings the Cicadas

cicadas, Round Barn Press blog,

Our neighborhood is abuzz, but it’s not from human gossip. It’s from our once-in-seventeeen- years visitors, the cicadas. Yes, they started emerging in earnest after it stopped dipping down into the 40s at night and then, like it usually does in the Washington, DC area, shot instantly into the 90s.

They are dubbed “Brood X” which makes them sound to me sort of like characters in a sci-fy/ noir movie mash-up. Our colleague Jim has written an article for our work web site about why the X, and also many other aspects of cicada folklore and folklife, which is a good read.

While our own backyard doesn’t have nearly the numbers some do, there is still this constant, undulating “zizz-zizz” in the background when you venture outside, and scores (if not billions) of dopey or dead specimens hanging out. Here’s what they look and sound like:

It’s not really that big a nuisance, and actually it’s pretty cool. And, as a result, you too can become a Citizen Scientist by downloading the app “Cicada Safari” and uploading your photos, which get added to a map.

They’ll be gone before we know it. So, we might as well make the most of them. But I will not be trying any in recipes, which we knew were bound to be on offer, right?