We awoke to more snow and bad roads. My day rapidly became limited to taking/letting dogs in and out . . . Bob adores the snow and went off leash with John down to the chicken house and down to the lower place.
But I'm in a hurry to get back to my writing and researching --
good old Mr. Google has so many answers.
A remark by Mario on Facebook, in response to my post about Civil War photographers, about the discarded glass plate negatives being used to make greenhouses gave me an idea for a scene set some years after the war so off I went in search of more information.
" Each photo left a
negative plate, I mean a plate of glass like 8in x 10in. The question is what
happen to these photo negative glass plates?
If you go to a greenhouse built in the years
following the civil war to 1900, you will find them. They were used as the
glass the made up the greenhouse. The sun has faded most of the images away but
if you go in the dark corners of these greenhouse, you will still see images on
them from the civil war...."
But then some questions were raised as to whether this is factual. Evidently many of these glass negatives survive in collections.
Evidently nothing is proven. But I'm writing fiction and it's such a lovely image, I'll probably use it -- perhaps not a whole green house, maybe justa bay window for house plants. And the wife of the disgraced Colonel will tend her indoor garden under the fading gaze of Confederate and Union soldiers. . .
But what house plans would she tend? Mr. Google to the rescue!
Ferns, evidently, abutilon, citrus, palms, and aspidistra would have been popular.
And I learn that in the Victorian era, "houseplants became a moral issue. . . preachers and writers insisted that the beauty of nature could effectively lead people toward moral goodness. Plants provided the easy path toward salvation." Ooh, I think I see how to use this . . . thanks, Mr. Google!
Yesterday was the memorial service for our friend Libby . . .
Many moving and beautiful words were said in tribute to this amazing woman who
touched so many lives . . .
It was one of those occasions when people who'd not seen each other for many years tried to figure out just who that white haired woman or elderly man was . .
Some of us have, like Libby and her husband, been here for forty years or more . . .
Long enough to see children grow up, move away, move back, marry, have children . . . long enough for a few of those children to have children . . . at least one of us early back-to the-landers is a great grandmother . . .
It was a fine gathering of community --
and a fine tribute to a woman who did so much for and meant so much to the community.
It was, however, a little unsettling to overhear someone saying to a friend,
"See you next time."
That's what I call a "Send not to know for whom the bell tolls . . ." kind of moment. . .
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