tyranny – In the Woods

making progress

Beverly (9), Skipper (new Sheltie puppy), Barbara (10)
off-season on a Dennis, Cape Cod beach, 1967

On Monday I finished boxes #9 and #10 of the 14 family history boxes I’m going through. #9 had taken about a month, but #10 only took an afternoon, being mostly books which were either shelved or dispatched. Above and below are two of the photo treasures I found. So many fond memories taking our Shetland Sheepdog, Skipper, to the Cape to visit my grandparents! Too few pictures!

I was able to identify my Ukrainian immigrant grandparents (William & Katherine) in the picture below, standing on either side of the porch steps. This was the funeral for their son, Jon, who came to America with his mother when he was only 5 months old. He died at age 9 of appendicitis. The little girls in front of the coffin are my aunt Lil, who was 4, and my aunt Jean, who was 6. Auntie Lil lived to be 101 years old when she died, and she often remembered her beloved big brother, who would share whatever candy he had with her. (My father was born 3 years after Jon died.) I have no idea who the other people are in the photo, but my guess is that they are members of the church they attended.

Funeral picture for Jon Stephen Chomiak (1909-1919)
younger sisters Lillian Elizabeth and Augusta Jean standing in front of coffin
parents William & Katherine standing on either side of steps,
behind the older unidentified girls, March 1919

A picture of Jon was posted here: Augusta Jean & John Stephen.

ancient and contemporary art

a schist sculpture of a Buddha figure from the 3rd century CE, from the Gandharan region of Pakistan, seated on a lotus throne, wearing ascetic robes

Friday we took Kat and her friend with us to the Ackland Art Museum in Chapel Hill and saw the special Radical Clay: Contemporary Women Artists from Japan exhibit. We made good use of Tim’s new disability parking tag — a game changer. Once inside I quickly realized I forgot to leave my handbag in the car and was relieved when Kat offered to carry it for me.

Matsuda Yuriko
enameled and glazed porcelain
In Her Shoes, 2007
“This comically large foot, complete with long, painted toenails and a banana shaped heel, alludes to the fetishization of dainty feet.”

It was interesting seeing what interested the girls — they lingered and had lengthy discussions at a lot of the sculptures but zipped past all the paintings. It was nice listening to Tim asking them the kinds of teaching questions he’s so good at with kids. When he got tired there was a couch in the lobby where he rested.

I was distracted by the history of the museum itself, founded through the bequest of William Hayes Ackland, a Tennessee native. On the museum’s website, the Biography of William Hayes Ackland notes:
“The Ackland is in the process of reckoning with its history and rethinking how we tell the story of William Hayes Ackland. Stay tuned for changes to these pages.”

Ackland’s body lies in a stone coffin in a little room off of the museum’s lobby. The exhibit label traces where his inherited money came from. He not only wanted the people of his native south to know and love the fine arts, but it seems to me he also wanted to make sure they remembered him!

“[His] will stipulated that the museum be named the William Hayes Ackland Memorial Art Center and that Ackland himself be interred in the building in a marble sarcophagus with a recumbent effigy.”

I can’t help wondering if the enlightening exhibit label will be changed if the current administration finds it out of alignment with its agenda. It will be nice when autumn comes and this cursed heat and humidity disappear. Getting back outside and enjoying the natural world; escaping from the reminders of tyranny that seem to be around every corner.

les marguerites

If it had no pencil,
Would it try mine —
Worn — now — and dull — sweet,
Writing much to thee.
If it had no word —
Would it make the Daisy,
Most as big as I was —
When it plucked me?
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #184)

a special brassy golden color

No doubt about it, it is summer now. The field daisies have been in bloom since mid-June, and now come the black-eyed Susans, whose color smacks you in the eye. I find in Gray’s Manual of Botany that color is given simply as orange-yellow. To me it is a special brassy golden color, full of sunlight, a color that no artist I can remember except Van Gogh ever used.
~ Hal Borland
(Hal Borland’s Book of Days)

a fledgling cardinal

It’s been so sweet listening to our cardinals sing this summer, and now they have some youngsters exploring the world around them.

This one seemed particularly interested in our birdbath so I was able to get some fuzzy pictures through the sliding glass doors. He kept picking up and putting down catkins, splinters, and twigs, as if he was learning what might or might not be edible. He never did go into the water, though.

So, art thou feathered, art thou flown,
Thou naked thing? — and canst alone
Upon the unsolid summer air
Sustain thyself, and prosper there?
Shall no more with anxious note
Advise thee through the happy day,
Thrusting the worm into thy throat,
Bearing thine excrement away?
Alas, I think I see thee yet,
Perched on the windy parapet,
Defer thy flight a moment still
To clean thy wing with careful bill.
And thou are feathered, thou art flown;
And hast a project of thine own.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
(The Fledgling)

wordless wednesday

10 inches of rain!

Monday morning Tim was impressed to find 10 inches of rain in his gauge, from Tropical Storm Chantal. It was only a tropical depression when it got here Sunday afternoon, and there were no areal or flash flood warnings until after the storm was underway. Only then did the warnings start coming in. I lost count of how many times the warning alarms on my cell phone went off. Because we’re at a higher elevation and not in a flood zone we had no idea about what was unfolding in other parts of Carrboro and Orange County. But we knew it was raining hard here for a very long time.

Around noon we decided to drive up to Hillsborough to see what the Eno River looked like. The Riverwalk was closed because the river had flooded at least 19 feet above flood level and had damaged the wooden walkway. In these pictures it had receded some, but parts of the walkway were still under water. We met a public works employee who said they couldn’t open until the water receded, the damage was assessed, and repairs were made. She expects it to be closed for several weeks.

looks like a toy truck deposited upside down on the railing

Then we drove down to Chapel Hill to check out Bolin Creek. Not sure how high the creek had gotten but after we left and drove alongside it I saw a picnic table slammed into the bank of the creek. And a plastic chair caught on a tree a little farther along.

debris caught in the footbridge railings

the water had definitely covered the footbridge

Several people we talked to were comparing this storm damage to what Hurricane Fran left behind in September 1996, but we weren’t here for that, so I couldn’t say. We didn’t go into the part of Chapel Hill that flooded and apparently made the national news, but I do wonder about our grocery store down there. We’ll see on Thursday, senior discount day, and therefore our food shopping day. 😉

I was impressed by the amount of debris caught on the footbridge

Today we’re under a heat advisory with heat index values ranging from 105°F to 109°F expected. We never lost power during the storm and I am so grateful to have air conditioning! We’re fine. But my heart goes out to those outside trying to clean up and repair damage after this storm.

bluebird bath at high noon

7.1.25 ~ eastern bluebird couple in for a bath

male bluebird drying off on the deck railing

young chipping sparrow under the birdbath, waiting for a turn

same young chipping sparrow waiting patiently from the railing
(he/she never did get a turn)

male contemplating a third dip in the bath

a second cousin, twice removed

Saturday afternoon I opened box #9 of the 14 family history boxes I’m going through. In it I found this magazine page, torn from the August 1915 issue of Harper’s Bazaar. The portrait sketch of Miss Helen Hamilton was done by Harrison Fisher, an American artist born in 1875 in Brooklyn, New York, known for his illustrations of women.

Turns out Helen Hamilton was a second cousin of Tim’s grandmother, Allegra Hamilton. They were great-granddaughters of Benjamin Hamilton (1792-1880). Helen was about 19 years old in this sketch. She went on to marry Frederick Vincent and Allegra married Tim’s grandfather, Karl Rodgers. I wonder how well they knew each other, as Helen lived in California and Allegra lived in New York. I don’t know most of my second cousins.

This box is densely packed with newspaper clippings, correspondence, and research notes from Tim’s great-grandmother, Gertrude Hubbard. It’s going to take me a long time to get it organized! That’s okay, though, I’ve got a long hot summer ahead of me.

Meanwhile, I’ve been enjoying the cardinals singing in the wax myrtle tree outside my kitchen window every morning.