A Peek at My Pottery Collection

Pictured is another quirky corner of my home ... the pottery collection is in a corner of the kitchen over a pie safe I built from a kit.  The collection is a mix of pieces from potter Dean White, "Blueberry" pieces from Salmon Falls Stoneware, a few pieces of Polish pottery, Syracuse China, and what have you.

The two plates peeking into the frame on the right are in the "Mandarin Blue" pattern by Wedgewood China.  The pattern dates from the 1870s.

If you look closely you can see two brass cow bells -- one smooth and the other embossed "1878 Saignelegier ... Chantel Fondeur."  The bell may be an original issue or a modern reproduction.  This one may be original because it is quite heavy, deeply embossed, and milled on the rim.

Breaking Waves

Photo Credit:  © James Hearn | Dreamstime Stock Photos

Close to Mama

Perspective

Hardships ... C.S. Lewis

Each Morning ...

June 29, 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Growth is Painful ...

2 Peter: 1-4

Lemon Dish

by Miriam E. Waters

I recently discovered that there is a piece of dinnerware devoted to the serving of lemon slices – a “Lemon Dish.”  I tried to research this odd little dish, but had no success in learning the origins or practices associated with the dish.

I searched an online auction site for antique or vintage pieces and discovered a wide variety of an item that I didn’t know existed.  I discovered a bevy of dishes made from china and glass.

The dishes were usually round with a hook that curled towards the center of the dish.  Some were gilded and many were hand decorated with delicate flowers.

It’s a quaint idea … reserving a special dish for such an unusual purpose.

I was thrilled a few days ago to find a heavy cut glass “Lemon Dish” for sale at a retirement village.  I arrived late in the day and found the little beauty overlooked and mixed in with a collection of other leftovers.  I asked the elderly woman selling the piece if she knew whether it was indeed a “Lemon Dish” and she admitted that she didn’t know.  I knew.  What else could it be?

I took my treasure home and hand-washed it.  Once cleaned, the little dish beamed with light refracting off its many cut surfaces.  I haven’t discovered a place for it yet, but I may have to begin collecting other “Lemon Dishes” to keep my beautiful oddity company.

November 11, 2014

Featured Blog -- "Underweb Chronicles"

Welcome to a romp through the "Underweb."  This on-going project is produced using a round-robin approach to writing.   The  team of writers delivers a diverse set of characters, settings, and action. Come meet Queen Korre and learn of her goal to rule the Underweb,  and beyond.

In this experimental piece, a woman becomes so intrigued by the inner workings of the Internet that a part of her "soul" or "consciousness" is absorbed into her computer.  Once ensconced in this world, she quickly learns the ropes and rises to power as its Queen.

The story opens with Korre at the top of her reign. It will meander through the past,  present and future as “the plot thickens.” You will meet some additional characters.  Some of whom are  in her camp and some trying to overthrow her in a spectacular virtual coup d'etat. Who will emerge victorious?

Underweb Chronicles -- Chapter 1: Prologue

I was human for a great many years and there is one thing I know for sure.  It is  hard. It was too hard for me most of the time, and I am very, very resilient,  so it must be doubly, even triply hard for the likes of you. Read more ...

If You Don't ...

Moving Mountains

Hooker Minions

Proverbs 3:5-6

The Royal Treatment

by Miriam E. Waters

“… and clean up after Mrs. Johnson’s dog!” Miss Konigin shrilly concluded.

“My morning wouldn’t be complete without it,” the doorman muttered to himself once she was out of earshot.  Stewart adjusted the lapels on the front of his uniform as he stood guard before the exclusive apartment house.  “It must be great to be Queen!” he grumbled to the brisk morning air.

Her daily tirades were the bane of his existence.  He wasn’t her lone victim. He shared that honor with the rest of the staff at the Golden Apartments. There were the five of them maintaining the stellar reputation of the complex.  He safeguarded the entry.  The housekeeper kept the apartments spotless.  The super maintained the facilities. The handyman dealt with odd jobs and the concierge ensured that the tenants’ capricious demands were satisfied.  They had all worked together as a team for at least two decades, Stewart calculated. Miss Konigin, however, was not part of this cohesive team.  In her mind, she stood at a distance from and above the others. It was her duty as Manager of the apartments to see that no tenant was left unattended in any way.

Stewart accepted the daily newspaper from the newsboy as he did every morning. “Time to check the ticket.” he murmured to no one.  The team had been playing the same numbers in the daily lottery for what felt like forever to him.  “Today’s the day! It’s got to be!” he thought in desperation.  Stewart paged through the paper to the lottery’s results.   He gasped as he read and then reread the winning numbers. When he regained control of himself, he left his post in a rush.  He had to find the others.

He tracked them down one by one and shared the news.  They’d done it! Their ticket was possibly the sole winning ticket for the mega-million dollar prize. Clustered together in a tight little knot around the concierge’s station, they buzzed with excitement.

Miss Konigin strode up to the group and demanded “Why aren’t you working? If you value your jobs you’ll get back to your stations immediately!”

As a group, they turned to face their tormentor one last time.  The staff members reached for their keys.  As they filed past her astonished face, they placed the keys upon the concierge's station.  Stewart and the others couldn't suppress their smiles as they wondered how Miss Konigin would run the facility without her crown jewels.

December 11, 2014

Poetry -- Casual Proclamation

April 11, 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Collections -- Button Jar

by Miriam E. Waters

Did your mother or grandmother keep a “button jar?”  It’s a place to store all those loose buttons that appear in the laundry, on the floor, or inherited from mother or grandmother … I suspect that the practice was in response to Depression-era frugality.  I find it interesting.

I have two “button jars.”  The first is actually a decorative box and a companion ceramic jar.  It holds all of those “extra” buttons that come with new clothes or all those buttons that have somehow liberated themselves from their clothing and wait in limbo to be reunited.  This is the more civilized of the two “jars” – I know where the buttons belong, but haven’t had a need to repair the offending article of clothing to repatriate the errant button.  

The second “jar” was until this morning an actual jar – a gallon blue plastic jar half-way full of buttons and other bits of stuff.  I don’t remember where the jar came from or its’ contents originated.  I contributed to the blue jar and filled it with the odds and ends of buttons collected by others.  I may have inherited some … others I picked up at garage sales and wherever … I have no memory of this, but there is the jar, so it must be true.

I like buttons … they come in a range of colors and shapes so they are useful when I want to add eyes or decorations to one of my projects.  I collect “blue jar” buttons because I never know when one might be needed.

The “blue jar” came out of storage this weekend after I picked up a small bag of buttons at a garage sale.  I sorted through the bag trying to find sets of matching buttons for future projects.   This sort of activity appeals to me in the same way that sorting coins, jigsaw puzzle pieces, and trading cards appeals to me.  I tied the sets of matching buttons together and set the “one-of-a-kind” buttons aside to be added to the “blue jar.”

I was in the mood to continue sorting and so after 30+ years decided it was time to take a look at what the “blue jar” held.  It was an interesting exercise. The majority of the buttons were white, but I also found many colored and metallic buttons in the stew.  I found bingo chips, snaps, buttons with angels on them, wooden buttons, wooden beads, and two ceramic beads – one with the letter “P” and one with the letter “I” … did they come from something useful or were they just leftovers?  “Pi” or something more pedestrian?  By far the most unusual and disturbing discovery was a tooth.  Creepy.

The “blue jar” buttons have a new home in a storage unit comprised of little bins (once meant for screws and hardware).  The bins are over-flowing and ready to be mined for future treasures to finish off one of my projects.  Perhaps I’ll tackle my “extra” button box and jar sometime before another 30 years passes.

June 16, 2014.  All Rights Reserved.

Collections -- Pave' Rhinestone Pin/Brooch

Beauty takes many forms ... this vintage Coro pin/brooch is a recent addition to my collection, a treasured gift from a friend. The stunning piece is studded with pave' rhinestones and features the Twin Spikes of Wheat Sheaves theme.  The age of the piece is currently TBD.

Pave' "Definition: a word of French origin derived from paver or "to pave"; used to describe a stone setting technique where gemstones or rhinestones are set as closely together as possible on a metal base; technique first used in the early 1900s in fine jewelry and copied prolifically in costume jewelry thereafter

Pave' Pronunciation: pah-vay"

Source (Retrieved June 23, 2015): About.com http://antiques.about.com/od/historyandinformation/g/Pave080310.htm

Isaiah 55:6-7

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Stitch Markers

2 Corinthians 9:6

Exhibit Kindness

Photo Credit:  rawforbeuty.com

God's Gifts

Featured Blog -- "Last Darn Rites"

Click on me and we'll  pay a visit to Last Darn Rites ...

This blog explores all the nuances and points of view on DEATH from going to gone.  It covers gallows humor, satire, memoirs, tributes, stories about famous dead people, morbid writers, bucket lists, photos, inspirational quotes, and fiction (including an original vampire series).  The blog boldly explores every possible aspect of this inevitable journey we're all on ...

.

Bittersweet

Don't Change ...

Source:  Facebook (Author Unknown)

Salt & Pepper Shakers of the Day -- Pepe & Penelope "In Love"

Make yourself familiar ...

Buffalo Stampede

by Miriam E. Waters

Photo Credit:  shamaicsoul.wordpress.com

I am the type of person that will bend over to pick up a stray coin, regardless of its denomination or location.  I’ll just as eagerly pick up a penny or a dime that some luckless person has dropped.  One penny is good luck, a dime is ten times good luck, and so the pattern goes.

If a coin has some unique feature or is difficult to come across it holds more luck. For example, a U.S. bicentennial quarter is so lucky to find that my heart races at the promise of good fortune!

Mercury dimes, wheat pennies, and new pennies each emanate their own type of luck.  Mercury dimes will speed good fortune to your life on Mercury’s wings.  Wheat pennies ensure that traditions will not be lost.  And new pennies guarantee a fresh, brilliant new beginning.

The day that I found the buffalo nickel I was elated.  I’ve always held a fascination for these coins because on the obverse is the regal profile of an American Indian and the reverse depicts the buffalo that was so important to their culture and lifestyle.  A newer version of the Jeffersonian nickel also holds both Jefferson and a buffalo in profile on its’ opposing sides.  When I found an America the Beautiful state quarter for “Kansas” I found yet another buffalo, this one grazing in a field with flowers.  Oh lucky day!

Click HERE for America the Beautiful Quarter -- Kansas

I now had a traditional buffalo nickel, a Jeffersonian nickel, and an America the Beautiful buffalo quarter.  The number three is considered to be lucky.  Armed with these coins my luck was guaranteed!   So, I did what any logical person would do, I headed to the casino with the coins tucked safely in my left pocket.

I played the slot machines confident that I couldn’t lose.  The trinity of buffalo coins ensured success.  Unfortunately, the buffalos were asleep that afternoon and I did lose.  Undaunted, I tossed the three coins into a fountain on my way out the door and wished for better luck the next time.

October 3, 2014.  All Rights Reserved.

Happy Friday!

Numbers 6:24-26

Collage -- I saw an Angel ...

"I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free."

-- Michelangelo

Readers:  Clicking on the image will take you directly to a page filled with quotes by Michelangelo.  Clicking on "Michelangelo" will take you to Wikipedia's profile of Michelangelo.

June 18, 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Metamorphosis

Source:  Facebook (Unknown Author)

Salt & Pepper Shakers of the Day -- D. Mumm's "Santa's Spirit"

Flying Horses

by Miriam E. Waters

“Riddle me this,” the master of ceremonies shouted to those gathered in front of the carousel.  “What runs on the wind, but offers no echo … has no wings, but flies round the round?”

“Flying horses,” the crowd responded with a rousing cheer and laughter.

Click HERE for Wikipedia's "Carousel" Entry

“’Tis true, ‘tis true!” he agreed.  “Now it’s time for the riders to mount their steeds and hope upon hope to finish the deed.  The first to snare the burning ring shall earn his chance of love to sing.”

“Huzzah!” the crowd roared in approval.

Liam, and each of the other single men that milled about, hoped to be lucky.  They needed to capture the iron ring suspended on an arm of the carousel as they sped past it on their wooden mount.  The ring, blazing hot, would brand the hand that grasped it with the image of a cavorting horse.  The branding would mark the man as eligible to marry. 

“Mount up, mount up!  The race is on!” cried the barker.

The men moved quickly to claim one of the intricately carved horses.  Suspended on chains, the horses appeared to dance on the fringe of the carousel.  Gilded and gaily painted, each horse was a work of beauty.  Liam had garnered the striking black stallion, the crowd’s favorite, as his own.

A team of horses was tethered to arms radiating from the carousel.  They provided the power that allowed the riders to soar.  The handlers of these horses urged their charges first to a walk, then to a canter.  The carousel began to rotate. 

The carved horses and riders swayed in the wind.  As the handlers coaxed their charges into a full gallop, the speed of the carousel increased.  The riders lifted higher and shifted outward toward the crowd, pulled by centrifugal force.  Flying horses, indeed.

“Round and round they go, who claims the ring, nobody knows!” intoned the emcee.

The carousel turned faster and faster.  The crowd was delighted. Eager hands reached for the burning iron ring.  Liam leaned out from his precarious perch on his stallion and found purchase on the ring.  A delicious, searing pain engulfed his hand.  The ring and brand were his!  “Huzzah!  Huzzah!” the crowd cheered with approval.

"Round and round the young men went with the black stllion heaven bent.  Huzzah, youn Liam, may your future be bright and filled to overflowing with love's glorious ligt!" the master of ceremonies joyfully concluded.

March 15, 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Hebrews 11:1

Goliath's Stone

1894 Backdoor Visitor

by Miriam E. Waters

The knock on the screen door came as a surprise.  Mama Tidwell wasn’t expecting any visitors and she was busy shaking pans to feed the family.  Her grandchildren were hearty eaters and demanded good food after a hard day’s work.  Still, a brief rest for her weary feet and a hot mug of chic’ry would be a welcomed distraction.  She shuffled over to the door to discover her guest’s identity.

Mama was startled to see a tall white man standing on her stoop.  She didn’t get many white visitors.  Once in a while an itinerant preacher would stop by to try to share the Good Word, but she was already saved, thank you.  Mayhap this man was a preacher, but she didn’t think so.  He didn’t have that wild look in his eyes like the others.

“Evenin’,” the man said when he saw her approaching the door.

“Evenin’,” Mama responded.  Experience had taught her to be cautious.

“I’s an agent for Sheriff Pickett.  I’d like to talk to you ‘bout the ‘lection what’s comin’ up.”

Mama indicated the empty rocker near the kitchen table and invited the man to sit with a nod of her head.  What was she to do?  Here was a strange white man wantin’ to talk to her.  Not much choice in the matter.

“The Sheriff feels that he can do a lot more good when he’s re’lected.  Now, he’s countin’ on your man to do his part to make sure that happens. There’s a nice silver dollar waitin’ for him when he casts his vote for the Sheriff,” the man promised.

That man’s smile so oily it ‘mos slipped off’n his face, Mama thought.

“We ‘ppreciate the offer, but he be backin’ Jimson Davis come the ‘lection,”

Mama said in her calm and quiet manner.

“Surely you don’ think that boy’s a better choice than Sheriff Pickett?” the white man sputtered.

Mama Tidwell shifted her large body in the old kitchen chair so that she faced her visitor.  She studied him intently.  “No means no ‘roun these parts,” were the only words she granted him.  Her visitor rose and strode angrily out the screen door, letting it slap back into place with a crack like gunshot.

“Umm, umm, umm,” Mama murmured.  After rising, she turned her back and with a shake of her grey head resumed her position in front of the cookstove.

*******

"The 50 Greatest American Civil War Names"

SOURCE:  http://www.theweeklings.com/bclaycomb/2013/07/04/the-50-greatest-american-civil-war-names/  

Retrieved: January 28, 2015

“47.  George Pickett – It’s a good enough name for a Southern general, but we remember it mainly for that disastrous charge at Gettysburg that bears his name.

1.     Shellanna Marvilla Holt Tidwell – They named her shell-anna because shells from the siege of Atlanta nearly ended her life before it began.  Already named Shellanna Marvilla Holt, she had the good sense to marry a man named Tidwell, giving us the best name of the era.  Thank you, Ms. Holt Tidwell.  We’re in your debt.”

The U.S. Morgan Dollar

SOURCE:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgan_dollar   

Retrieved:  January 28, 2015

Morgan Dollar -- Minted 1878-1904, 1921

Obverse

Reverse

"Voting Rights Act"

SOURCE: https://www.aclu.org/voting-rights-act-major-dates-history

Retrieved:  January 28, 2015

The Voting Rights Act is a historic civil rights law that is meant to ensure that the right to vote is not denied on account of race or color.

1866

Civil Rights Act of 1866 grants citizenship, but not the right to vote, to all native-born Americans.

1869

Congress passes the Fifteenth Amendment giving African American men the right to vote.

1896

Louisiana passes "grandfather clauses" to keep former slaves and their descendants from voting. As a result, registered black voters drops from 44.8% in 1896 to 4.0% four years later. Mississippi, South Carolina, Alabama and Virginia follow Louisiana's lead by enacting their own grandfather clauses.

February 25, 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Salt & Pepper Shakers of the Day -- D. Mumm's "Spring Bouquet"

Seduction

All Rights Reserved 2014

Forward!

by Miriam E. Waters

The U.S. Army corporal prepared to mount his horse.  He performed a quick check of the animal before taking the saddle.  The blanket, worn thin from months of riding, sat squarely on the mare’s back.  The saddle was in place and cinched so that it was snug on the horse.

He noted with dismay the jutting ribs of the mare.  Half rations for both man and beast had reduced them to mere bags of bones.  It was a wonder that she was able to continue to carry him.  He was thankful, however, that he was not compelled to walk as were the Cherokees on this forced relocation to Indian Territory.

As an Army conductor, it was his duty to shepherd those marching along the trail that led to their new home.   He was familiar with the privation all suffered. Lack of adequate food, clothing, and shelter took a heavy toll on the tribes he ferried.

They were approaching an especially difficult part of the trail.  The Cherokees called it Nu na da ul tsun yi, “the Place Where they Cried.”  It was here that many white settlers witnessed the silent, stoical faces of the people as they passed through their ancestral lands along the “Trail of Tears.” The tears were found not on those being forcibly relocated, but on the cheeks of some witnesses to the death march.

The conductor swung up into his saddle.  He took his position at the rear of the column of unfortunates and began to prod them onward.

One very old woman was near to the end of the group.  The conductor could see that she was struggling to keep up with the others.  A younger woman had wound a leather thong around her waist and tied it to the older woman.  The women were bound together, step matching step as they crossed the rough terrain.

The conductor watched as the younger woman sought to encourage her elder first with soft words and then a more strident tone.  The old woman continued to slow and finally collapsed into the mud.

The corporal rode alongside the women.  “Agayáli unitsi igáyiditlá anigisdi,” “Old mother, forward,” the conductor begged in his rudimentary Cherokee.  He received no response from the old woman.

Putting steel into his voice that he did not feel, the conductor commanded the younger woman “igáyiditlá anigisdi,” “forward.” She stared into his eyes as she untied the thong from around her waist and let it drop into the mud.  Turning his horse’s head he motioned her on as they left the old woman to die where she fell.

Click HERE to View Wikipedia's Entry on the "Trail of Tears"

January 25, 2015.  All Rights Reserved.