Lang Syne

Remember those old National Geographic magazines I bought a few months ago? I meant to show off a bit of what was inside them, but don't think I ever did. So here's a quick look at what the cutting edge was like, 90 years ago.

National Geographic was just starting to get some colored pictures. I think they're supposed to be color photographs, but they look more like someone painted over a black and white photo.

There was an article in one of them on Holland, which I was excited about because my mother's Dutch.  Only think - everyone's wearing the traditional costume in these pictures, and the wooden shoes!

And there were at least 3 pictures with someone knitting. Apparently it's in the genes.

The articles had a few prime notions too. It's a little odd to think of a large, scientific-type magazine like this one apparently thinking it completely the norm to use concepts like Manifest Destiny (which was sort of a White supremacy, we-were-born-to-rule idea; think British India or the Boer War), referring to 'the ladies' or 'the weaker sex', describing a South American as 'a Peon type', or having one of the authors casually mentioning how he let his pre-teen son loose in the jungle to shoot at birds for amusement.

And just to show how much else has changed...imagine buying a house for this price.

You'd maybe have a car in the drive that looked like this:

And you would still have to dip your steel-nib pen in the inkwell to write your letters and do your accounting.

Washing It Old School

It seems I've got a few more days at the parents' than originally planned. The car is gone to Montreal with my sibs over New Year's - Joe went in to visit friends, and Andrea and her BF Eric will be leaving for the Yukon in 2 weeks, and have to pack and plan what comes, goes in storage, gets sold...they will bring the first load back in a couple days, with the car.

Now I have no objection to staying here, generally. Only it's hard water. Lovely for drinking, but even with a vinegar rinse, it tends to leave a buildup and make my hair feel sticky after washing. So if I'm home longer than a week or so, I do wash it old-school, heating soft water on the stove.

In the summer I can use rain water, or distilled from the dehumidifier. It's winter now, though, so I have to melt snow. Last night you might have seen me making multiple trips outside to get snow to add to the spaghetti pot on the woodstove. Snow melts down to a lot less water than you think. And I had to skim out some leaves and things that snuck in, since there's only a few inches of snow on the ground. But I finally had a pot of warm water, and with the aid of a tub to catch the rinse water, and a measuring cup as a scoop, I did my shampoo and condition over the bathtub.

My hair feels a lot better today. But every time I do this, it certainly underscores why you used to traditionally take a bath only once a week, and even re-use the bathwater for the next person, the way my mother remembers doing it. Think of hauling in and melting 5 or 10 bushels of snow to get enough water for one small bathtub!

In Praise of Handkerchiefs

I felt well enough to go to work Tuesday, so I did, well stocked with handkerchiefs. And as I was fishing one out between calls, my neighbor remarked that they were something you don't see often anymore.

That's true. I only got into them a few years ago, but I'm hooked. It was my brother who started it actually. He started bringing them when he needed them while haying for a neighbor one summer. Easier to carry on the field than a box of kleenex, and doesn't shred getting stuffed in pockets. But he said he noticed that his nose hurt less also, after a day of blowing it. Mom and I took up handkerchiefs shortly afterwards, and haven't left off.

I know some people will think it's kind of gross, and why not use kleenex you can use and toss? As far as I'm concerned, just about every aspect of the handkerchief function outweighs kleenex.

Less mess: Handkerchiefs don't have a risk of giving way when damp and leaking all over your hand.

Less waste: I remember a cold used to mean the bedroom garbage filled with soggy kleenex. And worrying about whether the box would last the day, and the possibility of having to hunt up toilet paper as a substitute. Or hunting frantically in your bag only to find the only kleenex left are half shredded and useless. Now a cold means a few more squares of cotton or linen in the wash. I have 4 or 5 and they will last me for years, and can be stuffed in my bag with impunity. And they won't be ending up in a landfill anytime soon.

Less pain: What my brother noticed, that the handkerchiefs are easier on the nose than kleenex, seems to be true for me as well. Used to be the routine during a cold, to paint my sore red nose with Ihle's paste at night, which was sticky but helps a lot. I haven't needed to do that lately.

And I can make and even decorate my own handkerchiefs if I want. Think of all the old patterns for lace trim and embroidery, and stories where monogrammed handkerchiefs play a part. No one would ever wax romantic over a dainty kleenex!


 

Blackberry Picking as a Martial Art

I do tend to like old-fashioned activities, and on occasion, you get people asking why. Why do you spin/knit/make jam etc. when you don’t have to? What good is it? Some of us had a discussion on the transferable skills from knitting, such as dexterity, memory, math, creativity, and problem-solving, following a comment I heard that putting knitting down as a hobby on your resume was pointless.

It’s summer, and the blackberries are ripe. I spent a few hours picking them this weekend at the parents’. It’s a very meditative process, and one I’ve been doing for years – it was our job as kids, and I suspect one that was very good for us. Because thinking about it as I picked, I am declaring that maybe blackberry picking is worth more than it seems like also, in terms of skills and processes – and you get berries as a bonus! For example:

Dexterity, memory, spatial orientation: Blackberries have thorns. Lots of them. And the bushes frequently have layers, with some hidden underneath, or that you can only see from a particular angle. You need dexterity to get them out without ripping yourself to shreds, (and flexibility to duck and dodge the canes in the process), a good memory to keep track of where that cluster was you saw while you’re finishing the current section, and good spatial orientation and hand-eye coordination to get some of the berries underneath when your hand and eye are starting from different places and the action of aiming for them moves leaves and blocks your view of your target.

Planning, control of impulses and multitasking: Berry bushes have three things in quantity. Berries, thorns – and mosquitoes. We think they set the bushes as traps for humans. Be that as it may, you learn very quickly that it is necessary to pick in long sleeves and pants. Hands and face are still exposed, but your hands are usually occupied in holding canes back and picking berries. This means that automatically smacking a mosquito landing on your hands or face, or trying to flap away the ones buzzing in your ears, will usually lose you berries and/or get you caught in the thorns. You must, instead, carefully transfer your current berries to the bucket or detangle from the canes to free a hand, and then gently, deliberately, squash the mosquito(es) biting you. This will occur many times over the daily picking time, and you just have to allow for it, and pick as fast as you can while being thorough, to minimize the time you spend being bit and scratched. 

Patience: This is not a fast process. We have several berry patches you need to make the rounds of daily. These are wild blackberries, so the productivity and location of the patches can change from year to year. Picking takes about an hour per litre of berries, maybe a bit less. Last summer at peak it was 4 litres in 3 hours (raspberries and blackberries), and picking season lasted over two weeks. Some years there are less berries – but you still have to check all the bushes daily until they’re slowing down noticeably. Then you can pick less often – but by then it’s blueberry season too. And the work doesn’t end with picking. Berries have to be picked over every day to remove bits of leaves, bugs, etc that have snuck in, then either frozen or made into jam if they’re not to be eaten fresh.

Given all that, I say forget about all these toys and games designed to teach your kid whatever. Get thee a blackberry patch, a set of knitting needles, and all the rest of that old-fashioned stuff. It’s probably cheaper, and you get jam and socks as a bonus!

Weekend@home

Out to the parents’ for the weekend – an 1843 farmhouse on a hill, with a woodstove doing most of the heating. Hung the laundry out on the line Saturday, as the sun was shining bright and the wind was blowing the woodsmoke away from the clothesline. My aunt sent 4 braided rugs for me to mend – her daughter is being married this summer, and the reception will be at their home. She wants it to look nice, but my aunt has neither the time, inclination or skill for most needlework. I had her crochet curtains to mend a while ago also.

The signs of spring continue to increase. Mom found the first flowers of the year, can you imagine? Snowdrops, hiding under a pile of leaf mulch. The geese were honking overhead while I hung the laundry out, and the chickens were all happily strolling about the lawn and clucking, cleaning up the seeds under the bird feeders. And the barbecue was shoveled out and used for the first time this year. (It's basically a large stone fireplace shaped a bit like an easy chair. Wood-burning, not charcoal, and the results are seriously tasty.)

Of course the weather went nasty again Monday, all rain and snow, but you don't mind so much now. It'll all be gone again soon.