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House Of Love

dscf8088This is the enchanting home we stayed in while John and I were visiting his daughter and her family in Jersey. The house on the other side as well as this one are typical of the 18th century granite farmhouses found in Jersey. Aside from its obvious beauty…there were a few things I didn’t know about homes like this one that I’d like to share with you.

dscf8087Originally know as the Dower House,  the one pictured above would have provided a home for a woman after the death of her husband. The main house that you see on the left in the first photo would have gone to the heir and the dowager would have moved into the dower house. There have been a few exterior changes to their home with the addition of the french doors and a large kitchen window that provides a beautiful view of their garden. One thing that remains the same is the inscription on the stone above the doorway. Marriage stones are usually found on the southern side of the house and have the husband and wife’s initials along with a heart and the wedding date inscribed into them.

 

Marriage Stone

Marriage Stone 1839

Sometimes though, the date is not a wedding date, but rather some other significant date for the couple. Or a stone might have been added when alterations were made to the building.

A Second Marriage Stone

A Second Marriage Stone 1958

The house on the other side is a bit older with a date of 1753 on the marriage stone above the doorway. I don’t have a picture of it, but to help put it into perspective I thought you might  look here to see some of the historic events that occured in 1753.

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Telling Time With Dandelion Clocks

 

Dandelion Clocks - Nature's Timepiece

Dandelion Clocks - Nature's Timepiece

We’ve been away for a few days resetting our internal compass to multidirectional fun and giving our imaginations a good spring shake out.  The little Jersey girl above has been our tour guide and timekeeper for the last few days and I was sad in a way to say goodbye and head for home. John and I had a great time with his younger daughter and her husband, but his little granddaughter…she was the best part of the trip for me.

There is nothing like the energy and enthusiasm of a child to make the mundane magic and help you see the world through fresh eyes. I’ll be back with some Jersey stories after I shake the sand off my shoes and sift through the 1151 or so photographs I snapped since last Thursday.

Spring Trailblazing

Spring Trailblazing

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I Can’t Believe She’s 35!

 

Jennie & Elizabeth 1974

Baby Jennie With Elizabeth 1974

Almost 14 years separate us in age. Born on Easter Sunday, my youngest sister was a surprise in many ways. My dad, having remarried when I was 12, never expected to have more children than the two he’d had in his first marriage to my mother. I know my stepmom was as surprised as anyone when she found herself sitting in her doctor’s waiting room with women much younger and their developing belly bumps. In 1974, women who were 40 or older were more likely to be planning for their first grandchild’s arrival than a baby of their own.

So it was that Jennie, not Jennifer like so many girls born in the 70’s, came into my life. You could say she was a gift from the Easter bunny having arrived on the day when children wake to find surprises left by the fluffy symbol of Easter. Her maternal grandfather called her Bunny right from the start, making it a special nickname that only he would use in conversations with and about her.

I moved into their new baby household when Jennie was about six months old, stretching the limits of what my stepmom had probably planned for her life when she married for the first and only time at 38. Looking back, I am amazed at how well she handled all of unexpected  changes in her transition from single working woman to new wife, before all too quickly being called on to mother an infant and teen.  

Jennie, having been born to older parents grew up almost like an only child. While I was around and involved, I was a teenager after all and pretty well focused on my school and social life. Jennie and I played together, but I don’t remember having had too much required of me…as in no forced baby sitting or sulking about it as I can recall. I remember building her a little puppet theatre and covering it with a hideous pink fabric left over remnants of the 60’s… found somewhere I can’t remember. I made puppets and stories to go with it forcing her to endure and participate in my first playwriting experiences. (Sorry… no pictures seem to exist of the theatre to share.)

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Jennie was my model when I tried my hand at 17 with my first forays into posed portrait work. She was such a good sport especially since she was barely four at the time this poor quality image was taken.  

 

Jennie At Four

Jennie At Four

Joining the Army at 18, I was a visitor mostly after that, a sister who sent letters or gifts from other countries with occasional visits home while on leave. During the 5 years that I was away from Georgia, Jennie changed quite a lot during that time growing out of her little girl self of four into a more outspoken performer of nine. By the time she reached high school she was performing in musicals, sometimes winning the leading role. She began college as a performance major, but changed directions along the way, moving towards a degree and profession aimed at helping others.

 

Miranda Wearing Jennie's College Cap On Graduation Day

Miranda Wearing Jennie's College Cap On Graduation Day

After a few difficult years of helping children through Family and Children’s Services, she returned to school for a master’s degree in community counseling and added a certification to it that would enable her to provide counseling and support to children in a school setting. It’s there she seems to have found her home working with children who frequently need a listening ear and directional support. She spends her days in a rural setting where some of the children come from difficult home situations. Jennie’s quick to recognize a need where someone else might overlook it and at times has gone so far as to buy shoes for a child who didn’t have any they could wear. She does good work there making sure all of the children have equal opportunities for success along with a bit of nurturing and acceptance they may not receive at home.

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Jennie with Mitzi - At Home In North Georgia

It’s hard to believe that she’s 35 today … Happy Birthday Jennie!

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So Far Away

 

Not So Far Away

Elizabeth, John, & Nik - Not So Far Away

 ” But you’re so far away
Doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door ”

– Carole King

Making a decision to move away from the familiar is not so easy for most people. To move so far away that it requires an extended plane ride or maybe even several to reconnect with those we care about is becoming more common and a little less painful thanks to the many ways that exist for family and friends to stay connected. Yesterday, John and I paid a little visit to Alaska all the way from England for my nephew Nik’s birthday party. Thanks to the internet, iChat, and my sisters willingness to shift her desktop Mac around, John and I were able to “be present” for the family gathering. 

It was great fun to watch Nik open his presents, blow out his candles and sing a rousing round of Happy Birthday to him with his older brother Sam accompanying us on electric guitar. Sam would have made Jimi Hendrix proud as he opened the party with a raucous version of the Happy Birthday tune.  

The world’s a different place than when I turned eleven in 1971 and Carole King was singing, ” So Far Away “.  Far away isn’t quite so far now and although we couldn’t taste the yummy looking (no trans fats included) cake my sister Margaret made, we could gather together for a photograph with the birthday boy… bringing ourselves virtually into the living room though still not quite a face at the door.

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Eleven

 

11

Today my nephew Nik is eleven.

 There are many things I’d like to say about him, but at eleven, he’d like a bit of censoring.

 Say too much and I’ll embarrass him, say too little and I’m afraid I won’t properly convey how much I like the person

he’s growing into.

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 He’s interesting to talk with and teaches me something whenever we speak.

Like a typical eleven year old, he has a dog he loves.

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She’s a sweet little beagle named Ingrid. 

Unlike a typical boy his age, he likes to makes movies rather than just watch them.

 Sometimes, Ingrid has a leading role.

Nik taught himself how to make movies using a small Nikon and a Mac. 

His movies vary.

Sometimes, they’re black and white with special effects like slow motion.

His sense of humor is easily apparent in the images and story line.

He made a movie for my birthday last year when he was ten.

He read here about an experience I had in England

and made this movie to mirror my story.

Home schooled in Alaska, I think he’s exceptional.

When I visited last December, I was able to see his skill with his electric guitar, a Fender.

It’s a great guitar for a young musician partial to Jimi Hendrix, Deep Purple, my personal favorite Bruce Springsteen, and okay…KISS. (not my favorite)

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He’s a builder and a doer, creative and kind with a scientific mind and an enthusiastic spirit.

Nik - First Place On Trans Fats Science Project

Nik - First Place On Trans Fats Science Project

Last week he won first place with his science fair project on Trans Fats. He’s been trans fat focused since last summer

when he talked his mom (my sister, Margaret) into buying him the book, Eat This, Not That. After the science

competition, he went book shopping again, for volume 3 of Eat This, Not That so my sister figures he’s not done yet.

 

Today he’s eleven.

Happy Birthday

Nik.

 

Nik's Art Project

Nik's Art Project

 

 

 

 

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Washed Away

Wellies - Washed Away

The constant rain over the last few days has made it easy for me to spend what seems like an endless amount of time staring into the screen of my computer.

I’ve been editing the 3000 plus images I’ve snapped on our adventures around the southwest of England over the last eight weeks sorting though the best ones to share in this space. In each one I’m struck by the lush green that provides a backdrop to this blooming paradise.

Rain is an absolute requirement for the never-ending sea of green. The breath stopping beauty depends on the watery bounty that falls sometimes for days. It’s an unending form of nourishment from the blue grey clouds that frequently dot the Cornish skies.

In the rare moments lately when the clouds hold back and we have a bit of weather relief, we pull on our wellies and tromp about the countryside like a pair of nine-year old boys stepping deep into the mud of the moor. Decorating the waterproof legs of my rubber boots with mud spatters like some sort of earthy Jackson Pollock, I love the freedom that comes with knowing that it’s just a bit of mud and that the next deep puddle I wade through will provide me with a clean canvas and a chance to do it all again.

I can’t help but think how wonderful it would be if all the mistakes we’ve made in our lives could be washed away like that. What if all the errors in judgement, thoughtless acts or careless words could be washed from our memories, slipping away with a splash or two of water from the next waiting stream. Just think how healing that might be.

I am inclined to wonder that if by freeing ourselves from the muck of our memories we might lose some of the fertile ground that spiritual and psychological growth needs to continue to flourish.

The lessons of life cling to us instead like dried mud on our boots sometimes flaking off a bit at a time, sometimes requiring a good scrubbing, but in no way easily dismissed.

Perhaps that is as it should be.

Reposted from original GOTJ