Thursday, December 31, 2009

Passalong Plants - The Book

Passalong Plants -the April/May Selection for the Garden Bloggers’ Book Club.
By the time this book came into my life, my world was already filled with plants passed along by other gardeners, so Felder and Steve [we were instantly on a first name basis] didn’t introduce me to the concept, but they gave all of us a great name for what we were doing, validated our experiences and filled an entire book with objects of desire. We were introduced to some quirky yard art as well as some truly odd plants.
The two authors, Steven Bender and Felder Rushing talk about individual plants in a neighborly, anecdotal way, sometimes lurching over the line into Jeff Foxworthy territory, but with genuine horticultural information under the kudzu. I have no resistance to this kind of Southern- style writing, treasuring old paperbacks by Lewis Grizzard and Celestine Sibley, enjoying the YaYa Sisterhood, and loving movies like Steel Magnolias and Fried Green Tomatoes. If you can’t swallow garden writing served with a side of cheese grits, you may need a lot of iced tea to get you through the pages, but the plant stories are wonderful. I love my copy, sometimes rereading the book for fun, and sometimes using it as a reference for specific plants.
Many of the most tempting stories are about plants that won’t grow above zone 7, giving the Northern gardener a case of zone envy. Felder and Steve are currently considering a new book about Passalong Plants for colder zones, so if you live where camelias freeze, read this book first and hope they’ll write a companion volume in the future. Last March, I posted about meeting Felder Rushing, and mentioned that my copy of the book was written-in, and stuffed with notes. The extra pages at the back of the book were blank when I bought the book, but were soon covered in lists of plants and people. I noted daylilies named ‘Timeless’ and ‘Charm Bracelet’ as coming from Bernice, that Sweet Autumn Clematis was given to me by Ruth, whose plant came from Sophie. The Malva moschata was from Dorothy, Iris from Lorraine, Peonies from Patty, Sweet woodruff from Sherry, orange lilies from Laverne and that the Jack in the Pulpit was passed along to me by my mother. Most of the passalong plants in our Illinois garden stayed there when we moved to Texas in 1999.

But among the passalong plants in my present garden are two that traveled long and winding roads to live in Austin, Texas.
Look into the photo above and you’ll see some tall while phlox, cavorting with a white Echinacea and some Perovskia last July. The family legend says that my great-grandmother grew the phlox in Michigan in the early 1900’s. By 1924 she'd given a division to her daughter, my Grandma Anna, who took them to Chicago. Grandma passed them along to my parents in the 1950’s. Decades later, I took some of the white phlox with me to a rental townhouse, then to our first house. Another four years passed, I redivided the burgeoning clump and took some to our second house, then repeated the process and planted them in the square garden at the third house, seen below.

The phlox are blooming in the upper left corner of this decade old snapshot - with the head of an 'Annabelle' hydrangea flopped artistically across the center.
In the mid-nineties our son M. took some of the white phlox for his garden and after we moved to this house in .., M. returned the favor, bringing a division of the heirloom phlox down here - to make this the fifth home where we’ve grown them.
The journey of another plant began on April 13, 1992, when a garden club speaker in Illinois gave me wands of corkscrew willow - extra greenery from an arrangement. I managed to root one of the slender twisted branches and grew it in a whiskey barrel. The wand eventually expanded into an attractive tree, from which I rooted more cuttings, one for my son M. and a couple for my friend Barbara. We left the original tree in the whiskey barrel in Illinois, but after a while I missed it, and wanted one here. Both M. & Barbara gave me wands from their now larger trees, with no luck at first, but this piece from Barbara finally made roots in ... The young willow now grows in a big pot, placed so any drip of condensation from the roof will land in the container. Also in the container are some passalong agapanthus plants from Pam/Digging. I started writing this while waiting for a couple of passalong daylilies to bloom, but as I waited, the draft grew longer and longer, and now the daylilies need a whole post! Since I want to tell the stories of the passalong plants in our garden and the people who shared them with us – let’s call this Passalongs/Part One.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Life's a ditch



There is a ditch in here somewhere.

But it's clogged with trees, sediment, and years of the neighbors' trash, so when it rains heavily our driveway washes out.



The previous tenants told us that the county worked the road for them, but in our moment of need it was pronounced a private road. All my "but the water is coming from your county road" reasoning did not prevail.



This was the other problem. A storm had washed some debris and huge dead trees to rest against some very large culverts. It did not enter our minds that industrious beavers would see this as a gift, and make the situation even worse.

But they did, and the neighbor's property began to flood. (It was putting some of my favorite wildflowers underwater too!)




Ahh.




Ahhhhhh. I feel better now.

When backhoe work starts at $70 an hour, it's easy to believe that time is money.

"He's been here $140 and it seems like he's just started," I fretted.

I was gone running errands for $210.

"My husband will be home in about $175," I realized at one point.

Actually we feel lucky to have had both problems fixed in just under ten hours. It could have been a lot worse.

Angie, Angela


The beach closest to the house is a small and rocky one that
all but disappears at high tide. But I know a spot - behind all the rocks,
in a little hollowed out nook in the side of the cliff - where I can sit on the
wet dark sand, hidden, reading. Well I
call it reading. Only half the time I am lying face down, my cheek pressed into
the open pages of the book.




Once in a while a noise prompts me to look up. Few people come here, most preferring the main beach down the road. But
now I hear the unmistakable sounds of flip-flops.




There are three of them, making their way along rocks
half-submerged in water. The man is athletic and agile, with a deep tan and
spiky brown hair. Close behind is an equally lean and tanned woman, blond ponytail
swinging as she hops from rock to rock. The couple moves with the lightness of teenagers, and only when I catch a glimpse of their faces do
I see they must be in their early 50s. They could be professional athletes. Runners
maybe.




As I contemplate this, they pause, waiting for the person some
distance behind to catch up. It is an elderly female form: soft, hunched-over
body, sagging chest, thinning hair, unsteady mincing gait. The mother or aunt of one of
them, I decide, and go back to my book.




Then I hear the blond woman’s voice and look up again. “Come
on honey,” she says - in the sort of firm but gentle tone used to encourage children. “Come on honey, give mommy your hand.”




I see now that she is a girl of around 14, though it is difficult to tell for sure. She stands awkwardly on the uneven rock, her shoulders hunched forward stiffly, hands at her sides, fingers fanned out, slack mouth
emitting a low pitched moan.




I feel a jolt to my system that I am instantly ashamed of. But it is the unexpectedness, the contrast of it. The couple'seffortless movements and theirbeautiful, youthful bodies, each stretching out a perfectly formed hand toward their child.






“Angie! Angela” says the man now, trying to get her to
look at him rather than down at the water. There is a big gap between the rock
she stands on and the next one, and she is terrified to cross. Her moans grow louder. “Angie! Angela.” The man’s tone is even, patient but not
exaggeratedly so, almost matter of fact.




When she still does not respond, both the man and woman step down into
the water and, in what has the look of a practiced maneuver, pick her up by the upper arms and swiftly move her to the next rock. She is large, and at once so limp and so stiff, it is as if they move a life-sized ragdoll. And then they go on with their trek.




Soon they are gone from my field of vision, but I continue
to think of them. Their light, graceful limbs and her heavy, awkward ones, the sun lighting up her sparse wisps of hair.




In my younger years, I could dwell on such a scene indefinitely,
crying over it without really knowing
why. But now I am better at willing myself to forget, at
removing thoughts and images from my mind, almost surgically. Eventually I go back to my book - reading it, then lying face down on it again.




It is not until three days later that I see her. A girl in
a halter dress, riding her bike along the tiny main street.Her left foot is missing a sandal.And she is coasting, round shoulders relaxed, head tilted back, short sandy hair ruffled by the breeze. She is squinting into the sun and
smiling so broadly, I cannot help but grin back reflexively.



In that moment I
recognise her. I look around for the tanned athletic couple, half
expecting them to be following on bikes or watching from the sidewalk. I don't see them. But the girl is unmistakably her. The face, the body, the hair, the
way her clothing does not sit quite right.It is all there and it is all
perfect, in the utter abandon of her posture and smile.


Monday, December 28, 2009

SC II - first real ice routes of the season

Sunday we went to SC-II. It was seriously cold. Temps were below 0° and the wind was howling like crazy. It was Laura and I, Joel Toretti and PA Matt, CO Matt and his wife Rebecca. We were greeted by the howling winds at the Cliffs parking area. Upon hiking in, we found that the cold temperatures had locked up most of the water. There is still some water running and with the forecast calling for the lower 20's, the water will be flowing again in no time. Climbs are looking good. Laura and I climbed Called on Account of Security which was bonded much better than several days prior. The climb is a little thin at the bottom, but gets better as you go up. FYI There's a V thread backed up by a screw at the P1 Belay for lowering from there. P2 wasn't quite formed up yet. Joel tried to get on The Awakening, but the climb was very brittle and the temps were a little less than favorable for gear placement. They opted to drop a TR on the right central and run laps. Matt and Rebecca opted to head out earlier due to the cold. We ended the day around 3:00. It was a good day and we made some new ice climbing friends. I was glad to get up Called despite the temps and thin, brittle ice. Here's a few photos from the day.

Cranford St Andrews - Burton Latimer - Cranford St Andrews

Led by Barry. With Gordon, Eddie, Terry, Jill, Carol, Ian and me. Beautiful sunny warm day. A lot of fields and three busy roads to cross. Same walk as this one last November, but in reverse. 7.3 miles.



We set off from Top Dysons, crossed the road and went past the Old Forge tea-rooms along Grafton Road to the right.

Soon the footpath took us off the road to the left. We turned to our right whenanother path crossed ours, and followed this to the south eastern corner of the field, then south and east and south again before coming out on Church Lane and Cranford High Street. We walked along this for a while, then followed the path right to the edge of the field and steps down to the A14. Patience needed to cross this. Luckily there is a division in the middle of the very busy road.





Banana break! A shady, though not scenic spot.













More later.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Time for Play

Here is a photo of Traveler playing in the little bit of snow we got last week.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

James and Tobitha Scott Robison

About a month ago I was contacted by a descendant of James and Tobitha Scott Robison. We *think* that James *could be* a son of Henry and Ann Robison.

That inquiry set me off to "assemble" the information I had on the Robison/Robinson Families of Whitley County, Indiana and to see if I could fill in some of the blank spots. Through evaluation of the census records it was determined that Henry and Ann Robison *may* have had eight children.

In the household of Henry and Ann in 1830 there is one male 10-14 years old (year of birth would be between 1816 and 1820). In 1840 there is one male aged 20-29 years (born 1811-1820). James Robison "fits" into this time frame. Unless there is a bible record out there "somewhere" that provides the names of the children of Henry and Ann Robison, I don't know that we'll ever be able to "prove" that James is their son.

Whitley County marriage records show that James Robinson and Tobitha Jane Scott were married on January 1, 1846. (pdf documents online: Marriage Affidavit and the Marriage Return)

The only James Robison listed in the 1850 census for Whitley county was 32 years old and enumerated in the household of Thomas Cleveland. His place of birth was left blank. At 32 years of age, his year of birth would be about 1818 give or take a year (or two). So where is his wife Tobitha?

In the 1860 census for Cleveland Township, Whitley County (page 212/895) we find James and Tobitha Robinson with three children: 11 year old Samuel, two year old "E" and a 10 year old female. At first glance the name of the 10 year old looks like Martha, but upon closer examination I think it is Marietta. James is a 43 year old laborer, he owns real estate valued at $200 and has a personal estate of $112. He was born in Pennsylvania. Tobitha is 33 years old and was born in Ohio.

In 1870, Tobitha J. Robison is listed in Cleveland Township, Whitley County as head of household. She is 30 [sic] years old, has real estate valued at $150 and a personal estate of $100. She was born in Pennsylvania. Listed in her household is 12 year old Emily Jane, 10 year old Marietta, and 5 year old Arena Ann. All of the children were born in Indiana. If Marietta is 10 years old in 1860, she would be 20 in 1870. Unless, perhaps, the first Marietta died and a daughter born afterwards was given the same name? Was Emily Jane named after James' possible sister Emily?

Online Cemetery Transcriptions for South Whitley Cemetery show the following burials in section U row 16 stones 6, 7 & 8:
Emily Jane Robinson died January 3, 1875 aged 17 years 1 month 7 days
James Robinson died April 2 1860 aged 33 years 6 months 3 days
Samuel M Robinson died October 1855

There is an issue with two of the entries. James is listed in the 1860 census which was enumerated on July 27th. And 11 year old Samuel is listed in the household in 1860 also. Thus, a trip to the South Whitley Cemetery was in order!

Using the two images of the grave marker for James, shown below, I believe his inscription reads "James / Robenson / husband of / T. J. Robenson / died / Apr 12, 1870 / aged / 53 ys 6 m 3 d"



The inscription for James is on the south face of the stone. There is another inscription on the west face that is pretty much illegible, even with using the foil technique. However, it appears to be for the son, Samuel. The date can't be deciphered but since he is listed in the 1860 census I'd be inclined to think that he died in 1865 rather than 1855 as the above mentioned transcription indicates.

A marker to the south of James is also unreadable but it looks like it could be for Emily Jane. To the north of James there is another marker, not included in the online cemetery transcriptions, that reads "Infant / son of / J. and T. J. / Robison"



A little over a year after James' death, his widow remarried. Whitley County Marriages (book 2 page 120) show that Tobitha Robinson was married on June 26, 1871 to Joseph Mintz [sic]. I have not looked at the actual record yet so I don't know if Mintz is a transcription error or if that is what the record says.

My correspondent said that Joseph and Tabitha Montz lived in Chester Township, Wabash County, Indiana and that is where they were found in 1880. Joseph Montz was the head of the household, he was a 57 year old farmer and had been born in Pennsylvania.

His wife, Tabitha J., was 54 years old and had been born in Ohio. Living with them was 15 year old Anna Robison, born in Indiana, identified as a step daughter of Joseph.

If we go back to the cemetery, we'll see a marker to the north of Infant Robison that is now illegible. In the cemetery transcriptions it is identified as J. M. Alburn Carper, son of J & C, who died October 11, 1882 aged 11 years 11 months.

To the north of the Carper stone is that of Tobitha Montz:
Tobitha J / Wife of / Joseph / Montz / died / NOV. 1, 1882 / AGED / 56 Y's 1 Mo. / 27 D's


The James Robison family at South Whitley Cemetery, Cleveland Township, Whitley County, Indiana. Eliza Jane McMannen could be a sister of James.

Joseph Montz is not listed in the Whitley County cemetery transcriptions.

My correspondent is a great-granddaughter of James and Tobitha's daughter, Arena Ann Robison (also known as Irene Ann and Irena). Irene was born January 3, 1865. On June 3, 1883 she was married to Jacob E. Cripe. Sometime in the late 1890s Jacob and Irene traveled west via covered wagon, first living in Missouri for a while and then moving to Kansas. I found them in Montier Township, Shannon County, Missouri in 1900. I haven't found them in the 1910 census index at ancestry. In 1920 Jacob and Irene are living on Fifth Street in Pomona, Franklin County, Kansas. In 1930, Irena is widowed and living by herself on East 5th Street in Pomona.

The following information on Irene's family was transcribed by my correspondent from the Cripe family bible.
  • Jacob E. Cripe and Irena A. Robison wed on Sunday June 3, 1883 at the residence of J. Montz. Witnesses were Jacob Grow and wife, Joseph Lands and wife, Bob Cripe and wife and Lizzie Frantz (or Frentz)
  • Jacob E. Cripe born July 20, 1852, died October 30, 1928
  • Irena A. Cripe born January 3, 1865
  • Martha E. Cripe born July 6, 1884
  • Mary A. Cripe born January 26, 1888, died January 14, 1908
  • Infant son [of Mary's] died January 14, 1908
  • Alice Cripe born Nov. 2, 1889
  • Ira D. Cripe born June 5, 1894 d. April 27, 1975

!French Doors!

From the time we moved in 8 years ago we haven't cared for the sliding glass doors that led to the back yard. So on Friday we went to Lowes Home Building Store to get a new light to put in the yard as ours had quite. We did get the light but found French Doors on sale at a price we could almost afford. So we splurged and bought them. The first photo is of the old door after we pulled it out as I forgot to take a photo before it was removed. Next are photos of the opening for the door from inside and outside. Then come the photos of the new french doors as we got them in place and then got the lock on the door. We really like our new door but it has really confused the dogs and cats. The sliding glass door opened on in the left corner for them to go in and out. The new door opens in the middle. They keep going to the corner to get in or out. I hope they learn soon. I am sure they will.























































Monday, December 21, 2009

DIY Waterbottle Mounts on the Pashley Roadster

For a while now, the Co-Habitant has been wanting water bottle cages on his Pashley Roadster. I thought the idea was ridiculous, until I received a few comments from male Pashley owners expressing the same desire. I guess men like bottle cages on their bikes, even on a roadster? Fair enough! For those interested, here is the Co-Habitant's DIY solution:



Yes, you are seeing what you think you are seeing: Not one, but two bottle cages mounted on the inside of the handlebars, with twined, flat-cappedKleen Kanteen bottles inside them. The bottle cages are generic bolt-ons that can be found in many bike shops for around $7 (same bottle cages as here). For the Pashley, the Co-Habitant first took them apart, shortened them so that they would not stick out too far past the handlebars (I believe the drill and superglue were used), and bolted them to the handlebars, with the bottles facing inward. Now he has direct access to water, while remaining upright.



Here is the "cockpit view". And yes, that is a cycling computer you see mounted on the stem, in between the bottle cages. On a Pashley. What can I say, the man has his quirks.



My opinion on this project? I think that if he mounted just one bottle and stopped there, it would have been successful.



With two bottles, I think he went overboard with the eccentricity factor and the bottles look like a pair of missiles. What do you think?



And if you are wondering why he did not just use one of those coffee-cup mounts that are designed for the handlebars, he did not think they were sturdy enough, or accommodating enough of different containers. I agree: These bottle cages are super-stable and the bottles do not budge or vibrate at all inside them. It is a very secure set-up, and the flasks can be filled with coffee as well as water.



While I do not agree with the choice to mount two bottles, I think that otherwise this is an innovative and practical solution. I am now considering installing a similar set-up (with just one bottle though!) on myPashley Princess.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Working out and silly details.....

I suspect when the hit count and membership goes up most who write a blog at some point start thinking what they write actually is important. Generally it is not. But like much of what I do, this isfor me anyway :) So you are forwarned!






the man in the mirror



If the last 6 months taught me anything it is I want to be the water and not the rock. And water is not my personality, never has been. So it is a big change. Days like today (when you are suffering) if nothing else gives you a more clearpicture of yourself. Why I ever go out on days I don't really feel like it, generally I'll neverfully understand. But today I knew. There is a storm comingin tonight so I wanted to enjoy a tiny bit more sunshine. But I didn't really enjoy the sunshine. And the sun effectedsnowin the morningwas well frozen shiteby the time I headed home. Marley really enjoyed thesnow conditionsso that was onebonus! Me? Not so much, in the breakable crust. But it was my attitude not the snow conditions that sucked. For the typical climber with anA personality it pays to remember that it is not the workout that makes you stronger, but the rest and recovery after the workout.



When I really want to climb I don't take a HR monitor. But so much of my time outside is onlytraining for something else more important to me. Which can make some days"less than fun". The HR monitor is generally my close companion. One Iam constantly conversing with and referring to. If you are going to train, pays to heed the workout zone and the level of the effortfor your desired effect. You simply needto pay attention to the details.






Zone 3





Zone 4





Zone 5



Speaking of details. This the second time I have skied in a pair of Dynafit "Movement" pants.









They came highly recommended but are hard to find asDynafit imports sofewto NA. I bought what was availableknowing they might be too large. (they are) I first skied in them beforecutting outthe pre marked buckle slots. Nice pant but not all that impressive on the first run.After all they are not much more thana niceweight ski tight with a logo.



Previous to this trip Itrimmed the premarked cut outs on the bottom of the legs. I am most impressed with the end result. The right pant really allows you to take advantage of the TLT boots in the back country. Dynafit's "Movement" pant is the "right" pant for the TLT. But easy enough to make your own as well. Again it is all in the details.








ski mode













walking mode









Home sewn pant mod that does has the same effect




http://www.randosaigai.com/jan_11.html




While I am thinking about clothing. This one was a surprise and continues to impress me, "Cabella's E.C.W.C.S Thermal Zone® Polartec® Power Dry® " long johns. Cabellas' is not the first place I shop for gear. But neither is Costco and both have surprised me in the past. The E.C.W.C.S Thermal Zone® Polartec® Power Dry®is a base layer made up of several different weights of Polartec materials that are smartly sewn. In comparison to other long johns I have used they are warmer and a lot less bulky. Which makes them much easier to move in and just as important stay dry in. There is some really amazing technology and effort incorporated here. I have one pair right now but will be buying more. The bottoms are that much better than everything else I have used. Ease of movement at the knee and no boot top bunch. Too my surprise I noticed both improvments today when I went back to skiing in the typical long john bottom.









E.C.W.C.S Thermal Zone® Polartec® Power Dry®top.

Nice mouth full ;)








More detail stuff, If you want to run a HR monitor or a tech watch and more importantly want to pay attention to them for some reason be sure to put them in the right place. This one is buckled over my base layer and the other layers are blocked from covering the monitor. Silly stuff, but just more details.









The details? Do you have a foot problem? Even just a tiny one? Pays to remember them the night before and address it then. Better thanlanding in the parking lot for what ever adventure you have in mind and forgetting there is a problem. A two inch strip of tape can make the difference betweena really fun day for me and enough additional pain to be really annoying. Another small detail.




Doesn't matter if it is Water or Rock. What you have seen here are some of my details. Just a small reminder to pay attention to your own details.