All Hallows Eve Is Upon Us...

                                                  

                                                                           

All Hallows Eve is upon us...Inflatable black cats and wart-nosed witches seem to sprout overnight in neighbors' gardens. Silken cobwebs hang from doorways, rubber bats bob beneath porch railings; cheesecloth ghosts hover in tree branches, and leering pumpkins lurk on doorsteps...Such are the modern-day trappings of Halloween, sure to fill a young child's heart with excitement and fear. 

Not so for us older folks; thankfully we have moved on.  We have put our old childhood fears behind us, and new fears have taken their place... 

Old dolls are my own personal phobia--mostly the discarded ones, the ragged and dirty, the survivors of fire and flood...

  

Dolls that once were cherished, only to be cast aside and callously forgotten, now unwanted and unloved.  Always they seem to be waiting, watching... with unspoken accusations, and silent condemnation...  

 I cannot bear their icy stares-- their stony faces,  their unseeing eyes full of reproach...       

  

  

I shudder and quickly walk past, knowing they will haunt my dreams...

*****

 

Siobhan's biggest phobia is VooDoo, and anyone that practices it.  Laugh if you will, but I can see her point.  There is something deeply frightening in their primal chanting, the frenzied swaying as they dance in the firelight's shadows...the horror of animal sacrifices, the snakes, the skulls, the blood...Malevolence seems to radiate from the crowd.  You can smell your own fear...

VooDoo has long been practiced in The French Quarter of New Orleans, as well as in the older sections of Charleston, where Siobhan and I often visit. There it is still very much feared and respected.  (And in Siobhan's case, avoided...) 

 Two hundred years ago,  infamous VooDoo Queen  Marie Laveau died and was buried in New Orleans' oldest cemetery; people there still leave offerings by her crumbling crypt, hoping to appease her spirit...

On a  lonely a Charleston backstreet you will find a shabby storefront touting "VooDoo Shoppe";  a macabre display of wares graces its window.  The scowling proprietress watches you through the glass with obvious disdain... With her head down, Siobhan hurries past the door.  Would YOU dare to go in?  

  

*****

One phobia that Siobhan and I share is a fear of abandoned cemeteries--particularly the old ones that are overgrown with weeds, their ancient tombstones tilting and awry...  

                                                 

 

    

Tree roots twist among the graves, clawing and grasping as they try to pull everything underground... 

  

  

A shroud of mist seems to cling to old graveyards, along with a damp, dank smell... 

  

  

  

Crumbling statues seem to cry tears of rain... 

  

Here we walk with quickened steps, our eyes wide and our hearts racing.  Siobhan and I speak in hushed voices now, barely resisting the urge to run.   Silently we pass between the neglected graves, the weathered tombstones; the air itself is heavy with their desolation.   We do not linger here...

*****

When folks are asked "What puts fear in your heart?", most times they reply with a flippant answer.  Like "taxes".  Or "my wife's mother".  Or "my daughter's cell phone bill".  These people laugh it off  rather than admit to their fear.   But we all have something we're truly afraid of--something that without fail causes a sharp intake of breath, a rapid heartbeat, a rush of adrenaline and an irrepressible urge to flee...Whether we acknowledge it or not, it's always out there.  Waiting.  In the dark. 

 Happy Halloween.       

The Greatest Horse I Ever Had Was A Pony...

                                                                         
Horse owners have been heard to say, "If you hate your children, buy them a pony."  This pearl of wisdom is usually followed by vigorous nods and laughter all around.  But I don't agree...

                        
                                            
The greatest horse I ever had was a pony.  His name was Struttin', and strangely enough, it suited him.  He was a pony in every sense of the word--in stature (he was barely 14.2 hands), as well as in pedigree (his father was an Arab, but his mother was a full-blooded Connemara).  Struttin' was extremely curious, sassy and playful throughout his life... a beautiful dark bay with one white foot and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He could bite and he could buck--but Struttin' was my 4-legged son, and I loved him madly.
                                               

 He was incredibly smart; Struttin' could cut on barn lights and fans, and open gates and doors. (This often got him in trouble... he would turn other horses loose, and then they would try to kill him.)  Ponies are generally known for being intelligent (although most folks refer to them as crafty or wily).  I knew Struttin's Connemara dam, and she was no exception.  But Struttin' inherited a certain amount of genius from his sire's side as well; he was descended from an Arab circus horse that starred in a Roman riding act, but his favorite tricks were jumping rope and counting...

                        
                                                 
 Most horses understand the words Walk, Trot, Canter, and Whoa; Struttin' had a much bigger vocabulary. One day my husband and I were working on the horses' pasture fence, and my "son " was trying to help me.  He kept following me along the fence line, getting underfoot and pulling T-post caps off the posts faster than I could put them on...  I looked him in the eye and said "Struttin'!  Why don't you go help your father?!"  He immediately wheeled around, marched straight up to Liam and starting pulling tools from his tool belt and dropping them on the ground.  Sometimes Struttin' was a little too smart!

                                  

 I remember one occasion when Struttin' REALLY WAS helpful.  In the pasture each day, he always pawed the ground until he had a nice mound of loose dirt to roll in.  One day, just joking around with Siobhan, I stood near him while he was getting ready to roll, and pawed the ground with my heel.  He watched me for a few seconds, then walked over and gently nudged me out of  the way so HE could paw in my place.  When he had enough dirt piled to satisfy him, he walked back to his own dirt pile and rolled. (Apparently I wasn't doing it right!)

                                                   

Struttin' had a great sense of humor...Siobhan showed him in his first halter class when he was 2 years old, and she was 10.  About that time, Struttin' was truly going through the terrible twos, so my family and I held our breath the entire time they were in the ring.  Siobhan is a real trouper, and she got Struttin' through his paces without a hitch...
                                 
                                   

He walked and trotted in a straight line, to and from the judge, when asked; he stopped on a dime when Siobhan asked him to "whoa", and stood quietly with his feet squared while the judge walked around him several times.  We thought it was all over when the judge put his hand in front of Struttin's mouth, and the  Family Freak Show gasped aloud...

                                  

 

The judge was lucky.   Anywhere else, the poor man would've lost a finger or two--but in the show ring, the little changeling just stood there with a pleasant look on his face and his lips clamped tightly together.  To our amazement, bad boy Struttin' won 1st place in the class, and Siobhan was awarded a trophy and a blue ribbon...and then, on their way out the gate, Struttin' got a merry glint in his eye and bit poor Siobhan on the bum.  Struttin' was pleased with himself, Siobhan was mortified, and the audience roared with laughter.  You've got to admit--the pony had a sense of humor...

                                   

Struttin' had a mischievous streak as well--and it usually surfaced when a vet was nearby.  On one occasion, Struttin' very gently took a young vet's hat off his head with his teeth--then held his head so high that the vet couldn't quite reach it.  Every time the poor guy stopped jumping and grabbing for the hat, Struttin' would bob his head and wave it at him at him, and it would start again. It was quite comical to watch, and we had to laugh. Siobhan finally took pity on him and gave his hat back; as we watched him drive away, we knew we'd never see that vet again...           

                                                                                                                                                                                
The next vet made the mistake of standing in front of Struttin's stall with his back turned and his stethoscope around his neck.  Struttin' quietly stretched his neck out until he could just reach the stethoscope...then he bit down and backed up until the vet was pinned flat to the door.   The poor man's stethoscope was pulled tight around his neck, and his face was beet red.  Of course Siobhan and I collapsed in the barn aisle, helpless with laughter. (How could we NOT?!)  We never knew if it was anger or lack of oxygen that turned his face so red...

                                                                                                                             
Struttin' was just a "happy-go-lucky" pony.  He loved his life, and he truly enjoyed every minute of it--even when it involved work.  Sometimes he was a little heathen--rowdy, rambunctious, and sassy.  But he also was loving, loyal, and kind.  He eventually did outgrow the biting and bucking.  And he always, Always made me smile.  How could anybody NOT love a pony like Struttin'?!  To me, he was worth his weight in gold...

 

                     

"Gypsy gold does not chink and glitter.  It gleams in the sun and neighs in the dark.                                                           --attributed to the Claddaugh gypsies of  Galway

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Damn Everything But The Circus!

  
   "Damn everything but the circus--damn everything that is grim, dull, motionless, unrisking, inward turning; damn everything that won't get in the circle, that won't enjoy, that won't throw its heart into the tension, surprise, fear and delight of the circus, the round world, full of existence..."

                                                                                   --E. E. Cummings                      
                                    

 

 Siobhan and I recently attended a performance of Cirque Italia.  They are a somewhat small circus by today's standards, but their performers are first-rate. These young aerialists, acrobats, and jugglers all gave flawless performances, most doing more than one act.  The same performers sold popcorn and snow cones with a smile during intermission, and cheerfully directed traffic in the parking lots when it was time to go.  No prima donnas here! We marveled at their efficiency and their willingness to share the work load.  Even with their many jobs, they still found the time to chat with us after the show...

  

 

 Needless to say, we enjoyed ourselves immensely.  As Siobhan and I drove homeward, we reminisced about all the performances we've seen in the past 33 years-- for Siobhan, a lifetime of circuses... Some were large, some were small, but all were memorable.  Over the years, some aspects of circus life have changed--costume styles, modes of travel, sometimes the acts themselves.  Gone are the side shows, the dancing bears, the strong man acts.  One thing has NOT changed--Siobhan and I Never tire of the circus...      

 

 

There is just something about a circus...an indefinable "something", something with timeless appeal that transcends barriers of age and language and gender; something that gladdens each heart and puts a sparkle in every eye.  All the world loves a circus! 

 

 

But no one loves a circus quite so much as Siobhan.  I took her to her first circus when she was a very small child; we have not missed a single circus since. Now she is grown... yet still she sits on the edge of her seat, madly applauding and laughing with delight.  The age-old magic of the circus still has the power to entrance her--the glitter and glamour, the daring and the danger, the tantalizing smells of popcorn and cotton candy that seem to hang in the air.  They all weave their spells, and Siobhan embraces them whole-heartedly. 

 

 

 

 Here Siobhan is in her element; she is very much at home under the Big Top.  My daughter is a talented aerialist in her own right, and a noteworthy animal trainer as well.  More than anyone, Siobhan understands the reality of the circus--the long hours of practice, the frustration, the sweat, the blisters, the occasional broken bone--the grueling work it often takes to perfect such an act... 

 

 

 Even so, the circus magic still works its spell on her.  I look at Siobhan in the darkness, with the many colored spotlights playing across her radiant face; I give silent thanks to the circus, for all the times it filled her heart with happiness, and thrilled  her soul with excitement and anticipation... May it always do so.  Damn everything but the circus!       

 

 

 

"Keep the circus going inside you, keep it going, don't take anything too seriously; it'll all work out in the end."

                                              --David Niven 

 

                                                        

 

                                                                          

Building A Gypsy Wagon -- Part 5 / Before The First Snow Flies.../ A Vardo Sleeping Berth

                                         

Now it is October; thoughts turn to autumn leaves and pumpkin pies--and how much work we can finish on our wagon before the first snow flies...

Since our last update, Siobhan and I have managed to complete at least a few projects on our wagon. ( Work would have progressed much faster if I had not contracted Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever early in the summer-- and if all the rain had not caused an abundance of weeds to give poor Siobhan the worst hay fever ever!).  But after months of antibiotics, antihistamines, and decongestants, I think we're finally back on track...
                                               

                                    

On a recent trip to Lowes, we found a brass weather-stripping kit to go with our wagon's antique doorknob and hinges.  We promptly bought it and installed it around the wagon door.  (In addition to looking good, it will stop the door from rattling in its frame and keep the winter winds out!)
   
                                    

 Siobhan also found a brass trunk lid support that was strong enough to hold up the door on the table storage compartment. (This was no small feat--the door is made from a 1.5" x  7" x 48" antique pediment, and is quite heavy. ) We had to install the lid support at an upward angle to get enough clearance, but it works great. It no longer requires both of us to remove the table!
                         

We have finally completed the lower sleeping quarters.  We built and installed the berth's left wall much as we did the right wall in the last post--with a nightstand, 2 small cabinets, 1 large cabinet, and 2 book shelves.  (We think we managed pretty well, utilizing space in such close quarters!)

The floor space is just enough to accommodate an air mattress for sleeping, and an antique wood pediment is nailed to the back wall as a headboard.  With the built-in furniture now complete, we began working on the doors...
                                         

We framed in an 11" x 40" panel on both sides of the lower berth's doorway, and hung an overhead sliding door track.  We  hung two oak doors in the center. (The doors are wider than the end panels, and cover them completely when open.) We applied a 2nd coat of varnish to all the woodwork in the lower berth, and then moved on to the upper berth...

                                    

Siobhan and I quickly tired of climbing up and down the framework--so before we did anything else, we built a 5' x 18" sliding loft ladder for accessing the upper sleeping quarters.  We used 1" oak lumber for the ladder itself, and reinforced the bottom of each stair tread with steel rods.  We sprayed the rods with antique brass paint, and secured them on each end with brass nuts. We applied hidden felt pads to the bottom of the ladder's legs for ease in sliding, as well as to protect the floor.  After Siobhan researched several nautical ladder designs, she decided that handrails would be a nice addition.  Using concealed wood screws, we attached 4 antique hand-carved wood ram heads/legs to the ladder's front edge, placing 2 at the bottom and 2 at the top.  The end result is pleasing to the eye, and quirky enough to satisfy both Siobhan and me....
                                          

Next we completed the 6 1/2' x 7 1/2'  upper berth floor, using 1" x 6" x 8' tongue-and-groove lumber. (We pulled a string from the wagon front to back, to keep the floor square and the board edges true as we worked.) When everything was nailed down with oak panel nails, Siobhan stained the floor with 2 coats of Dark Walnut, topped with 2 coats of gloss varnish for a deep, rich finish.  We fashioned a interior window screen for the upper berth's window, using an appropriate sized wooden picture frame and pet-proof mesh screening.  We installed the screen with antique brass hinges at the top, and antique brass latches at the bottom. The look was quite nice, and Siobhan was pleased ...

                                     

Now we are working on the right wall's middle panel.  We built the frame from 2" x 2" x 8' treated lumber, and stained it with Minwax Golden Oak stain.

                                   

We then cut the siding boards needed to cover the framework from the inside.  We painted the outside-facing surfaces with Olympic Oil Base Solid Color Stain (Winning Red).  When the boards were dry, we carefully nailed them to the framework, pre-drilling nail holes as we worked. 

                                   

Next we hand-painted and stenciled our floral pattern on each 12" section, using enamel craft paint. We turned the panel face-down to dry, and proceeded to paint the panel back (inside facing surface) with 2 coats of Tavern Green Milk Paint.  We applied a coat of gloss polyurethane and left it to dry overnight.  Tomorrow we will turn the panel face-up, and nail on wood appliques to each 2" rib.  We will then apply 2 coats of spar urethane to all exterior surfaces, both stained and painted, and leave it to dry overnight.  Friday we shall be ready to fasten the new panel in place, using star-drive lag bolts.

Over the weekend we will begin work on to the middle panel for the right side, using the same steps and same materials as we used on the left.  As soon as both middle panels are completed and in place, we will update this post with additional photos.

Until then...
Baxt hai sastimos tiri patragi!
(Luck and Good Health!)

Can't You Read The Sign?! (Oct 9)

 Signs are everywhere these days...

 Some signs make us do a double-take; others make us wonder "What were they thinking?!"


Some of my favorite signs are school signs.  Schools are a necessary evil, and education is an important issue--particularly among parents and politicians.  I wholeheartedly agree with the need for better education.  A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste.  Truly.

 

                                                            

 

                                     

                           

                                        

                                      
Church signs are another favorite, but lately I have noticed a marked change in their tone.
In days of old, a church was a spiritual sanctuary-- a refuge for the down-trodden, the world-weary, the dejected and depressed.  Churches offered help and hope, and welcomed strangers with open arms.  Religious views have changed somewhat with the times--and so have their messages...


                  


              
                                           

 

                                 

                                  

                                                                            

                                                         

                                

                                                                           

                                                                                                                                      

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   
     Thank goodness, road signs haven't changed.  They still give cautions and warnings, and necessary directions...

                                 
                                            
                                                                         
                                         
                               

                     
                                                

                                        
                                                
                                                                                                                

Traditionally, diners and cafes have exaggerated somewhat on their signs and billboards in order to compete for customers. Diners used to boast "WORLD'S GREATEST HOT DOGS" and "WORLD'S BEST FRIED CHICKEN".  Nowadays, restaurants have a more honest approach...






                
                                       

                               
                     

                                         


                                            
***This tongue-in-cheek post may be a Sign Of The Times, but it is DEFINITELY NOT a Sign Of Things To Come--next week's post will be a Gypsy Wagon Update...
                                                

                      Sastimos!  (To your health!)