Conflicting Signals

We love our flowers at the Genuine Faux Farm, and we make a big to-do about the German bearded iris and the day lilies, with the big, bright and showy flowers.  We also love our pollinators at the Genuine Faux Farm, and we make a similarly big to-do about how we strive to make our farm friendly for beneficial insects and other critters to flourish and thrive - all while pollinating our veggie and fruit crops.

But, when these big flowers bloom, we rarely see any pollinators visiting them.  Instead, we see pollinators on flowers like this:

Rudebekia, Purple Coneflower, Milkweed, and numerous smaller, less showy flowers like clover, goldenrod, or hyssop are the stars when it comes to pollinator attention.  And we know why that is.

You see, the highly hybridized day lilies are bred specifically for flower and plant characteristics that humans appreciate.  There is very little, if any, consideration for making sure the traits that make a lily flower interesting to a pollinator remain (or are enhanced).  In fact, there has been so many generations of selection to get flowers like the one I opened the blog with that I wouldn't be surprised that pollinators, if they could talk to us, would tell us that these are not, in their eyes, even flowers.

On the other hand, flowering plants that are native to our region or are closer to the native strains have been selected over time by the pollinators.  What I mean by that is that many of these plants rely on pollinators for their reproduction.  If pollinators do not visit, then these types of flower cease to reproduce successfully - so it is in their interest to show off for the pollinators.  If humans like them, that's fine too, because then we're less likely to mow them down or spray them, I guess.

On the other hand, an iris, like the one shown above survives and is able to propagate as long as humans show them favor.  So, the big blooms that don't tend to attract pollinators make sense because their path to survival is to impress US.  

This, of course, does not mean that these flowers fail to attract attention from other critters.  Deer have been known to take healthy bites of our day lilies and there are other insect pests that can give these plants some grief.  This is the source of some of the conflicting signals I referenced in the blog title comes from.

Even today, many of the big companies that propagate perennial plants that people like to put in their gardens still use neonicotinoids to provide a systemic resistance to pest insects that like to munch on decorative plants.  After all, a decorative plant with bites taken out of it seems much less decorative.  But the problem with this is the fact that neonics do not discriminate.  They kill pollinators just as readily as they do the pests that damage the plants.

This is why we got away from buying plants unless we could ascertain whether or not they were treated with these systemic insecticides.  Yet we still have these big beautiful plants here and there on our farm.

Are we sending conflicting signals?

Well, if we didn't send at least some conflicting signals about most anything we do, we would not be humans.  Humans are notoriously inconsistent.  But, we are doing the best we can to be as consistent as we are able.  We still love our big and bold flowers and we still love the less conspicuous flowers that the pollinators appreciate.  

We are consistent in our inconsistency.  We appreciate beauty in many forms.  We respect nature and how it works.  We do our best to find a balance.  We are always questioning whether we've got it right or not.  We do our best to adjust as we learn.

At present, our big beautiful blooms coexist with our pollinator habitats.  Neonicotinoid treatments are typically residual in a plant for one to two years.  So, any plants we may have unknowingly acquired with this insecticide (and are still alive) should have worked it out of their system.  Newer plants have generally been purchased after inquiring about pesticide treatments.  And we continue to work on providing wild space for our pollinators.

It's a worthwhile effort.  What do you think?

Five is Greater Than Four

It's not the first five-leaf clover I have found in my life, and I hope it will not be my last.  In fact, I can recall finding one or two each year we've been on the farm.  Like the four-leaf clovers, the five-leaf clovers also like to talk to me as I walk by.  There are just fewer of them.

Just as a reminder for what I wrote a couple of weeks ago, the odds of a particular stem bearing four leaves is somewhere in the 1 in 5000 to 1 in 10,000 range.  In fact, there is a study that is no longer found on the web, that made a claim that the numbers was 1 in 5076.

If you're wondering about the five-leaf clovers, the same study made the claim that the odds were one in 24,000.

Based on my own experience, I might argue that four leaves probably are about 1 in 5000, since a good clover patch can easily have 5000 stems in a fairly small area.  Six-leaf clovers seem to be more common than five-leaf clovers, in part because these may well be the result of two three leaves that did not fully divide themselves.

But, the five leaf clover?  I think they might be a bit more scarce than the 1 in 24,000 odds suggest they are.  What is even more rare is to find a nice, big specimen with leaves that are all roughly the same size (like this one).  Usually, you'll find the fifth leaf is a bit smaller or it sticks out at an odd angle.  You can even notice that one of the five leaves above is underneath the other four on this one.

This Australian news source actually did a story on a family that found two of them in one year.  If you take a look at the example they show, you can see what I mean about the fifth leaf.  This young person in Richmond, BC has one that looks a bit more even - though he flattened it out so we won't know for certain.  So, when do you suppose some news agency will contact me to talk about MY five leaf clover(s)?  

Yeah.  I thought so too.

LilyPalooza 2022 Begins

LilyPalooza at the Genuine Faux Farm has begun in earnest and the sad thing about is - Tammy can't easily get out to enjoy them just yet.  Her mobility on the farm is still restricted, in part due to a faulty wheel on the new "fat wheel" scooter we got so she COULD move around the farm.  Once the wheel arrives, we can hopefully get her out and about to view the pretty things that are showing off their fancy clothing right now.

But, since Tammy can't easily see them by roaming the outdoors, I present these pictures from yesterday's quick walkabout.  It's a win for all of you too.  Because you also get to see these pictures (as long as Tammy is willing to share?).

Enjoy the flowers while they're here as they don't dress up every day of the year.  If you take the time to see them now, you can file away their image in your mind.  And then, when you need something to chase the grey skies away, they'll be right there - waiting for you.

I Learned Something New - Postal History Sunday #100

Well, well.  We actually made it all the way to Postal History Sunday number 100.  So I am going to use this blog to celebrate - and if you are so inclined, please feel free to join me in the celebration.  Instead of grabbing your favorite beverage and putting on the fluffy slippers, let me suggest that you get a favorite snack AND a beverage.  Maybe you can even play some music you enjoy while you're at it.  That's a celebration!

From the beginning, one of the motivations for Postal History Sunday was to encourage learning and exploration - both mine and yours.  I am hopeful that at least a few of the prior 99 entries have enticed you to learn something new while enjoying the process in a comfortable environment.  

This post will be a celebration of learning - specifically my learning.  I thought I would share a few of the many new things I have learned thanks to this series of writings.  The beauty of this hobby is that postal history artifacts provide me with physical examples that motivate me to explore.  As a result, I find that I benefit from new information and understanding each time I undertake writing one of these posts.

And now, let's see some of the things I have learned over the past (almost) two years.

There is Joy in Discovery

Let me start with the blog post that was the first for 2022, titled Led Astray.  The focus of that entry was this 1864 letter from the United States to England shown above.  I had initially intended this cover to be one of the items in another post, but as I started to re-examine this cover so I could present it, I found that I did not understand the delivery address well enough to say what I wanted to say.  So, I opted for a different item to fill that spot.

After discovering that I did not have a full grasp of this item, I couldn't help myself.  I had questions now that needed answering, so I set out to seek those answers.  The blog that followed the next week was full of revelations, even though I had studied this piece of postal history before.  And now, six months later, I still think this entry might be one of my favorite Postal History Sundays because I learned so much about an artifact I thought I had explored well enough in the past.

This time around, one of the keys to unlocking the story had to do with the Unitarian Chapel on Roslyn Hill.  The house occupied by a Presbyterian minister is called a "manse."  I had heard of parish house, parsonage, clergy house and rectory - but not manse.  So, of course, I initially made the connection of "manse" to large house or mansion.  It was only by happenstance that there actually WAS a Roslyn House in Hampstead to lead me astray.  But once I made the connection of Roslyn Manse to the Unitarian Chapel, everything started to fall into place.

 It turned out I was wrong about what I thought I knew - and I am glad I was wrong, because the joy I got from the process of discovery was worth it!

Little Things That Became Useful

There are numerous little facts that I have discovered in the process of researching and writing Postal History Sunday.  I thought I would share a couple of small pieces of knowledge that became keys to unlock further learning.  For example, the circular marking at the right on the back of this 1864 folded letter that was featured in Pirascafo sul lago.

The marking to the right reads: Verbano 31 Mag 64 No 2

I searched for a town named Verbano in Switzerland and Italy - to no avail.  I tried numerous approaches to figure out what "Verbano" was referencing and was making no headway until I figured out that Verbano was another name for Lake Maggiore.  From there I learned that this was a lake steamship marking.  After that, I was off to the races, uncovering information about the steamers that ran mail up and down the lakes in northern Italy and southern Switzerland.

Then, there was this 1855 item from Modena that is featured in Duck, Duck, Goose.

Note the words "Via Malcontenti" at the lower left on this envelope.  My initial reaction whenever I see "via" is to think that this is a directional docket that says, get to your destination by going this way.   Things like "via Southampton" or "via Marseille" for example.

But, this did not make sense here UNTIL... I realized via means "street" in Italian.  It's a street address.

And suddenly another window opens and I can see more clearly.  

It's discoveries like these that keep me both humble and hopeful.  Humble because they remind me of how much I don't know and hopeful because even the tiniest bit of information could lead to tremendously important advances in my own understanding.  Discoveries like this also remind me to be patient with others if they do not see what I see.  If they don't see, that means they haven't found the key yet - and all I can do is help them to look for that key if they are willing to search with me.

Postal History Concepts that Became Clearer

I have often said that the best way for me to learn is to attempt to explain or describe a difficult concept to someone else.  There have been numerous instances where my own understanding of a topic matured from basic recognition to a higher level of mastery simply because of the words I have written in Postal History Sunday.

One of the earlier examples of a PHS entry enhancing my own understanding of postal history is the entry titled Sorta Paid from January of 2021.  

I was used to seeing underpaid letters being treated by various postal services as completely unpaid, leaving the recipient to pay for the entire amount of unpaid postage.  But, this folded letter from France to Spain was not treated that way.  After getting some help from an expert in this area and reading a few postal agreements of the time, I worked to create a post that would explain this new knowledge to others.  As a result of this effort I now have a much better understanding of how this works AND I am quicker to recognize other pieces of postal history that show similar characteristics.  

The basic idea is that France and Spain had two different postage rates, one rate was for mail that was prepaid and the other was for unpaid mail.  If a letter had some postage, but not enough, the unpaid mail rate was used to determine how much was due, but credit was given for the postage that was paid.

Triple unpaid rate due = 54 cuartos
Less amount actually paid = 24 cuartos   (80 centimes in France)
Total due at delivery = 30 cuartos

Another example of something that I only understood the barest basics of until I motivated myself to write a PHS blog about it is shown below.  This one is featured in Pushing at the Edges.

This piece of letter mail from France in 1867 is an example of valeur déclarée - and it turns out figuring the cost of such an item requires a slightly different understanding than regular letter mail.  I have to credit my desire to be able to explain it to others for the tenacity it took to pursue the details so I could give an accurate accounting.  After all, it would be easier to just say "someone paid 60 centimes in postage for an insured letter in 1867" and leave it at that.  It takes a bit more energy and effort to describe what the stamps paid AND that additional fees were paid in cash (not using the postage stamps).

The cost was split into three parts:

1. A special postal rate that is calculated based on weight
2. A flat additional fee of 20 centimes (the registry fee)
3. Payment for insurance to cover the declared value of the item being sent.
   

Only the first two could be paid with postage stamps.  The third cost was paid in cash to the postal clerk.

A third example of a post that enhanced my understanding of postal history is the Postal History Sunday titled With This Ring.  This marking and the cover that bears it has been in my collection for many years.  And, for most of those years, I have been content to have and use a simple explanation for its existence - even if that explanation was less than robust.

What I had understood before was sufficient to give a two sentence description that was certainly accurate and, frankly, sufficient in most situations.  But, when I decided I wanted to write about it, I found I had too many questions about the details.  And, it turns out they were important details that were worthy of exploration.

The short story, for those who don't want to go read the original post, is that any mail that had to be redirected to a new address (because someone had moved, or some other reason) was required to pay more postage - as if it had been remailed.  But, there was an exception. If the new location is WITHIN the same local delivery area, no additional postage was needed and the letter could simply be redirected to the new address.  In London, these markings were used to indicate free mail forwarding in these special situations.

Above is the letter from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas to London that started the whole inquiry process.

Social History Adds Depth to the Story

The process of seeking out a broader or deeper story line has provided me with endless opportunities to learn new things.  Or, I suppose, understand things better than I had before.

For example, the History of Great Lakes Navigation by John W. Larson provided me with this excellent illustration of the water level differences that had to be dealt with as canals and channels were built to allow travel from lake to lake.

This is something that has just never really sunk in for me until the moment I found this illustration as I was looking for a bit more information to surround this item that is featured in the Postal History Sunday titled Steam Boat.

While I appreciate learning facts like these, I'm not always certain other folks will agree with me.  So it was rewarding when I heard from multiple individuals that they found this particular graphic engaging.  Even better, I did not just hear it from other postal historians, I got positive feedback from others who read Postal History Sunday, but are not inclined to be postal history hobbyists.  

Let me say it one more time - Postal History Sunday is intended for anyone who is interested.  I hope that my writing stays accessible to those who have little postal history knowledge while still remaining interesting for those who do.  Isn't it great to be able to share something you enjoy in such a way that those who already appreciate that thing are happy to see it AND others can at least appreciate some of WHY you enjoy that hobby?  Well, I think so!

Another favorite discovery of mine has to be the Mouse Tower at Bingen (from Dominoes).

Photo from wikimedia commons, viewed 1/22/22

There is an island near Bingen where an old tower still stands - and it bears the name Mäuseturm - which is translated as "the Mouse Tower."  This tower is known for its connection to a legend that features the Archbishop of Mentz, who treated the peasantry cruelly, murdering many of the poor to prevent them from eating too much of the food that was in short supply.  Archbishop Hatto fled to this tower to escape an army of mice, who pursued him there - he was then devoured by the mice as God's judgement for his wicked ways.

Really!  I picked this up in the process of researching a piece of postal history.  It's colorful.  It's interesting.  It makes me want to learn even more about Bingen - and maybe it even makes YOU want to learn more about Bingen and the pieces of postal history that are linked to that town.

I had a difficult time trying to limit the number of examples I wanted to share in this Postal History Sunday because most Postal History Sundays have something that seems to expand my knowledge of things outside of postal history.  I built a better understanding of what "Greenbacks" were during the Civil War.  I learned that the philosopher, Voltaire, purchased the land around the small hamlet of Ferney in 1759.  If you look on modern maps, you might see that the name is often referenced now as Ferney-Voltaire.  And I learned that experienced St Lawrence Seaway navigators recognized variations in compass readings could lead the unwary to run aground on Anticosti Island.

And who could forget the posthorn?  The Thurn and Taxis postal carrier would ride on his horse or carriage and use a posthorn to announce arrival.  If you have interest, you could hear the sound of a coach horn  (used as a posthorn in England) at the Postal Museum's site.

Amazing.  Postal History Sunday even has music periodically.  Who knew?

Postal History that Adds Depth to Social History

Sometimes things in Postal History Sunday go the other way around.  Some of the topics have a focus on the social history that surrounds an item, and the postal history becomes an ornament that broadens the story line.  One good example of this is the Mighty Pencil.  This particular post initially focused on the advertising design for Dixon lead pencils, which is not a postal history topic.  But, as I explored this particular piece more carefully, I was drawn to the machine cancellation on the cover.

As mail volumes increased, there was motivation for mechanical innovations so more mail could be processed in less time.  The featured item was postmarked with one such device (which hobbyists refer to as machine cancellations).

Machine cancels are just one part of postal history that I have spent little to no time on.  But, suddenly I found myself learning about William Berry and his cancelling device which can be viewed on the Google patents site.  One of the illustrations that was part of the patent paperwork is shown below:

These things can go round and round because the postal history led me right back to some social history that had nothing to do with pencils.  One site erroneously provided an incorrect picture of William Barry, the inventor, illustrating a white man.  However, William Barry is listed, in this 2012 book by Keith Holmes, as one of many Black Americans who have successfully created inventions and received patents in the United States.  And, as a result, I found a properly vetted photograph of Mr. Berry, shown below:

And, of course, the post titled Unforgotten focused on a letter sent to an airman during World War II who died before the letter could be delivered to him.  It was easy to focus on the social history and the war history that surrounded this item because that's what was initially calling to me as I started exploring.

But, a significant portion of this post looked at the route this letter had to take, first to get to Italy and then to Australia, and finally back to the United States.  Could the story have been successful with only the basics of postal history and the details pertaining to Geoffrey French's service and subsequent loss of life?  Of course it could!  Routes are a key part of postal history and aren't really necessary if you're going to talk about Mr. French's story.  But the Postal History Sunday story became so much more robust and interesting as I explored and learned more about the routes and the challenges war created for the transportation of mail.

Why Dedicate Myself to Postal History Sunday?

I have been asked why I put so much of myself into Postal History Sunday.  In fact, I've asked myself this question on days when I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by how quickly the days turn from one to the next and a Sunday suddenly looms on the horizon.  Now we have our answer.  I like to learn new things.  I like to tell stories of the past that have depth and breadth and I like to share what I enjoy with others because it encourages me to dig deeper and communicate well. And, I like to share with others because I want to contribute at least a little to other people's happiness and thirst for learning.

And now that I made my goal of one hundred Postal History Sunday entries, what's next?  Well, for now, we're going to get to two years (to post 104).  After that, we'll see what's next.  I have anywhere from 40 to 60 more topics I would like to share and I come up with new ones all the time.  But, I've got to balance the resources of time and energy I have with my desire to produce quality writing.  So I'll keep going for as long as that balance seems to work.

Besides, I'd like to be able to take the time to share the stories that surround this item in the near future.

And maybe I'll finally finish the complex story that surrounds this item?

Or maybe I'll explore this folded letter and unlock its secrets next?

Who knows which one(s) will be next?  I certainly don't.  After all - I've got a whole week to figure it out and learn something new in the process.

Thank you for joining me this week and allowing me to share something I enjoy with you.  Have a good remainder of your day and a fine week to come.

Bold and Self-Righteous

I have always been leery of people who make bold and self-righteous statements.  And, sadly, much of our talk radio, television and social media is geared to spur reactions.  Each of these media know they are most successful at getting reaction when those who thrive on being bold and self-righteous speak - so they cater to people who do that very thing.

Nothing does it better than a bold and self-righteous declaration.  Especially if it is one that points out someone else's deficiencies and illustrates our own self-appointed superiority. 

Hey, I get it.  It is difficult to be motivated to take a stand for anything that has a complex answer.  After all, if it doesn't fit on a sign - or in a twitter post - then it is really hard to encapsulate that which is supposed to motivate us to make things better (or whatever it is we want).

The real issue here is the fact that any issue or problem worth our time for discussion and resolution is far too complex for bold and self-righteous declarations if we really, REALLY want to figure out the best thing to do.  Yet, we still allow ourselves to be swayed by the big, bold - and it usually helps that the messenger is beautiful (I guess).

Perhaps it is my sensitivity to this particular issue that has led me, throughout my lifetime, to seek out opinions from those who show humility within their areas of competence.  Of course, I would prefer that an expert in any subject area have confidence.  But, I, for one, believe a person can be confident, capable, and still show recognition for both the complexity of a subject and the possibility that they are not always correct (or that the answer they suggest will not fit all situations).

If I recall correctly, Socrates was quoted as saying that "the only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."  And, I also seem to recall that Socrates pointed out that one of the greater parts of wisdom is recognizing how much and what you do not know.  Being confronted by how much we don't know is an extremely uncomfortable thing.  No wonder we are drawn like flies to honey when someone makes a grand statement that they know the answer and it is... 42... or something like that.  We would prefer to look at and hold onto a loud inaccuracy than be uncomfortable with uncertainty.

I get that too.  It's not fun feeling uncomfortable and sensing that you are directionless sometimes.

But it has gotten so bad that the bold and self-righteous statement has gotten to be a bit like a drug.  Once we swallow one pill, we want another - and it just gets harder to dig in to the mess that is what life is.

Here's to digging in.  Won't you join me?

Despite My Negligence

We expect a great deal of ourselves at the Genuine Faux Farm.  That, in and of itself, is not necessarily a bad thing.  But, when life gets more complicated, it can become a problem.  Neither of us is all that good at saying no.  But, we have managed that every once in a while with some success.

What I, in particular, am not good at is letting things go.  Or, maybe I let things go simply because there is no way for me to actually get it all done.  That is probably not the healthiest way to "let it go" because there is a great deal of guilt and/or disappointment that tends to come along with it.

Despite my negligence, the clematis on the farm bloomed for us again this season.  Currently, the Jackmanii are doing a nice job with their big purple blooms.  A few weeks ago, our other clematis graced us with their presence.  All of this, even though we have not cleaned up those perennials beds like we told ourselves we would finally manage to do.

Thank goodness for the resilience of these plants.  We have some nice daylilies poking up through the weeds with many flower stalks and some have already begun the bloom season.

Maybe some things do better if we am negligent, because some of the things we have actually stayed on top of aren't always turning out all that well.

I thought Tammy had done a nice job of putting some flowers in to pots that could be on our back deck this year.  And we both worked to get indoor plants outdoors for the summer - putting them in the same area around the back deck.

I've been making sure they stay watered and we've both been "dead-heading" flowers so we can have more blooms.

Sadly, some deer have now decided those plants are on the "hit list," with the kicker being Monday morning when I went out to find that the deer came up ON the back deck, kicked pots around and munched on various plants.  

Let's just say they really like every part of a spider plant.  Yes, that includes the roots.

Things like this are upsetting anytime they happen.  That's certain.  But, when you are feeling like you are not doing a particularly good job at much of anything, this can be a bit of a downer. 

Still - despite my negligence the birds still sing in the trees and the bees still buzz from flower to flower at the Genuine Faux Farm. 

Let's Send a Letter to Switzerland - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the 99th entry of Postal History Sunday, featured weekly on the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you take this link, you can view every edition of Postal History Sunday, starting with this one (the most recent always shows up at the top).  Only one more PHS entry before I can stop the countdown that has appeared for the past several weeks!

This week, I am going fall back on the small niche of postal history for which I have the most comfort - and that is material that bears the 24 cent 1861 stamp from the United States going to foreign destinations.  Today, I thought it might be fun, since we just did a blog that highlighted how taking a different route could result in a different postage rate, to do the same thing with the US and Switzerland in the 1860s.  

Hang on to your hats!  There is a great deal to talk about here.  I strongly recommend you go get your favorite beverage and put on those fuzzy slippers before starting.  The good news is that there is NOT a quiz afterwards.  You can simply slip happily through the words that follow, enjoying your virtual travels with letters that went from here to there in the 1860s.

Double the 21 cent French Mail rate from the United States to Switzerland

Letter mail between countries prior to the General Postal Union (1875) relied on postal conventions that were established by treaty between nations.  Needless to say, not every pair of sovereign states had a direct agreement that dictated how mail would be exchanged.  Mail between nations that did not have a direct agreement relied on a chain of postal conventions that connected them.  In most cases, that chain was created by finding one intermediary that had independent agreements with both of the states in question.  Mail that does not originate within a country and also does not reach its destination within that nation is said to be in transit through its postal system.

Case in point, Switzerland and the United States had no postal convention in place until 1868.  This makes sense for several reasons, but the most obvious is that there was no way mail could be carried between the US and Switzerland without transiting a third nation.  A quick look at a map will show you that Switzerland has no direct access to ocean transport.  The Swiss would have to travel through one of Italy, Austria, France, some of the German States (Wurttemburg, Bavaria, etc) and possibly have stops in Belgium or other nations along the way.  Any postal agreement between Switzerland and the United States would require connections to other agreements just to manage the transit through some or all of these independent states.

In 1860, the United States maintained postal agreements with the French, Prussian, Bremen and Hamburg systems.  It was also possible to send mail to the British mail services to be sent on through whatever routes were available between the United Kingdom and Switzerland.  

That's actually quite a few choices a person could make just to send a letter to one, smallish, country in the middle of Europe!

French Mail to Switzerland

The French mail system provided the United States with services to Switzerland from April of 1857 until December of 1869 at a cost of 21 cents per quarter ounce (7.5 grams) for letter mail.  Much of this postal convention can be viewed can be viewed here if you are curious.

Mail to Switzerland via France would travel by trans-Atlantic steamship from New York, Boston, Portland (Maine) and Quebec bound for locations in England, France and Germany, depending on which steamship line carried the piece of mail in question.  Items bound for France would typically sail directly to France or travel via Britain.  The entry point in France was most often Calais (or the rail line from Calais to Paris), but it could also be locations such as Havre and Brest.  If you would like more detail on how mail got to France during this period, this post will provide you will provide you with that information.

border region of France and Switzerland

The rail systems in France were developing rapidly from the 1840s through the 1860s.  For most of the 1860s, foreign mail was carried by train to Switzerland via three primary border crossings.  There were other crossings that typically handled local mail and were unlikely to carry foreign mail, though it is technically possible.  Mail could enter Switzerland in the north at Basel, west at Pontarlier and south at Geneva.  The route was chosen based on a combination of train schedules and location of the destination relative to the border crossing.  The hope was to send the mail via the route that would see the quickest delivery time.

The envelope shown above (and at the beginning of this post) is presumed to have gone via Pontarlier based on some incomplete train schedule data that I have located.  It is entirely possible that this is incorrect and I hope to be able to decipher the route more fully in the future.  The 1864 year date makes it possible that the entry was in the south at Geneva depending on the completion dates of some of the rail lines in the Jura mountains.

The difficulty for a postal historian who wants to figure out the route a letter took is that letters transiting France to Switzerland from the United States were not provided some of the same markings seen on Swiss/French mail.  As a result, we get fewer clues from the piece of mail to isolate the route once it was in Europe.  Instead, we are left to speculate by looking at train schedules and, perhaps, looking in a crystal ball or some tea leaves.

And now we take a quick diversion!  Someone asked me how I display postal history, wondering what that might look like.  So, below is the exhibit page I created for the letter shown above - feel free to click on it to view a larger image.

The letter shown above appears to have been sent from New York City to La Chatelaine near Geneva, Switzerland.  The portion of the address panel that reads "pres de Geneve" simply indicates that this is La Chatelaine "near" or "next to" Geneva.  The larger, red circular marking was applied in New York, dated March 9 and indicates that 36 cents of the 42 cents collected in postage is to be passed to France to cover postal expenses not rendered by the United States postal system.  The French then passed money to the British and Swiss postal systems to cover their parts in carrying this letter.

The breakdown of the postage rate is often not as simple as saying 6 US cents go here and 12 US cents go there.  What can be said entirely accurately is that 42 US cents were collected via US postage.  Thirty-six of those US cents were passed to the French postal system.  An amount roughly equivalent to 16 US cents was sent in French centimes (probably 80 centimes) to the English to cover the sea passage and the transit on British rail from Liverpool and the English Channel crossing.  This left 20 US cents, which is in the neighborhood of 1 franc in French currency, to cover transit through France and the cost of mail in Switzerland to deliver to the recipient.

For the sake of argument, mail from France to Switzerland cost 40 centimes (French) per 1/4 ounce.  So, this double weight letter would have cost 80 centimes if it originated in France.  This rate was split at 50 centimes for French postage and 30 centimes for Swiss postage.  So, it is not unreasonable to speculate that 30 centimes (about 6 US cents) was passed on to Switzerland to cover their postage costs.

Did you follow all of that?

No?

Let's try this instead:

• The US retains 6 cents of postage.
• France receives 36 cents from the US.
• Britain receives 80 centimes from France.
• Britain pays 6 pence to the Cunard Line for trans-Atlantic crossing.
  
• Britain retains 2 pence for internal rail service and the English channel crossing.
• France passes 30 centimes to Switzerland (equal to 30 rappen) for the Swiss mail service.
• France retains 70 centimes for their internal mail.

Now you're all saying - why didn't just put it this way in the first place?  The answer?  I don't know, I think it's because I like to hear myself write.

All of these amounts are estimations because I am not currently willing to work out all of the details as to actual exchange numbers between all of the players. involved.  For this excercise, I am operating under a simple 5 French centime to 1 US cent conversion, though the actual rate was 5.26 centimes per 1 US cent.  In the end, that conversion number matters less because the actual postage breakdown numbers are filtered through three sets of postal treaties; the treaty between the US and France, the treaty between France and Britain and the treaty between France and Switzerland.  In the end, it appears that the French make out like bandits since their internal rate was 40 centimes for a letter weighing 10 to 20 grams and they walk away with 70 centimes instead!

There is still plenty that can be explored regarding this cover.  If you look, you will notice several manuscript markings.  A pencil "2" notation certainly was applied to indicate that this is a double weight letter.  I have no idea whether the "53" is a postal marking or a filing docket placed on the envelope after it was received.  The "12" has all of the hallmarks of a postal marking, but I am currently at a loss regarding its importance.  It is crossed out which may mean it was placed on the cover in error OR it shows an amount passed and then recognized as passed and crossed out.  In that latter case, crossing out the amount makes it clear that it is not a due amount for the recipient.

Prussian Closed Mail to Switzerland

The Prussian mail system provided mail services for the United States to Switzerland starting in 1852 until December of 1867 when the Prussian system was superseded by the North German Union mails (essentially the Prussian mails with other German mail systems consolidated with it - a topic all its own).  The postage rate was 35 cents per half ounce (15 grams) until May of 1863 when the rate was reduced to 33 cents. *

* This may be, in part because Baden's rate drops from 30 cents to 28 cents in May of 1863 to align it with the rest of the German-Austrian Postal Union.  Also a topic worthy of more discussion.  I told you this stuff could get a bit complicated sometimes!

Mail to the Prussian system typically traveled through Belgium after a stop in England.  Mailbags would enter the Prussian mail officially at Aachen (Aix la Chapelle) or on the mobile post office between Verviers and Coeln.  

Both Belgium and Prussia featured highly advanced rail systems that facilitated rapid mail dispersal.  Travel to Switzerland from Aachen required transit through Prussia and Baden or through Prussia, Hessian states, and Wurttemburg. 

In the case of the item below, the markings include the Prussian "Aachen" marking on the front, a Baden railway marking on the back and two Swiss markings also on the back.

28 cents paid only to the border of Switzerland

The Prussian system is interesting in that it would allow mail from the United States to be paid 'up to the outgoing border.'  In other words, the sender could opt to pay the 28 cent rate to get a mail item to anywhere within the German-Austrian Postal Union (GAPU).  Once it reached the border, it would be sent on - essentially as an unpaid piece of mail from the Prussian system to its destination in Switzerland.  

In this case, the recipient was required to pay 10 rappen (or centimes) in Swiss postage for the privilege of receiving their mail in this case.  Remember last week, when we had some mail that went from Switzerland to Rome and the send paid for some of the postage and the recipient paid for the rest?  Yep, it's just like that.

The 28 cents in postage was divided into 7 cents for Prussia and 21 cents for the United States.  The U.S. was responsible for covering their own internal mail costs and paying for transit via England (which included the trans-Atlantic portion).  The Prussian mail system paid Belgium for the transit via Ostende (the equivalent of 2 US cents) and it retained 5 US cents for travels through the GAPU mail.  

Bremen or Hamburg Mail Treaty to Switzerland

Bremen and Hamburg were two Hanseatic cities that negotiated mail treaties with the United States including mail service to Switzerland beginning in July of 1857 at a rate of 27 cents per 1/2 ounce.  The rate was reduced to 19 cents in October of 1860 and became obsolete when these mail systems were combined with the North German Union postal system in January of 1868.  Initially, mail packets (steamships) traveled between New York and Hamburg every four weeks , but that increased to every other week (alternating with the ships that traveled to Bremen) as we progress through the 1860s.

Mail from Hamburg and Bremen typically traveled through Frankfort (Hessian territory) and would go through Baden to western Switzerland and Wurttemburg to eastern Switzerland.  

US to Switzerland via Hamburg Mails at double the 19 cent rate.

The different numerical markings help us figure out how the postage was shared between mail systems.  First, the blue "8" is in the German silbergroschen currency, which would translate to 19.2 US cents approximately.  It appears that the blue "8" was applied in Frankfort A Main, which would imply entry into the Thurn and Taxis posts.  They would have kept 6 silbergroschen for their transit of mail to Switzerland and 2 silbergroschen would have been passed to Switzerland for their surface mails (about 5 cents). The red marking next to the "8" is "2 fr"* which represented the amount passed to Switzerland.

* this is a weiterfranco marking, weiterfranco is a German postal term that indicates an amount of postage passed forward to the next postal service.

British Open Mail to Switzerland

The postal convention with England had a fully prepaid option to Switzerland from March of 1848 until June of 1857.  After that point, there was no prepaid option from the US via British mail.  I find that to be extremely interesting because that seems like a step backward in postal progress, something the British were not prone to doing.

Instead, a person had the option of paying the U.S. portion of the postage and then allowing the British Open Mails to arrange to have the letter sent to its destination, where all costs of mailing from the British system to its destination would be collected.  While this open mail was not in effect for all possible destinations, it was available for most of Europe.

The open mails were especially valuable for mail that was overweight but not paid as such - just as is seen in the item shown on the exhibit page and seen below.  The sender appears to have intended to pay the 21 cent French rate to Switzerland.  However, the item must have weighed more than 7.5 grams (1/4 ounce), which would require 42 cents in postage.  The postmaster realized that at least some of the postage applied to the envelope could be useful by paying the US portion of the trip to England, so the item was sent via the British Open Mail (21 cents per half ounce since an American contract ship took this mail across the Atlantic).

An alert clerk prevented loss of the entire 24 cents postage paid by using British Open Mail

 

It was up to the Swiss postal service to collect sufficient postage to cover the costs that were now to be split between the British, French and Swiss postal systems.  To simplify the accounting of the time, debits and credits were often (but not always) dealt with in bulk rather than a letter by letter basis.  For example, the British and French agreed on 40 centimes for every 30 grams of bulk mail.  The justification for this is partially based on an assumption that 30 grams would represent three to four pieces of letter mail on average.  

 

Rather than having an exact count of mail pieces and the rates paid, the entire mailbag could be weighed out to figure what was owed for the British (and later French) transit.  This is, of course, an efficient way of doing business as long as the actual averages held true to the estimates.  But, from a postal historian's perspective it makes it difficult to make the postage breakdown nice and neat.  I am sure this postal historian can get over that small issue - eventually.

For an initial take on the breakdown, please view the exhibit page if you are curious.

Why Choose One Option Over Another?

With five different options for sending mail from the US to Switzerland, how was a person to choose?

• French Mail: 21 cents per 1/4 ounce
• British Open Mail: 5 cents per 1/2 ounce OR 21 cents per 1/2 ounce with remainder to be collected from recipient in Switzerland.
• Prussian Closed Mail: 33 cents per 1/2 ounce (35 cts prior to May 1863)
• Prussian Closed Mail to border: 28 cents per 1/2 ounce with remainder to be collected from recipient.
• Bremen or Hamburg Mail: 19 cents per 1/2 ounce.

Clearly, if cost were the only consideration a person might prefer Hamburg Mail, French Mail or British Open Mail.  But, the French Mail rapidly loses its luster if the mail item exceeds 7.5 grams (now it would cost 42 cents).

Hamburg Mail looks good at 19 cents per 1/2 ounce.  But, what happens if you missed the most recent sailing of the ship for Hamburg?  You would have to wait one more week for the next departure to Bremen (or two to Hamburg).  Are you really willing to add another seven days to the typical 12 day transit period?  That means you would have to wait nearly a month for a reply.  The other mail systems benefited from being able to receive mail from multiple sailings each week.

British Open Mail and Prussian Mail to the border both require that the recipient foot part of the postage.  This may not be the best policy if you actually want the recipient to accept what you have sent to them.  After all, they were not required to accept and pay for these items.  On the other hand, there are multiple instances where it is clear that two businesses intended to split postal expenses in this fashion, so perhaps it was a reasonable option for some.

The last option to consider is the fully paid rate via the Prussian Closed Mails.  If the letter item was between 1/4 and 1/2 ounce, this option is clearly better than French Mail (42 cents).  If you were also concerned that the recipient accept the mail and not have to pay to receive that mail AND you found yourself in a position where you didn't want to wait a week for the next Bremen or Hamburg sailing, then Prussian Closed Mail is your choice.

As might be expected, my observations have shown more mail addressed to Switzerland from the United States using French mail or Bremen/Hamburg mails than the other options. Apparently, the choice was most often made by selecting the least expensive option.

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You did it!  You made it to the end of this week's Postal History Sunday!  I hope I managed to keep you awake and interested through most of this entry.  And, if not, I hope I didn't startle you with a couple of exclamation marks at the beginning of this paragraph.

We'll see you next week with Postal History Sunday #100.  Have a good remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.

Grand Iris Tour 2022

Better late than never!  The iris season has actually been completed for a few weeks now, but we did manage to get a few pictures.  Never mind that the pictures we got this time around were of flowers we cut to bring inside so we could enjoy them more.

I actually liked the photo above because it shows off the water droplets on the falls of this particular German bearded iris. 

The Genuine Faux Farm still has a fairly wide range of iris varieties and some of our old friends, like Proud Tradition (at top of this photo) come back to visit us every year.  I know both of us would like to treat our friends a little better, but we just never seem to get that extra care onto the top 100 of our lists, no matter how much we want to.

This year I was reminded why I like the selections we have on our farm so much.  Some of them feature colors that are bold and beautiful.  Others, like this one shown above (I do not recall the name at the moment) have subtle features that show colors blending slowly as you progress from the edges of the petals.  This one has what is known as a "plicata" design, which is where fine lines of color (purplish) bleed into another (white).

Kevin's Theme might be a favorite of ours over the years.  These plants never seem to thrive like other varieties do.  Even so, we have seen a bloom in our gardens every year since we moved to the farm.  It's usually only one or two stalks at most.  But that's nothing to complain about.

Then, sometimes we get a surprise.  This flower was HUGE!  I did not succeed in taking a photo that showed a contrast with an average iris bloom.  But, it had to be about 1/3 bigger than the others.  

We know and have had some larger varieties, such as Banana Frappe, bloom for us in prior years.  But, neither of us can recall this one rewarding us with a flower until now.   

Hey!  We'll take it.

If there is one color family iris seem to feature the best, it is the deep blues and purples that draw our attention.  Sometimes the color looks so deep and luxurious that you almost get the feeling that it would be like velvet if you touched it.  

Here's to some beautiful blooms in 2022 - and hopefully an even more successful year for iris in 2023.