Murphy the Nibster

 

Well, it is official.  Despite the Inspector's annoyance with the zippy, little orange thing on the farm, we have decided to name the kitten that adopted the Genuine Faux Farm as its home.

Please welcome...

Murphy the Nibster.  For those who don't know, "nibster" is "monster" if you happen to shift your right hand over one spot as a touch typist.  How do I know that?  Hey, it happens sometimes.  The world shifts a little and your knowledge of the location of the "home row" goes with it.

At this point, I think both Soup and the Inspector will agree that Murphy IS a Nibster (Monster).  All you have to do is look at Inspector's face in the picture above.  Yeah.  That is not full and enthusiastic acceptance for having another feline eating out of the food bowl.

Before you get worried that Murphy will be abused by Inspector, I think you've got the worry backwards.  If anything, Murphy's zippy and erratic movements encourage Inspector to keep his distance.  We'll see what happens over time.  Maybe Murphy will join the team and graduate from Nibster status.

Stay tuned!

No, Murphy does NOT want to sit still for a picture.

Big Job, Little Shovel - Faux Real Story

 

Every time we have a build-up to another Iowa Winter storm, I am reminded of one of my earlier life experiences involving a significant snow.  I certainly felt the energy of the impending storm, just like every other elementary school-aged child who attended public school in the Upper Midwest. 

It was exciting!  It was different!  There was a definite tension being put out by the adults that the children certainly tuned in on too.

And, hey!  It was SNOW!  And possibly lots of it.  Probably enough for a snow day away from school, which was always fun - even if you happened to be a kid that liked school.

Maybe our family was different from yours, but we often undertook BIGGER play projects on snow days - if you know what I mean.  After all, there would be a whole day to fill.  Instead of a few crayons and a couple of pieces of paper, every possible writing and drawing utensil and REAMS of paper would come out. Instead of a batch of Matchbox and Hotwheels cars in a corner of the living room, we'd put together a track with a loop-de-loop and spend hours running cars off the edge of the kitchen table onto that obstacle course.

And, of course, we could expect a good session outdoors in the fresh snowfall.  Snowforts.  Snowmen.  Snowballs.

Prior to this particular snowfall, I had received a kid-sized snow shovel so I could help Dad with cleaning the driveway.  I seem to recall that I had a chance to use it a bit before the "big storm."  And, I am certain I had an outsized idea as to exactly how much "help" I gave Dad cleaning the drive after a couple of dustings or lighter snows.  It felt good to have the feeling that I had contributed and it was nice to be able to do something with him.

Flush with success on prior snow shoveling exploits, I was ready for the "big time!"  So, when this storm came along, I was ready.

We gathered around the kitchen, listening to the radio and waited for the pronouncement that Newton schools had closed - and there wasn't much wait this time around.  There had been a fair amount of wind and the drifting was severe - even in town.

I seem to recall that Dad still had to get to work and he said something about doing the shoveling when he got back home.  Upon hearing that I piped in with, "I'll shovel it for you Dad!"  There was a slightly amused look that passed between my parents, but I think I was given an encouraging reply.

Later that morning, I bundled myself up to perform my self-appointed task.  Our house had an attached garage that emptied in the back onto a covered patio and into the driveway in front.  My shovel was on the patio, so I went out there and pushed some of the snow off the edges of the patio and out of the way.  Then, I trotted through the garage towards the pass-through door in the front of the garage.

I opened the door.

And I looked straight into a wall of snow.  

The snow was pressed up firmly against the door and held in place when I opened the door.  As I looked up, the pile more than doubled my own height.  In fact, there was only a small sliver of light where the anemic sun shone through a tiny gap between the snow and the top of the door frame.

Now what?

Having minimal snow moving experience, I acted on the only solution that immediately came to mind.  I took one shovel-full at a time through the garage out to the patio and then threw that snow as best I could into the back yard.  If any snow fell off my shovel in the process, I would return to clean it up.  After a every couple trips I would stop and stare, with growing dismay, at the snow wall that didn't seem like it was changing all that much.

After a while, some of the snow fell into the garage (not a surprise really) and I worked on taking that snow through the garage, out to the patio and into the yard.  But, my level of dismay and consternation only grew with each trip.  Almost as if the pile of worry was trying to catch up with the pile of snow.  You, see, the image in my mind told me the snow was that deep ALL THE WAY to the end of the driveway.

How was I going to succeed at a task that big?

Eventually, my Mom suggested that I had done enough and I believe I was all too willing to believe her.  The shovel got pushed into the pile of snow near the garage door and I went inside.  Relieved to have had the responsibility taken from me.

When Dad came home that night, he was greeted by the image of a tiny shovel, poking forlornly - and maybe a bit defiantly - out of the snow pile by the garage door.  It turns out that the wind had really stacked the snow up on that side of the house and garage.  It's entirely possible if I had allowed myself to just be a kid and barrel into the pile a few times I would have found an escape through the door and pushed the snow away form the house more effectively than I had with the whole effort with a shovel.

But, it was a matter of pride.  I said I would SHOVEL that snow.  

So, I did.  No cheating.  No shortcuts.  Every bit of snow that DID get moved was moved via SHOVEL.

Sometimes we measure our success in different ways.  Today, I consider this effort a success because I gave my Dad a real laugh.  And I got a good story out of it.

Farms Need Wild Spaces - BOGFF 22

 

I have been watching, on and off throughout the last few weeks, as one of our neighbors methodically removes all of the bushes and small trees that populate a fence line between their field and another neighbor’s field.  One side of the fence has been planted to field corn every year since 2010, and the other alternates between corn and soybeans.  By removing the woody perennials between the two fields, they might each get another row or two of field crop.  But, I find myself doubting the wisdom of this effort.

When did it become imperative that we put every scrap of land into service for personal gain?  Why is it so difficult to leave even these small parcels of habitat available to wildlife?

Gateway to nowhere  

There is a gate that once held a position of prominence on our farm during the days when there were more pigs than chickens and others worked the land that is now under our care.  Today, a gate post holds up one side of the gate and a tree holds up the other.  The tree, being the obstinate sort, has decided it wants to be where it is and it will slowly swallow up the gate by growing around it.  It is possible that we could have removed the gate during the first couple of years of our stewardship, but there were so many other things on our 'to do' lists that this task was barely worth a mention.

Now, I usually don't take notice of the gate at all during the growing season.  Leaves and grasses hide it from my vision and it really doesn't lead to anywhere that I want to go.  Instead, it waits until the late Fall and Winter months to remind me of its presence.  When the leaves are gone and the grasses and other plants have died back, I start considering whether or not this area is due to be 'cleaned up' this year or not.  The answer, thus far, has been 'not now.'  It is possible that the answer for us might even be 'not ever.' 

Not every part of a working farm needs to be 'cleaned up' and not every gate has to 'go somewhere.'  Too many people have a tendency to believe that everything has to work for us and that it is a sin to not take advantage of every resource.  

I do not believe that the needs of the humans on the farm are, by necessity, larger, or more important, than other beings that make the farm their home.  Sometimes it is the 'messy' areas that become the most useful by providing that location where the frogs and toads can hibernate, or where the ground nesting bees can manage their colony with minimal disturbance.

Does this gate do anything in particular to provide habitat?  Oddly enough, it does.  The gate will not open the way it is.  Which means the humans don't go behind it without significant effort.  The farmers put up fences to exclude pests from getting at the hens or the broccoli.  Well, here is a case where a fence is being used to keep the pesky farmers out.  In a weird way, I actually find that refreshing. 

Wild places have a place on farms

Fence lines are fast becoming a thing of the past, as we continue to support the consolidation of farms into larger, corporate structures — and as we push the narrative that the only things that matter are yield per acre and acres in production.

It was just last winter that I watched a flock of a dozen Cardinals flitting around in the cover this particular fence row provided.  Flying gems that would then head over to our farm to partake in the dried berries in some of our bush lines and then back again as part of their daily routine.

I grieve a little bit every time I see another fence row flattened.  These borders have value — just like that gate on our farm.  They are reminders that the ‘wild’ places that are part of our farmscape have a purpose and that every purpose does not have to serve us.

-----------------

What's with the BOGFF 22 in the title?  I (Rob) am giving himself a bit of a blogging break at the end of the year in hopes that it will give me space for more creativity in the future.  Rather than creating a post or two linking the "best of" blogs for the year, while continuing to put out new material, I am resubmitting what I feel were some of the best posts for 2022.  Enjoy!

Keonelona Bay / Mahaulepu - Walk There Again

Welcome to "Walk There Again Wednesdays!"   Since we have a batch of them to share I thought it might be fun to put them out on a particular day of the week.  And, maybe, it will motivate us to get some other walks in as well?  It would be good if it did!

After a couple of days in Kauai where we did not take a hike, but instead visited farmers' markets, attended Christmas light festivals and visited an art festival, we did get ourselves back on the trail.  Part of the reason for the hiatus was weather related.  The entire island got some rain, including the drier west and south sides.   Since we were located in the southeast corner, we did not see much of the wind that resulted in damage at Koke'e Park and other locations.

More proof of mobility!

This time around, Tammy and I made sure to get up early so we could arrive at Shipwreck Beach on Keonelona Bay before many others got there.  This is the west entry point for the Mahaulepu Trail.  If that sounds familiar, we walked the east end of the trail earlier on the trip, starting at the Makauwehi Cave Preserve.

This end of the trail provides the option of walking on the bluffs that are next to the ocean or walking a little further inland under the shelter of trees.  We tend to like to walk out by the water early so we can take advantage of the trees on the return trip and cool down a bit.

This trail feels like it provides us with opportunities for all kinds of pictures. The obvious photos include something of everything that you can see while you are there.  The colors can be very dramatic depending on whether the sun is obstructed by some clouds or fully unhindered.

In fact, I think one of the things that draws us to Kauai is the richness of the colors.  And, it's not that the colors are bright.  Instead, the colors are deep and the colors are complex.  They aren't garish and they are perfectly natural.  It's just nature with the volume turned up a bit. 

There were still some scattered showers rolling over the island on their way to the ocean.  The good news is we only experienced light sprinkles on this walk - which really didn't bother us at all.  The heavier rain waited until it got over the large body of water, also known as the Pacific Ocean.

"Here," the clouds said, "it looks like you need a little bit more water.  You're looking kind of dry today."  Almost like a grandmother telling her grandchildren that they are so thin and they must eat more.  It didn't matter that they weren't thin or starving, just like it didn't matter that the Pacific Ocean was not in need of the extra water.

One of the neat things about Hawaii is that it does rain fairly frequently during the winter months.  But, it seems like it is usually scattered, so the sun is available to paint the sky with a rainbow.  

I think it became clearer to me why you can see a rainbow as a promise - thanks to Tammy pointing out that the presence of rainbow requires the presence of some sunshine and clear sky.  You see, a rainbow is a promise that works in whichever way you need it to work.  If you are in need of rain, the rainbow promises that there is some nearby and that it could come your way.  If you need clear skies, the rainbow reminds you to look behind you, because you can probably find the sun there.

The obvious pictures to take on this trail, as I said before, are the ones that show the contrast of jagged rocks with the tenacious plants clinging to sparse soil against the ocean with its wide range of blues, greens and grays.  It's actually pretty difficult to take a bad picture of something like that.  But, it is, I think, even more difficult to take one that fully exhibits how great that place really is.

The combination of the rounded horizon line in the ocean and the uneven footing often presents a challenge for keeping the image leveled.  More often than not, I found I was off just a little bit and it looks like the ocean is going to have to drain off to the left or right of the image I've collected.

Hence the reason I am happy about the development of digital cameras.  Take the shot... take lots of shots... and hope a few of them make you happy.

I was particularly intrigued by the roots sticking up out of the sand on the bluffs.  I mentioned those tenacious trees and bushes to you earlier.  Well, here is some of the reason they don't just go rolling off with the prevailing winds that blow in from the ocean.  

The roots snake in and out of the soil... if you can call this sandy stuff soil. As an Iowa farmer who is used to deep, rich, dark soil, it can be difficult to reconcile oneself with other soil types.  Even so, the visual textures were interesting, created by erosion over time from persistent winds and rain.

The strong winds tend to prune trees and bushes so they are lopsided.  Lower to the ground on the windward side and higher on the leeward.  The branches getting broken off on the front and growing longer in the back.   

Sometimes tenacity requires the knowledge of what battles one can win and which ones aren't worth expending the energy on.  These trees and bushes make themselves a bit more streamlined so they can keep living here.  It doesn't matter if they're symmetrical or horticultural specimens of perfect, and thus unnatural, beauty.  What they are is even more beautiful than the perfect specimen.  They are survivors.  They thrive because they have learned how to live where they are planted. 

Sometimes, even the base of the plant and its largest roots are exposed as the soil is washed and blown away.  Yet, the plant continues to live.  It's an image of hidden strength exposed.

Perhaps it isn't easy to see in the picture shown above.  So, you'll just have to take the words with the image.  I could have, if I wanted to, crawled under the roots of this bush/tree and sought some shade there.  Yet, when I touched the roots that were as thick as my arms I could not move them, even if I wanted to.  And to be truthful, I did not want to move them.  I gave them a cursory light push to judge their sturdiness.  Then, I moved on, not wanting to add on to the plant's trials.

I thought about taking many more pictures (digital camera, remember?).  But, the battery decided I had done enough.  That's the point when I realized the back up battery was happily ensconced in the charger back where we were staying.  Alas!

But, that's ok.  We were able to take a farmer-selfie before the battery quit on us.  Our shadow is all we endeavor to leave as an imprint of our visit to the Mahaulepu Trail.  But, the trail and its surroundings left a deep impression on us.

Finding Falls

Tammy and I enjoy the outdoors.  Now, we may not be as "outdoorsy" as many people because we're not fond of roughing it as many people are.  I suspect part of it is because we have had many years on the farm where getting muddy, dirty, sweaty and rain-soaked is/was part of the job description.  You see, we like to take our walks or hikes and then be able to clean up and sleep somewhere a bit less challenging because we don't necessarily want our recreational time to be too similar to work time

And, let's face it, after two major surgeries over the past two years (one each), we weren't going to do a super-challenging hike. Remember,this was supposed to be a positive experience, not an event where we might need emergency services to get out of it.

We do love the beautiful things we can see and observe in the natural world and one of our favorite natural phenomena are waterfalls.  In fact, there is one right in the middle of the picture shown above.

And this is more what you would see with the naked eye, rather than a telephoto lens on a camera.  There had been a fair amount of rainfall in the days just prior to our walk on the Iliau Nature Loop, so this waterfall was even more visible than it might be at drier times of the year.  That means it is entirely possible for people to view this overlook of the Waimea Canyon and fail to see this particular feature.  This is especially true for the vast majority of people who are intent on getting their quick "selfie in front of the spectacular view" and then move on.

Tammy and I do like to take our time and absorb what we are seeing - so of course, we picked out the water fall fairly quickly.

And then fixated on it.  We were both so enamored with the idea that we had found a new (to us) waterfall that we had to learn what we could about it.

Oddly enough, it was actually more difficult than I thought it should have been to identify this particular waterfall.  It's big enough and prominent enough that I figured I shouldn't have had to spend much time looking.  Of course, now that I know what it is, finding more information has become simpler.

The Wai'alae Canyon and Stream joins the Waimea Canyon and Stream and this overlook lines up so you can see deeply into the Wai'alae Canyon and Wai'alae Falls.  I was unable to find an estimate for the drop of the main falls, but based on topographic maps, it looks like about 600, maybe 700, feet.  It's only a guess - but it is a sizable falls.  And it can be pretty amazing, even from a distance when it is full.

For those who would like to see a video of the falls from a helicopter, you can go here for some stock video footage.  

As we stood, admiring the world around us, we actually identified two more waterfalls in the landscape across from us.  Out came the telephoto as I tried to capture "good enough" images that I might be able to blow up and explore further.  Can you see them?

Both falls were to the right (south) of Wai`alae Falls.  One of them is located in the left half of the picture above and is probably more of a cascading series of falls.  The second is on the right half of the screen and is partly obscured by a ridge that stood between us and our vantage point.

Here's the one at the left.  It is, as I said, more of a series of waterfalls.  Or just a river that has vertical challenges it must conquer.  We did some looking at various topographical maps and came up with the Loli River, which has several unnamed waterfalls - at least according to those maps.

I think Tammy and I both saw this one at about the same time.  From a distance, I have to admit that they do not look like much to the naked eye.  It takes a little eye training to recognize the tell-tale silvery-white that indicates to us that there is falling water at that location.  It sure didn't hurt to have some sunshine during this particular waterfall hunt.

The one on the right is a bit harder to see unless you are looking for it.  It is in the middle of the photo shown above.  You can see a cut in the canyon wall that is behind a ridge that obscures much of a our view of the Hihinui Falls.  

While hiking to these locations is unlikely for us at any point in our future, we were still able to explore them by combining our own walk on the Iliau Nature Loop, our willingness to be still and observe, our pictures and the interest in seeking out knowledge about the things we observed.  

In the process of our hunt for information, we located this panoramic photo by someone named Mike.  The same person also shares a photo of Hihinui Falls.   

In any event, Kaua`i provides people like us multiple opportunities to view waterfalls.  Some are made easy to view because overlooks have been constructed to facilitate their viewing.  Others, can only be viewed from a distance unless you are willing to pay to get in a helicopter or perhaps go on a tougher backpacking trip.  The two of us have been fortunate to view several of Kaua`i's waterfalls and to photograph them.  And now, we get to share some of what we learned.

More waterfalls in upcoming weeks on the blog!

Snirt Alert

If you've been driving in the country around my neck of the woods lately, you have probably observed a fair amount of snirt on the edges of fields and in the ditches by the roads.  If you're not from around here or you are not a person who periodically drives in rural areas where row crop fields are the predominant feature in the landscape, then I suspect you might not know what snirt is...  until now.

All you have to do is look at the picture above.  The pile at the right is a snow drift on the north edge of our property.  Snow is, of course, typically thought to be white in color.  But, that's not true if a fair amount of dirt came for the ride as the wind blew across acre upon acre of flat ground that has very little for windbreaks or groundcover.

Our farm has very deep snow drifts on the north and west edges because we have been working to develop vertical buffer strips around our farm with trees, grasses, bushes and even brush piles. But to be more accurate, our farm has had drifts on the edges every year we've been here once we took land in the southwest and east and changed it over to diversified production with buffer strips and pathways.

Today's snirt is on our farm, in part, because of the words of Earl Butz, Secretary of Agriculture for Richard M. Nixon.  Butz called upon farmers in the United States to plant from fencerow to fencerow and encouraged individual farms to get big or get out.  I should be clear here, however, that his declaration in 1973 did not mark the beginning of snirt in Iowa and other locations.  It merely emphasized a style of agriculture that has little regard for diversity and natural processes - a style that was already gaining steam, especially after World War II.

As a matter of fact, it started when Europeans moved west across the American continent and were insistent on adapting the land to their agriculture versus adapting their agriculture to the land.

Before you think that I will now make the claim that I know the best way to be a steward of the land without a shadow of a doubt, let me disabuse you of that notion.  I am fully aware that I do not have all of the answers.  All I know is that Tammy and I are dedicated to doing our best to be good stewards that listen to the land and are willing to be servants that keep it as healthy as we are able.  That means we make the best decisions and take the best actions we can with what we know and then adjust as we learn more.

There are, however, some things I do have a pretty good idea about.  For example, all of the "recreational tillage" so many land operators partook of this fall has resulted in places like ours collecting a batch of their top soil.  It is pretty well known that excessive tillage in abnormally dry to drought conditions is a bad idea.  And, if you don't believe me, here is some information from Iowa State University that gives you some reasons why this is the case.  And if you don't believe them, do some more searching on your own, I'm pretty confident that I've got this one right.

And to top it off, most of the state still looks pretty colorful given the January drought monitor.

Before you think I am getting all "high and mighty" here - let me admit that we have made mistakes at the Genuine Faux Farm and not made the best decisions for our land all of the time.  In fact, we have, at times, taken actions that were completely the wrong ones.  And that's part of the reason why I struggle with what I observe here.

I'm not convinced that enough people are thinking all that hard about whether their actions, when it comes to the land, are the right actions.  If they did, I would think knowledge regarding best and worst time to conduct tillage would be more common - and it would be less likely that so many would run contrary to that wisdom.

This drift along the north line of our farm is as deep as six to eight feet in places - and this is after they've been reduced a bit in size.  The first two evergreens you see in this picture are both about twelve feet tall.  Most of this is courtesy of the pre-Christmas storm that brought frigid cold, high winds and ... two to six inches of snow.

I think it is safe to say that our farm collected most of the snow that fell on it.  Though, with winds like that I am sure some of it blew somewhere else.  But, my point is these drifts formed because there are miles and miles of land in Iowa that has very little to no breaks for that wind.  When the particulates - both snow and soil - finally get slowed down by a few trees, bushes and tall grasses, they land.

And pile up.

The picture above gives you a good case study.  The area to the north of Valhalla has a bush line at the property edge.  The land between the bush line and the high tunnel has some tall (ish) grass.  It is not bare ground.  You can see white snow that probably gives me evidence that our farm likely got about 3 inches of snow, maybe four during that storm.

But then you look at the drift that formed nearer the bushes and you see the snirt.  The drift here is about five feet tall and gets taller as you move away from the picture, probably getting to eight feet at the far end. 

You see, the land at our farm is capturing much of its snow, despite the wind.  And, I think that's great because we want to replenish the soil moisture.  And snow, water filtration, freeze/unfreeze cycles are all part of the natural processes we rely on to help keep our soil healthy.

And we're also importing a fair amount of snow and dirt because others are refusing delivery of their snow.  Take a good look around at the corn and soybean fields and you will find very little snow there.

I watched a neighbor applying an amendment to their fields this past week and they drove heavy equipment along the edge of their field near the road entry point.  That ground is, certainly, more compacted than the rest.  By my observation, that area has lower yields.  Just by looking at it from the road, I can tell.  I would not enter their property without their permission.

I can also tell you, by observing from the road, that their worst weed pressures are along this edge of the field.  Lower production and higher costs, all in this strip at the edge of their fields.  The economics of it alone tell me that it might be wise to seek another solution.  Perhaps a grass strip?  Or a prairie strip?  Maybe allow the fenceline by the road to be something that catches the wind.

Maybe Earl Butz was mistaken and that we need to till it all up.  

Maybe I shouldn't say anything so I can keep collecting everyone else's top soil?

On Your Marks - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the third entry of Postal History Sunday for 2023.  PHS is hosted every week on the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  Everyone is welcome here, regardless of the level of knowledge and expertise you might have in postal history. 

A few people have been curious regarding the publishing schedule I maintain for these weekly entries.  Typically, I set each new effort to appear at 5:30 AM Central US Time - on a Sunday, of course.  So, if you want to bookmark one of the blogs I linked above, you can just go directly there each Sunday AM and expect to see that week's PHS after that time.  For those who prefer to be reminded that a new Postal History Sunday is available, I tend to post something on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram at some point later each Sunday, depending on how my day is going.  I also put a link in a comment on Richard Frajola's philatelists board. 

If anyone who reads these blogs feels motivated to share with others in your own circles, you may feel free to do so - there are plenty of fuzzy slippers and comfortable virtual chairs to go around.

A postal marking brings out a question

The special Christmas Postal History Sunday brought forward a question that I had not exactly considered specifically.  I had an answer almost immediately, but it had not been a question I'd put much thought or time into prior to that point.

I see postal markings as one part of the equation that makes up the story around a given piece of mail.  Yet, I have to admit that I do not always consider things from the angle of marcophily (or marcophilately), which is the study of the postmarks themselves.  A person who concentrates first on the markings for their sake might have felt these questions were worthy of immediate and undivided attention.  I, on the other hand, filed them away as a point of some interest and moved on to things like postal rates, ship sailings and an odd fascination that the addressee lived on Drury Lane (do you know the muffin man?).

It's all about each person's interests, experience and knowledge base.  Each individual may see something completely different to explore about any given object!

Before we get to the question that was sent my way, let's describe what I see when I read the cover shown above so we can all start at the same place.

This letter was mailed in Lynn, Massachusetts on November 2, 1863.  The postmaster at Lynn used hand stamps to apply two markings in red ink on the front of the envelope.  The first is a big, circular marking that reads "Lynn, Mass, Nov 2, 24 Paid."  These sorts of postal markings are often referred to as a "CDS" or "City-Date Stamp," though I have also heard people refer to it as a "Circular Date Stamp."  Either way, it's just like all sorts of names we use for things... not terribly creative, but very blunt and useful as a descriptive tool.  However, we can't keep it that easy, we must shorten it to a TLA (Three Letter Acronym) so we can confuse people who are new to the subject area!

I'm all for confusion with a dose of chaos, so CDS it is!

The other marking was applied in the same red ink at the right.  It's an oblong marking with the word "PAID."  The Lynn postmaster apparently took their job seriously when it came to letting postal workers down the line know that the 24 cents required to send a letter from the United States to the United Kingdom was considered to be covered properly by the 24 cent stamp that appears at the top right. 

Every occupation has their overachievers!  I think you'll understand why I say that as we get further into this Postal History Sunday.

The nearest exchange office was in Boston.  An exchange office was a post office that had the facilities to prepare mail to be "exchanged" with a foreign postal service.  Boston was able to exchange mail with London, England, according to the postal treaties in force between the United States and the United Kingdom in 1863.  So, not surprisingly, this marking is known as an "exchange marking."  

A US exchange marking for mail to the UK typically included 

• the name of the exchange office (Boston), 
• the date the letter was to depart (Nov 3), 
• an amount of the postage that was due to the UK (19 cents), 
• an indicator as to whether postage was paid in full or not (red color and the word paid), and 
• an indicator as to the ship that carried it (Br Pkt).  

That is one loaded marking!

But, what I hope you will observe, in case you have not already, is that the exchange office provided indicators to the foreign mail service that this letter was paid in full.  In fact, the foreign exchange office was probably MORE, not less, conversant in all of the postage rates to foreign destinations than a typical town postmaster might have been.

This last marking tells us that the letter was taken out of the mail bag at the London exchange office on November 16, 1863.  They also include the word "paid" in this exchange marking.  So, when it was eventually delivered to Mrs. Jewett at Drury Lane in London, the postal carrier would know not to ask for anything more.

There is one additional marking on the back (or verso) of this envelope that is a London post office marking.  London W.C. tells us that this went to the West Central postal district in London to be prepared for delivery at the residence on Drury Lane.  If you look at the address panel, you will see that the sender of the letter also knew this and helpfully provided "W.C." as part of the delivery address.

And now, the question...

I received an interesting inquiry from John B that read "I was surprised to see a PAID 24 handstamp from a town that was not a maritime departure point for contract mails. Are there other such towns?"

So, remember when I said I thought the postmaster at Lynn, Mass was an overachiever?  I was apparently not the only postal historian who noted that they did things different from most everyone else!

So, let me take a moment to establish a baseline for you so you can understand what we're talking about here.

Shown above is a letter that was posted in Worcester, Mass on Dec 19, 1865.  Worcester is located inland from Boston, whereas Lynn is actually northeast of Boston and is situated on the Massachusetts Bay.  Still, both are relatively close to the exchange office.

Worcester, Mass CDS (city date stamp) gives us the city and the date the item was mailed (or was processed) at the Worcester post office.  A black target was part of this marking and its purpose was to deface the postage stamp to be sure it couldn't be used a second time by persons with "nefarious intent."

Ok.  I've always wanted to include the word "nefarious" in a Postal History Sunday.  Now that I've achieved that goal, let's move on.

The markings in red are exchange office markings (Boston and London). The Worcester postal clerk apparently figured their black postmark was sufficient and they left the rest of the work to the exchange offices.  No "24 Paid" or "Paid" in an oblong shape.  No special color - just black.

Here is a letter mailed from Lowell, Mass on July 19, 1864.  Lowell is inland and to the northwest of Boston.  Once again, there are no additional markings beyond the Lowell CDS and a black marking of triangles to deface the stamp.  The Lowell postmaster left the rest of the job to the foreign mail clerks in Boston - just like the Worcester clerk.

At this point, we'll cut to the chase and simply tell you that this is the norm in the 1860s.  Unless we are looking at a foreign exchange office we do not typically see markings that illustrate the postal rate (24 cents) or declare the item "paid" like we do with the Lynn cover we started with.

An aside about marcophily

A person who was intent on studying the postmarks probably would have taken note of something with respect to the three Boston exchange markings on the covers I have shared thus far.  Actually, they might note a few things.  They might be interested in measurements (how big are these markings) among other things.  But, there is ONE difference every single person who is reading this blog should be able notice.

I'll give you a hint.  Look at the date in each of the three Boston exchange marks and I'll get back to you later!

What other towns had overachieving clerks/postmasters?

 

It just so happens that I do have another example in my own collection from another town that illustrates this same zealous approach towards marking the mail - even if the post office was not an exchange office.  

Here is a letter mailed at Providence, Rhode Island, that includes both a circular "paid" marking and a nice red "24" to go along with the 24 cent stamp at the right.  Providence typically sent their mail to the New York foreign mail exchange office - and we do see a nice red "N.York Br. Pkt Paid 19" marking down and to the left from the postage stamp.

Over the course of time, I have seen other examples with a similar set of markings from Providence on several covers.  I have also observed a combination of similar markings on letters mailed in the 1860s (and bearing a 24 cent stamp to the UK) from Lawrence and Springfield (both in Massachusetts) and Jersey City (New Jersey).

Briefly, I considered the fact that Lynn, Jersey City, and Providence could have sent their mail via boat to the exchange office to be a clue.  But, Springfield and Lawrence are both inland, which breaks the proposed pattern quickly and efficiently.

So, for the time being, until I learn more, I will stand by my assessment that some postmasters were intent on excelling at their jobs - or at least applying more postmarks on their letters.

And that's about all I have for the reasons why.

Another marking pattern

 

A few questions from Gary D about this particular cover got me started looking at a different postal marking pattern that I had internalized and not really put into words.  Gary was curious about the fancy star cancellation on the postage stamp in combination with the RED New Haven, Connecticut CDS. 

Many people who enjoy collecting stamps and postal history are attracted to some of the fancy cancellations that postal clerks used in some towns during the 1860s (and other decades).  In fact, there are whole books cataloging fancy cancellations during the mid to late 1800s.  You can read about the book by Skinner and Eno here and see how you could access the original and an updated resource.

And yes, it is thanks to people who were very interested in marcophily that such resources exist.

Getting back to the original point, I guess there was more than one way to excel at the job!  However New Haven's approach seems like a fair amount of extra work because they used two ink colors.  Red for the CDS and black for the cancellation.

This seems to be a normal pattern for New Haven when the mail was intended for a foreign destination across the Atlantic Ocean.  

image from Siegel Auction Galleries

 

Shown above is a letter that was mailed from New Haven to Shanghai, China.  The pattern is the same - a red CDS and black ink for the cancellation device.  You might notice that this time around, the star has a hole in the center.  There are a number of other examples, including this one to Prussia, that show similar black/red uses from New Haven.

 

As I stated, it seems that the New Haven CDS is red when the letter was meant to cross the Atlantic Ocean.  I have seen letters with a three cent stamp that show a black CDS  to go with the black star cancellation for destinations within the United States.  Similarly, I noted a letter to Aspinwall (Panama) where both the CDS and star cancellation were in black ink.  But, I will not make a claim that this is absolutely the case - that might be job for a marcophilest!

 

To add fuel to that particular fire, here is a letter mailed from Pawtucket, Rhode Island, in 1867.  Once again, the CDS is in red, but the cancellation marking on the stamp is in black ink. I have a suspicion that several towns followed a protocol where trans-Atlantic letters acquired a red CDS, while the cancellation marking was applied with black ink.

 

The question is this - what will I do with that suspicion?  The fields of postal history, marcophily, and philately have pages upon pages of articles and resources.  It is possible (and even likely) that others that have explored this topic already and I just have yet to discover their research and their conclusions.  So, we shall see where my own motivation ultimately takes me.

For now, we will be content that the subject area has plenty of room for continued growth and exploration.  More questions to ask.  More answers to seek.

More to learn!

 

And speaking of more to learn - did you figure out the difference between the Boston exchange markings in our first three covers? Look at the order of the month and date.  The second cover puts the day before the month, while the others put the month first.

I hope you enjoyed today's read.  Have a wonderful remainder of your day and a fine week to come.

Let There Be Lights!

In 2021, we were treated to an impromptu parade in Kekaha that left us smiling.  I'm sure part of the positive vibe that came from it was the simple fact that it WAS impromptu and it WAS for the locals in the town.  There was a good bit of joyfulness and plenty of Aloha that could be felt, even if we were NOT locals.

Since we were fortunate to be able to visit the west side of Kauai again over the holidays in 2022, we made a point to get to the official Waimea Light Parade.  For those who do not know, Waimea is the next town to the east from Kekaha.  

For the parade to happen, the road into town was closed starting at 5pm and was not going to be opened until much later that night (concerts follow the parade).  So we had to make a decision.  Do we go into town early and hope to find a parking spot - and then stay for the duration?  Or do we park outside of town and walk in?

Since we were still recovering a bit from the travel to the island of Kauai, we opted for the latter - and that's how Tammy got one of her first walks in during the trip.  

The Waimea Lights Parade is a popular local event.  People living on the West side bring their keiki (children) for the parade.  The parade emcees made it a point to remind everyone to watch their keiki when the vehicles came down the road.  Then, they also reminded us that we should watch all keiki and do something if a child is about to dash in front of a vehicle because the COMMUNITY takes responsibility to for the safety of its children.

I took specific note of the fact that treats were not thrown from parade floats into a scrum of waiting children - a practice that always bothered me because it favored those kids that were willing to push others aside to grab all they could.  Instead, treats were handed directly to the children by individuals walking alongside the floats.  

It was friendlier.  It was kinder.  It meant something more.  And, I liked it.

The town businesses and the park were also lit up.  There were some food vendors as well.  And, of course, there was a stage set up for the music.  The layout clearly favored those who were familiar with the town and the event itself.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with that at all.  It was refreshing to be allowed to participate in this local festival that was not catering to tourists.

It felt very much like many of the town festivals we celebrate in Iowa during the summer months.  If maybe a bit more... somehow.  

Many of the "floats" were service vehicles or work vehicles that had lights strung all around them.  There were boats on trailers, backhoes on trailers, and, of course, trailers that had a specifically designed float.  

The high school marching band performed and the state champion football team was loudly cheered.  There were people popping wheelies on bicycles that had lights on their tires.  There was a group of Volkswagon Beetles and Vans that were lit up and cruising along.  A couple of floats used a combination smoke or mist machine with a bubble machine to good effect with colored lights shining through them.

We did miss seeing the septic pumping truck that ran the streets of Kekaha last year.  Maybe they didn't enter the parade this time around?  Or maybe there is a counter-culture parade that just lights up their vehicles and drive around when they want to.  If anyone would do it, it would be the people charged with having to pump out septic systems, wouldn't it?  A job that is really necessary, but so few are willing to do it.  It takes a special person and I suspect they develop a special sense of humor.

As with all things, there were a couple of floats that were a bit annoying for various reasons.  But, it takes a variety of people to make a community.  Perhaps there were many who appreciated them even when we did not?  It doesn't matter in the end, because the feeling of the whole was positive.

And we enjoyed seeing it.

To the community on the West Side - Mahalo!

We appreciated the chance to celebrate with you.

Sunrise, Sunset

The sun comes up in the morning and it goes down at night.  Or, if you prefer, the good Earth spins on its axis, rolling so that our part of the world sees the sun each day and the absence of sun each night.

In the morning, as the sun rises, we have the opportunity to wake up to something special and every evening there is a chance to reflect on a day well-lived as the sun sets. 

Not every day has a start that brings grand anticipation, nor is every night begun with a glorious conclusion to the day that has been.  This is true for sunrise and sunset, just as it is for each day we live our lives.  Sometimes, we just aren't ready for what is coming our way.  The sun pops up from behind the trees or the buildings we have in our lives and we barely notice.   

There are days when we're just as happy to see the sun setting and the only glory we get from it is the fact that this day, at least, is no longer a problem for us to solve.  Though, it may feel like the problems of that particular day will live on.

There are days when the clouds lay thick and heavy over our world and we wonder if the sun is even there.  Then, there are days like this, where the clouds only accentuate the beauty of the day to come - or the day that was.

On those days when the sun is hidden from us, we can look in our memories for those days when it wasn't.  Or, we can anticipate its reappearance - facing ourselves west or east, whichever is appropriate, to catch a glimpse of fire and gold. 

Some days begin more subtly, softly emerging and barely announcing their arrival to the rest of us.  If we are alert, we can see them.  If we pay attention, we just might find as much beauty in their muted colors as we do on those days when they loudly proclaim the changing of the guard from day to night or night to day.

There are times when a sunrise or sunset doesn't beg for our attention.  Instead, they ask us to pay attention to blue skies and white clouds.  Sometimes, they just want you to see the flowers in a different light.  

Maybe.  Just maybe, once you've seen what it is you should see, you can then be dazzled by the light show on the horizon.  Or is it possible you've seen as much as you needed to fill your cup?

Then, there are those days that start or conclude with a fanfare.  These mornings and evenings loudly proclaim that you must stop what you are doing.

And marvel at what you are witnessing.

What artist could do any better than this?  Or maybe we aren't worried about comparisons here.  Just stand, or sit, and enjoy.

Last, but certainly not least, there are those rare transitions from one time of day to the next that call for more than your attention.  They call for you to do something to remember them.  Take a picture with your mind.  Take a picture with your camera.  Sketch it.  Write music to it.  Hum your own tune that no one else will hear.  Or give thanks.

We have opportunities to cultivate awe and wonder in our lives each time the sun rises and the sun sets.  Take advantage of them when you can.  And imprint them into your soul as a reminder of beauty and joy.