Too Late - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday.  This is where the farmer (Rob) gets to share a hobby he enjoys with you.  It doesn't matter if you collect stamps or postal history or if you just like to learn a new thing or two, all are welcome here.

Now, let's take our troubles and worries and crumple them up into as tight a ball as you can manage.  Give that ball to your cat, or your dog... or your goldfish.  The cat will probably end up batting them under the refrigerator, the dog will chew them up so you won't recognize them anymore, and the goldfish...  well, it probably won't do much, but once you soak your troubles in fishtank water for a few hours, they don't look as impressive as they once did.  Don't have a pet?  Well, we are crumpling up virtual pieces of paper, so give them to your virtual pet - maybe an elephant, if you'd like.

Let's see what new things we can learn this week!

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One thing that I think most of us can relate to is the way time can get away from us all.  And the other thing is how valuable time can be to us.  Postal services around the world, for as long as they have been in operation have been intensely aware of both of these things.  They know that we will wait until the last minute to get that envelope full of important, time-sensitive materials (like maybe - a tax return?) to the post office to be mailed.  They also know that their customers pay attention to how long things take to get from here to there!

How have postal services defended themselves when their customers push that time envelope and still expect the miracle of quick delivery to the destination?  I thought it might be fun to look at mail in the 1800s and see how it was handled then.

I'm sorry, but we didn't get this letter in time

During the mid-1850s, speedy and affordable mail services were desired, and even demanded, by the business communities who relied on the post to execute their business.  They were swift to point out failures to deliver in a timely fashion, which encouraged post offices to mark letters and mail that were received after the mails closed.  It was a simple line of defense."Hey!  The people who sent this to you messed up, so talk to them if you got it later than you wanted!"

 

The French were proud of their rail system and the 'star' configuration that set Paris at its center.  They utilized mail processing cars on these trains and there were complex schedules for mail transit using these rail lines.  

Often, rather than going overland via a shorter distance, mail would travel to Paris on one line of the 'star' and then go outward towards its destination from Paris.  This typically resulted in a faster delivery than a direct coach service might have provided.

The reliance on speedy railway services raised expectations for timely delivery of the mail, which means a May 18 postmark at Cambrai in France was typically expected to arrive on May 19 for delivery at Tournay, Belgium.  And while we are at it, Belgium's rail system actually advanced more quickly than France's.  So, it is possible they were even more likely to expect rapid mail transit than the French.

So, here I am looking at a folded letter that was postmarked on May 18, 1860.  It is properly prepaid with a 40 centime French postage stamp.  The red box with the "PD" marking shows that the postage was recognized as paid.  And then there's that additional marking in black ink:

The words "après le départ" translate to "after the departure."  Post offices had to set a cut-off time after which items could no longer be accepted for that day's scheduled conveyance.  Trains, in particular, had a schedule to keep and the mailbag had to be ready to go and be on time.

The individual who trotted in with this piece of mail was probably breathing heavily and might have even tried to convince the postal clerk that there must be some way to get it on that train.  But, alas!  They were too late, and the postal clerk made absolutely certain to document that fact by putting this marking boldly in the center of the address panel, for all to see.
 

Arrival at Tournay two days after mailing.

The French postal service was sensitive about their reputation for timely mail service, so they applied the "Apres Le Depart" marking to any item that was received after the scheduled close of the mail.  It is important to recognize that the closing of the mail for a particular departure does not imply that the post office itself was closed for business.  In fact, some post offices had multiple mail closing times to reflect mail bound for different directions or conveyance methods.... or a different train on the schedule.

a sample train schedule from Basel (Switzerland) to Strasbourg (France)

I suppose two days for the delivery of a letter may not seem all that terrible in the grand scheme of things.  But, we need to remember that the post was the primary method of communication between businesses and time... as some have said in business... is money.

The Dutch wanted timely mail too...

"Na posttijd" is translated literally as "after post time," which clearly fits the same purpose as the French marking shown above. This folded letter was mailed in Wageningen on September 6, 1858.

Wageningen and Arnhem were both located on an operating rail line at the time of the posting of this letter in 1858.  So, it seems that it is likely the na posttijd marking was an indicator that the mail train was missed.  Perhaps no such marking was used for coach or other service?

However, 20 km is equivalent to 4 Hollands Mijls, and each mijl was equivalent to roughly an hour long walk.  Technically, any service could have arrived at the destination in one day as long as the letter was received at the post office prior to the carrier's departure!  Sadly, I suspect no one was willing to walk this item to Arnhem, so it waited for the mail train that came through the next day and the letter arrived in Arnhem on September 7.

You might notice that this letter bears no postage stamps, something that is uncommon for items in my collection.  However, it was not at all uncommon in the 1850's for items to be mailed unpaid with the intent that the recipient pay the postage in order to take possession of the letter.  The large, penned "5" on the front of this letter indicated that the 5 Dutch cents of postage were due on delivery from the recipient.

Maybe it wasn't the sender's fault...

In 1855, Milan was part of Lombardy, which was administered by Austria.  Parma was a duchy ruled by a member of the Bourbon line, but had as recently as 1847 been ruled by a Habsburg.

Wait!  What's this Habsburg/Bourbon stuff?

If you are like me, I have only so much brainspace.  And references to the Bourbons and the Habsburgs don't mean much to me without a quick reminder - so maybe the same holds true for you?  The Bourbons have a French origin and the Bourbons in Parma were Spanish.  The Habsburgs, on the other hand, were Austrian.

Remember the Holy Roman Empire? And, yes, I've heard the joke that the Holy Roman Empire was none of these.  Thank you Voltaire. 

It is this Austrian connection that explains Parma's participation in a postal agreement (Austro-Italian League) that maintained favorable rates for mail between its members.  Members included Austria, the Kindgom of Lombardy & Venetia, Parma, Modena, Tuscany, and the Papal States.  

The letter below was sent from Milan (Lombardy) to Parma, which was both the name of the primary city and the duchy.  Mail between them could be prepaid at rates that were roughly equivalent to Austria's internal postage because they were part of this postal league.

Rail service was still extremely limited in the Italian states because Austria wanted to suppress development of anything that might support a growing sentiment for the unification of Italy.  It would not be until 1859 that the Milan-Bologna rail line, which ran through Parma and Modena, would be fully placed into service.  

This letter was mailed in 1855.  Perhaps there was a short railway spur in Milan that carried this item towards its destination.  But, it probably was carried in a mail coach most of the way to Parma.

Whether this folded letter was put on a train or not, there is a marking in Italian that reads "dopo la partenza" or "after departure."

There is a September 2 postmark in Milan followed by an arrival in Parma on September 4 for a 120 km trip - mostly by coach.  With an average speed of 8 km per hour, it would take 15 hours of continuous travel, but the dedicated mail coaches probably traveled faster than this. So, it is possible a person in Parma might expect to receive a letter from Milan in a single day.

So - perhaps there was another reason this letter was delayed?

There are two slits in this folded letter that are indicators that the item was disinfected at some point on its journey.

The third cholera pandemic had been particularly deadly in 1854 and reached places in Italy where it had not previously been found in the following year (see p 30 of the monograph linked here).  It was at this time that various individuals were discovering that contaminated water was the source for most outbreaks.  But, even so, disinfection of the mail continued, if only to show the public that something was being done to control the disease.

In fact, you can see that I featured this same cover in this Postal History Sunday that talked about treatments of the mail in attempts to halt disease.

So...it is possible the reason for the dopo la partenza marking had nothing to do with the late arrival of the sender at the post office and everything to do with the disinfection process itself.

Or maybe, we just missed the boat...

The letter below was mail in February of 1858 from Triest to Pola.  There was no active rail line between these two cities on the Istrian peninsula at that time and the entire area used Austria's postal services.

Nach Abgang Der Post

Triest was a major port city on the Adriatic Sea and there were significant business concerns that utilized mail services regularly in that community.  Pola, at the time this letter was written, was also a port city on the Adriatic*.    Sadly, the backstamp is not clear enough to determine the arrival date with certainty, though it looks like February 9 (after a Feb 6 sending date).   

Another postal service and another language.  This time, our marking on the letter is in German and it reads "nach abgang der post" which means "after the post has left."

It does not seem possible that this marking had anything to do with a train since I cannot find any record of railways there until decades later.  Of course, it is always possible that a mailcoach was missed, but I think that this letter may have missed the boat!

Both cities were reasonably significant ports on the Adriatic Sea and it seems reasonable to expect coastal steamers to carry mail between them.  It is also reasonable to expect that there were also mail coach routes.  So, I can't say for sure whether this missed the next scheduled boat or the next scheduled mail coach.  But, one thing is for sure - it missed something! 

*Pola is now a part of Croatia and is known as Pula.  The distance, via ground routes, is approximately 140 km between Trieste and Pola.

It's nice that you wanted to catch the Asia, but....

Persons who availed themselves of trans-Atlantic mail services in the 1860s were often well-versed in the comings and goings of the mail packets (ships) and would often write a directive on the envelope or wrapper for a particular ship sailing.  On the bottom left of the envelope shown below we see the words "p(er) Cunard Steamer Asia from Boston April 25."  The docketing at the left indicates that the contents were datelined April 24, 1866 but, sadly, the contents are no longer with the envelope.

Generally speaking, the postal clerks at exchange offices (those post offices that handled mail to and from countries outside the United States) were charged with getting the mail to the destination via the fastest available route.  So, the docket indicating which ship this item should sail on was not as necessary as it might have been in prior decades. Still the sender of this piece of mail found it necessary to try to show that an April 25 sailing departure was expected.  

Is it possible they put it there in an attempt to impress upon the recipient that if it did not go that way, the postal service might be to blame for any delay?

It was well known that Cunard Line sailings left on Wednesdays, alternating between Boston and New York.  The next available sailings (by other lines) were on Saturdays.  This Wednesday sailing was in Boston, but the letter was mailed in New York, which means the letter probably had to be in the New York exchange office on Tuesday (Apr 24) to reach the Wednesday ship departure in Boston*.  But, what happens when you get to the post office too late and the mailbags intended for the Cunard Line's Asia have been closed and are no longer available to stuff one more letter into them?  

Well, the postal clerk takes note of your intent for a April 25 departure by putting a marking that reads "Too Late" on the front of your piece of mail.  Then, he strikes the cover with a red New York marking with the date of the NEXT available sailing (April 28), providing an explanation to the recipient that it was NOT their fault that this item arrived a few days later. 

I wonder if the clerk would have bothered with the "Too Late" marking if the sender had not tried to place an intended departure date on the cover?  My guess is that they would not have done so.

*The Appletons' United States Postal Guide gives some of the postal schedules for some of the larger cities including New York and Boston.  However, it only provides a look at the Boston foreign mails and no mention is made of the New York foreign mails.  In Boston, letters destined for a New York sailing were to be posted no later than 7 pm the previous day.

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Well, once again, you have frittered away a chunk of time and politely listened (or read) while I shared something I enjoy.  I hope you found parts and pieces of it interesting and perhaps you learned something new.  I hope you join me next week for a new Postal History Sunday.

Hey!  Where did that wadded up ball of troubles go?  Oh, the elephant took it?  Ok, that's fine with me.

A Couple of Resources

There are numerous philatelic and postal history resources out in the world that have helped me get a foothold on some of the things I share here.  Here are two that had some influence on this week's Postal History Sunday.

"Appletons' United States Postal Guide - 1863," D. Appleton & Co, reprint by J. Lee

Lesgor, R, Minnigerode, M & Stone, R.G., "The Cancellations on French Stamps of the Classic Issues: 1849-1876," Nassau Stamp Company, 1948

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Thank you for joining me today!  Have a fine remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.

Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

Not That Simple

We are drawn to the simple answers for a very specific reason, I suspect.  

Because - once we accept a simple answer, we can stop thinking.  And, thinking is a dangerous pastime!

Unfortunately, accepting a simple answer and putting a halt on your thinking is, in my opinion, even worse.

I was actually beginning to think that I could stop this blog post right there.  Point made.  Nice and simple.  Don't accept the simple answer or the simple opinion at face value and work a lot harder at critical thinking and putting what you hear under the microscope.  It doesn't matter the topic.  It doesn't matter if it already matches something you happen to agree with or believe.  It doesn't matter if you're inclined to disagree.  In fact, it doesn't even matter if you think you have covered some of this territory before.

Think.  Question.  Ask.  Accept that very little in this world is easy and most everything is complex.

And it can be stinkin' hard to do.

So, do it anyway.

I Hate Beets

I am going to bet you all thought I was going to go off on some highly philosophical or current event tangent after all of that.  You weren't?  Oh.  Now I am not sure you're telling the truth, but that doesn't really matter.  What matters (to me) is the point that I am trying to make.

We like to take simple either/or decisions and make them a part of our identity.  Oh... oops.  That is kind of philosophical.

So, about those beets...

Beets are one of those vegetables that we have identified as being one of the most polarizing among the persons who have patronized our farm over the years.  Some people just LOVE their beets and others look at us like we are offering to poison them as a reward for them giving us money.  Kale and eggplant rank right up there with beets - but we're not talking about them now, are we?

I was once a hater of beets.  Beets!?  NO thank you!!  I did not even want to look at them.

Then, I started farming - and some people wanted beets with their CSA farm shares.

Well, I guess I can grow them.

And, harvest them....

And, clean them....

And, maybe it would be cool to try some different varieties...

And then people asked how they tasted.  Uh oh.

The point is this.  There are many, many different varieties of beets.  There are golden beets, striped beets, red beets, white beets, beets for beet greens, cylindrical beets, round beets, etc etc.  Beets have a range of tastes and textures.  Yes - they are all still beets - so they do have similarities.  But, there really is quite a diverse range for different palates.

And, you can prepare beets so many ways.  You can boil them, grill them, roast them and pickle them.  You can mix them with other ingredients or you can just put a little butter on them.  You can cook them so they are really soft or make it so they have a little crunch.  Once again - still beets.  Once again - a surprisingly wide range of tastes and textures for different palates.

I Like Beets Most of the Time

It turns out, I like beets most of the time.  I prefer the golden beets over the other types.  I like them roasted or steamed and a little real butter melting on top.  But, I've found that I'm just fine if red beets are prepared in these fashions.  In fact, I'll tolerate cooked beets in most forms now.  But, there are still times I do not like them.

This did not happen overnight.  First, I had to be willing to learn more about beets.  Then, it took a while to explore the world of beets and learn about it in my own time.

After that, it took me awhile to get over my own, self-applied label that I am a person who 'doesn't like beets.'  I had to admit that I might be wrong and that this label doesn't apply to me.  I even had to face up to the fact that some folks who know that I am a self-described 'beet hater' were surely either going to be disappointed in me or were going to take an inordinate amount of glee in my 'conversion.'  

In the end, I discovered that the responses of others who felt I had to either love beets or hate them did not matter - because they haven't taken the time to know beets like I have.

Pick One Thing - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to this week's edition of Postal History Sunday.  Grab yourself a snack and a beverage of your choice, put on the fuzzy slippers and banish your troubles to the cellar for a little bit.  If you leave them down there long enough, they might be a bit paler and less daunting when you see them next time.

Meanwhile, I'm going to explore a few postal history items this week and we'll see if we can learn something new.

This week, I thought I would have a little fun by selecting a few items that I do not think I have shared in a Postal History Sunday blog before.  The idea is for me to find some interesting fact or feature for each item I share - without any particular theme in mind.  If the plans fails to make any sense, you can just allow yourself to be amused while I go about whatever it is I am going to do today!

Armistice at Villafranca

Sometimes knowing a little bit of history can give you an interesting angle for a story around an old piece of mail.  This folded business letter was mailed from the port of Triest, which was part of Austria at the time, to Villafranca di Verona, in the Kingdom of Venetia.*  The Triest postmark is September 6 and the letter dateline tells us that it was mailed in 1859.

Because the Kingdom of Venetia was also under Austrian control at the time, the postage amount was based on the internal Austrian postage rates.  Austria's internal rates were determined by a combination of distance and weight.  This letter traveled over 150 km, so it qualified for the longest distance rate of 15 kreuzer per loth (Austrian weight unit).  And, sure enough, there are 15 kreuzers worth of postage stamps on this letter.

Just two months prior to the mailing of this letter, on July 11, 1859, French Emperor Napoleon III and Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria signed an armistice that ended a war between Austria and allied France and Sardinia/Piedmont.  Part of the motivation for the peace agreement were the grievous losses to both sides at the Battle of Solferino, just 25 km to the West.  It's an interesting nuance that Piedmont/Sardinia was not present at the table for these negotiations.

Of particular interest to me is that this typical business letter from someone in Triest to someone in Villafranca illustrates that, despite the momentous events going on there, life continued and businesses continued to execute transactions - stubbornly behaving as they always had and, perhaps, pretending that business as usual would remain business as usual. 

* Villafranca was established in 1185 when the Council of Rectors in Verona decided to establish this settlement on its border with Mantua (Mantova), as this was a strategic location.  They established the town as a tax-free settlement, hence the name villa franca.  At a guess, they used the tax free status to encourage people to settle there and help establish the town.

And the French get Savoy

And here is what happens when you pick one thing to talk about for one cover, you end up remembering a related thing on another item and you can't help yourself - you've got to bring it up.

Shown above is a folded letter - one that is full of advice for a, probably, younger protege.  This cover was mailed from St. Michel in the Duchy of Savoy to Troyes, in France.  The cost for a letter between these two entities was 60 centesimi and the postage stamps on the cover add up to precisely that amount.

The mailing date of January 23, 1860 is very interesting to me because not long after this letter was mailed, St Michel, and all of Savoy (Savoie), would be transferred to France from Sardinia.

If you will recall, France and Sardinia/Piedmont were allies against Austria.  In fact, Napoleon III and the Count of Cavour (Piedmont/Sardinia) met in secret to devise a plant to provoke Austria.  If they could get Austria to attack, then France would be "obligated" to join Sardinian forces due to treaty stipulations.  In other words, they wanted an excuse to declare war.

Essentially, the cost to Piedmont/Sardinia was to cede the Duchy of Savoy and the County of Nice to France while they would absorb conquered territory (ideally all of the Kingdoms of Lombardy and Venetia).  Even as this letter was traveling through the post, negotiations for the Treaty of Turin (signed March 24) were being finalized.  And, to make it official, a plebiscite (or vote) was taken in April that asked the question whether the people wanted Savoy to be part of France.  The results were overwhelmingly in favor of that move - though that story is certainly more complex than that and worthy of more words than I will give here today.

After working to translate the contents of this letter, I can report that there appears to be no reference to these momentous events.  The concern was to share life's lessons - and among them must have been "don't pay any attention to the machinations of the powerful, for they have little to do with you."  That's the only explanation I have for the seeming lack of awareness of the coming change of "management."

Double or nothing

Then, suddenly, I found myself looking at an envelope that I would call a very typical double rate cover for a letter that was internal to the United States in the mid-1860s.  Each rate cost 3 cents and there are two 3-cent stamps here to pay the double weight letter postage. 

This particular letter did not have terribly far to go, starting in Cincinnati and ending in Cleveland.  That illustrates an interesting feature of many mail systems in the 1850s and 1860s, postage costs were calculated by weight unit, but the distance often played no role.  This was a significant change from prior decades, where distance was often a key component for determining cost.

If this person wanted to send a double weight letter from Cincinnati to Florida, or Cincinnati to Texas, the cost would be the same as it was to send it to Cleveland.  But, in the early 1860s, the postage rate to destinations on the other side of the Rocky Mountains cost a whole lot more.

And here is an example to make the point for me.  This letter was mailed from San Francisco in October of 1862 to New Hampshire.  The rate was 10 cents per 1/2 ounce (instead of 3 cents), so a double weight letter would cost 20 cents.  

Sure enough, this letter has two 10-cent stamps paying that postage.  This letter cost more than three times as much to mail as the previous letter, and part of the reason for it is made clear at the bottom left.  The docket there reads "per steamer."  

While there were overland routes to California, these postage rates were established at a time when mail typically went via steamship to Panama, where it would cross the Isthmus and then take another steamship to the opposite coast.  There wasn't much competition to carry the mail, so the price was relatively high.  As a result, the postage costs needed to be higher to cover the expense.

This was already changing in the late 1850s, but it would take a while for postage rates to adjust to the new reality.  In July of 1863, the rate would be 3 cents for any destination in the U.S, including mail between the coasts.

And here is another 1862 letter from San Francisco to the East Coast (Brooklyn).  This time, there is ten cents of postage on the cover, paying the cost to mail a simple letter (no more than 1/2 ounce) to a destination on the other side of the Rockies.  Unfortunately, this envelope and its contents must have weighed a bit too much.  As a result, the number "10" was hand-stamped on the cover and the word "Due" followed. 

In other words, this is another example of a double-weight (or double-rate) cover.  The sender just failed to provide the full postage to pay for it.

One paid marking deserves another

Shown above is a letter mailed from the Netherlands in 1859 to Belgium.  Affixed are postage stamps totaling 20 Dutch cents, which was sufficient to mail this letter.  But, what caught my eye this time was the fact that this envelope has a "P.D." marking (payee a destination) and a "Franco" marking as part of the device that defaced (or canceled) the postage stamps.  

The French, Belgians, Swiss and Italians seemed to prefer a "P.D." marking to alert postal clerks in other countries that they believed the postage to be properly prepaid.  On the other hand, the German States and the Netherlands preferred "Franco."  (franked or, essentially, paid)

I admit that I am not the foremost expert in this area, but usually a "P.D." marking on an item coming into Holland would be sufficient and there wouldn't typically be a need for a "Franco" marking as well.  Similarly, the Belgians seemed as if they were fine accepting a "Franco" marking to indicate prepayment if it were coming from a German or Dutch origin.

So, why both this time around?  I have some thoughts on the matter, but if you have a theory - feel free to share.

In my opinion, the Dutch probably figured the "Franco" that was part of the stamp cancellation was sufficient to tell the Belgians this was properly paid.  However, the Belgians might not have seen it (can you see it?).  So, it is possible they re-weighed the letter and did their own calculations, finding it was properly paid.  At that point, they marked the letter with "P.D." so the carrier would know they didn't need to collect any money from the recipient.

The irony, of course, is that the P.D. marking is also a bit weak.  But I think it got the point across.

Isthmian Line

This envelope, mailed in 1936, was sent to a Mr. Lincoln V. Meeker.  The address directs the letter to the ship at Port of Spain, Trinidad.  However, when delivery was attempted, it was found that Mr. Meeker had "left the ship" and apparently no forwarding address was known.  As a result, the letter was returned to Albany, New York.  

The Isthmian Line was a merchant marine line, which means they were not primarily in the business of taking travelers around the world.  That tells me that Mr. Meeker may well have been a crew member or somehow employed on the ship.  Even if he was not, I smell a story here.

SS Steel Navigator from US Navy Memorial site viewed 9/9/23

The easy part is learning about the demise of the SS Steel Navigator.  It was torpedoed in the Atlantic Ocean in 1942.  Only 16 of the 52 crew members survived.  The ship was hauling, of all things, sand ballast - a mix of sand and gravel or small stones.  The cargo had shifted in a storm, causing the boat to list and fall behind its convoy.

Maybe I'll find more information regarding Mr. Meeker and his disappearance from the SS Steel Navigator in 1936.  If I do, it might lead to a future Postal History Sunday.

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Thank you for joining me today!  Have a fine remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.

Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

Good Omen?

The time had come once again.  I had to go and get my insides scanned to look for any hint of the cancer that resulted in the removal of my left kidney two and a half years ago.  

So, I took the drive down to Waterloo and went through the process on Tuesday this past week.  It could be so easy to be grumpy and short because, frankly, this wasn't something I WANTED to do.  In fact, it really is something I would rather not be spending my time on.  Who would?  

But, I always remind myself that the people at the front desk who take my name, confirm my address and take photocopies of my identification, are simply doing the job they have been hired to do.  These people, the nurses, and the technicians see person after person.  Nearly every one of these people they see might rather be somewhere else than dealing with whatever it is that makes it necessary for them to visit this medical facility.

So, I put on my best self, even if I am not feeling it at the moment.  And, typically, the interaction is pleasant - because that is part of the job these people do that must certainly be difficult to fulfill at times.

I had to return on Friday to hear the verdict.  Would there be evidence of cancer or not?  Would there be a short, pleasant conversation and a quick discussion about the next time I would be scanned in the "distant future?"  Or would there be a longer, less pleasant conversation?

My lovely bride took some time off from her teaching to accompany me into the building, and after we sat down, I noticed movement in the entry way.  I pointed it out to Tammy and we both recognized the praying mantis.  After a quick discussion, I went and got the mantis and took him outside, placing him on a tree nearby.

It even let me take a couple of quick photos with the phone.

There are two types of praying mantids (mantids is the plural form of mantis) in Iowa.  Both prefer the southern part of the state.  This would be a Chinese Praying Mantis, which were introduced to the United States in the 1800s.  They are larger than the Carolina Mantis, with a body size that can reach 4+ inches.  

This particular Chinese Praying Mantis was on the upper end of their size range and the legs and wings made it appear even larger.  The legs are serrated and very strong and I was a bit surprised by how it could lift itself up with only 1 leg have clear purchase to start a climb.

Praying mantids are amazing predators, but they are very opportunistic and they do not discriminate.  They're a bit like dragonflies, they'll eat what they can catch.  In fact, a praying mantis youngster may well eat some of its siblings.  They'll eat pest insects and they'll eat beneficial insects.  So, for those who might feel like adding Praying Mantids to their gardens for pest control, they might find the end result is not quite the perfect solution they were hoping for.

Still, the presence of a larger insect predator is exciting and interesting.  And I certainly would not find their presence on our farm to be a bad thing.

And as far as Friday was concerned, I chose to see this encounter as a good omen.  And it was.  We got the all clear.  Of course, we get to go through it all again next October - our new "distant future."  But, for now, it's all good.

And I got to say hello to a Praying Mantis.

Over-hyped, Over-used, and Over It

If I told you that you did something well, how would you feel?

What if I told you that you had actually done exceptionally well?

Or maybe, what if I said your work just "blew me away!?"  Would you believe me?  Would it make you feel good?  I certainly hope so, because if I have uttered these words and directed them to you, then I certainly believed them and I would hope you do too.

But what happens when we resort to ultimate praise for practically anything?  Do those positive words mean what they think they mean?  Do they have the same impact?

It feels like many people have decided the extremes have become the norm now.  A person does something for the first time ever and people say the results were "just amazing," "couldn't have done any better," or "literally fantastic!"

It doesn't leave much room for anything more does it?  Where's the encouragement for growth and future achievement?  Is it even possible for the person receiving these comments to prepare for the possibility of constructive criticism?  Or will the likelihood that the outsized dreams they have begun to cook up after high praise are going to die on the vine when someone finally gives some honest (and maybe negative) feedback along the way?

This is why I cringe when someone tells me that something I have done is "perfect."  Either I am really, REALLY bad at being me or the perfection I have been striving for my entire life isn't as hard as I think it is to achieve.  

Hey, I know how far away from perfect I am.  And if you're going to praise my effort and have it mean anything, please make it real.

People also have a tendency to give negative criticism far more weight than it deserves.  Our criticisms must always be scathing and relentless.  And, they must make it sound as if this is the FINAL WORD.

"That was the worst such and such I have ever seen."

"This just destroys the position that these other people hold.

etcetera etcetera... blah blah blah.

Our desire to create the ultimate put-down or take-down leaves us, and everyone else, with no opportunities for discussion.  No chance to reach a better understanding.  No real incentive to learn more and improve ourselves.  We're making it clear that there is no redeeming qualities and it's time to move on - and find something or someone we like and agree with so we can be in awe of that "perfection" instead.

Once again, I cringe when this happens.  After all, while I am far from perfect, I have honed a few skills and acquired some knowledge about a number of things.  I believe I have shown some ability to learn and adapt.  I like to think that I have some empathy and a wee bit of integrity too.

But, when you tell me that something I have said, something I have done or something I identify with is abhorrent and no worthwhile creature in the universe possibly believes that or does things that way, I am left either feeling like I must oppose you, or I must cease being who I am.

And I'm not sure either of those options is a good idea.

If you're wondering what I think, you've come to the right place.  After all, it is my blog and I guess it makes sense that there will be a few of my thoughts here.  

I believe that truly heartfelt praise comes with carefully considered words.  Don't just reach onto the shelf and grab the closest superlative.  Give something real.  Give something concrete.  Give something that appreciates effort while also helping the person target an area for future growth and improvement.  Give in a way that doesn't try to make that person into your clone.  Instead, give so what you say and do encourages them to be their best self.

Similarly, honest and beneficial criticism and dissent also come with carefully considered words and actions.  We aren't playing a game to see who gets the most points for cutting remarks, most dramatic actions, or the most empty applause for efforts at stealing the show.

Or are we?

If we are, I am not playing.  Fair warning.

Solo Flight (Float)

Tammy has been dabbling with the idea of kayaking this year.  Some of the motivation for it might be because walking and hiking are less friendly to her than they once were.  Also, being a child of Minnesota, there were many more opportunities to spend time around water that might be idea for floating around in it.  And, it's always good to keep learning new things.

And yes, water is a good place to experience awe and wonder - both of which encourage you to exercise your gratitude muscles.

Tammy has been on a few trips where others hosted/organized the float so she could get a little support.  Last week, we threw the kayak into the back of the truck in the evening and drove up to Fredrika so she could try a solo float.

Some of you might be wondering why I am not also kayaking at the same time.  I'll answer by simply saying I am not as fond of being in or on water as many people.  I like being near water, that's fine.  So, I meandered around the park area and then found a nice place to sit while she paddled.

Like most rivers in Iowa right now, the Wapsipinicon is pretty low.  There is still enough depth for a kayak.  But, then again, kayaks don't need much water to clear the bottom.  In some ways, it was perfect for someone who is still getting used to the kayak to learn the craft.  The current is easy and the snags and sandbars are quite visible.

The drought conditions have also resulted in fewer mosquitos and other biting insects that can turn a calm evening into a slap fest.  That meant I was able to do things like sit and watch the light work its way into a position where it would reflect off the water.  Or I could watch some birds in a nearby tree.

Or find myself bemused by a leaf floating on the water until rushed down the damn to the pools below.

As the sun started to sink to the horizon, I noticed how some of the trees and bushes around me became silhouettes.  This is where I once again extol the virtues of digital cameras.  They encourage me to just try different things and see what I get.

This time, I focused on the corpse of a tree that looks like it lost some larger branches at one point in time and then added some new growth, but sideways.  Eventually, the tree had no more energy to send out new shoots and we are left with the skeleton of a riverside sentinel.

Soon after considering this tree, I noticed Tammy heading back down the river to the boat ramp.  It was time to assist with reloading the kayak into the truck and head home to do the chores.  It was also time to celebrate a successful solo float.

Well done, my friend!

Moonshot

The Blue Moon loomed over the horizon as I was completing the evening chores last week and I thought to myself how sad it was that I didn't have the camera with me.  I noticed that Tammy was trying to take pictures or video with her phone and guessed I could either do the same or take the time to get things from her phone to my computer.

Then I came to a realization that I did not have to stay inside once the chores were done.  And, for that matter, I could finish some of the chores by moonlight.  So I trotted inside and grabbed the camera.

This has nothing to do with my prowess (or lack thereof) when it comes to night photography.  Those skills don't actually exist for me because I have only recently found the settings on the camera to allow me to even try.  

Sure, there was some "beginner's luck" when I first received the camera with a couple of photos.  Otherwise, I don't often think about the camera in the early morning or late evening unless there is a sunrise or sunset that really grabs my attention - and I know how to take those shots so there isn't much thought beyond trying to frame the picture.  

Hey, if you farm - even if it is on a smaller scale than it used to be - the beginning and end of the day is often full up.  My mind is often on the completion of tasks and plans for other tasks for later in the day or to do the following day.  And, my brain is often less than ready to try to figure out some setting or function on a camera.

I was captivated most by the juxtaposition of sunflowers in the moonlight.  The first photo you see at the top was taken outside by the sunflowers.  You can see moonlight shining through, and off of, the sunflowers themselves.  A more skilled photographer with a better camera might have come up with something captivating with this set up.  I merely got enough to remind me of how magical that moment was when I recognized this was a moment when the moon and the sun(flowers) met for a brief time.

The last photo was taken from inside of Valhalla, one of our high tunnels.  The plastic distorted the moonlight but was strong enough to show the shadows of a couple of sunflowers as well.  This picture is different, but I like the feel of it.  I don't care if it is sharp because it was the texture and the light vs dark I wanted to capture.

So, while other folks have shared nice, crisp photos of the moon, I offer up some impressionistic versions.  I like both, of course.  Maybe with some work, I can accomplish both.  But for now, I kind of like how these turned out.

Still, the real triumph for me is that I reminded myself to take time for moments of gratitude, awe and wonder.  The changing of the day is frequently one of the best times to experience these things because there are so many dramatic moments.  Sunlight dancing on the clouds.  Mist rising over the fields.  Lightning in the distance.

But maybe this is a good time simply because it IS a time when I am outside EVERY DAY.  Even if the purpose is to do farm chores that I just want done, it is important that I also give myself permission to see, hear and feel the world around me.

Have a good remainder of your day.  And don't forget to give yourself an opportunity today to experience gratitude, awe and wonder.

Allies and Adversaries

The world of the Genuine Faux Farm has a wide range of  organisms that interact with each other and with the farm on a regular basis.  Some of these critters are invited.  Others interpret some of our actions as invitations.  But most are simply going about living their lives and probably try to ignore the fact that Tammy and I are here and we are still trying to do some farming on the land we steward.

Murphy, the kitten, now catten, was not invited to the farm.  And yet, we consider Murphy to be pretty much one of our welcomed allies.  She keeps us company when we walk the rounds to do the chores.  She knows how to be cute and will play with us every so often.  She will hunt and catch some unwanted rodents.  She helps with tray seeding....

Ok.  Maybe not that last one.  

But then, she also catches and kills young songbirds that have not yet learned to be wary of felines on the farm.  She annoys the other cats (the Inspector and Soup). She likes to try and run past us to get into the house and she isn't always to get out of the way when she is in the way.

An ally, yes.  But one that can sometimes be adversarial to our preferences by her very nature.

We count Barn Swallows among our allies on the farm.  They keep down some of the flying insects that can make being outside difficult for us.  They put on amazing shows of flight gymnastics and they often sit on the power line and chatter to us about their days, the eggs in their nests and anything else that comes to mind.

On the other hand, they love to put their nests in our buildings so that they are over something we don't want them to be over.  For those who do not understand, let me just remind you that when birds poop, they just poop.  And it seems they really like to let it go most often as they land or take off from the nest.

Most of the time we just deal with it if the nest is in the granary or the Poultry Pavilion.  But we find ourselves keeping the doors to certain buildings closed during the week or so that Barn Swallows are scouting for new nests.  It can be very inconvenient for us - but not as convenient as finding a swallow nest over an area where your cleaned harvest containers are stored or your garlic is curing.

We do have a fair amount of milkweed (a few different types) on the farm.  But the Common Milkweed is the most... um... common of them.  We don't mind having milkweed on the farm because we know they support some of the invertebrates we have decided we care about - especially the Monarch butterfly.  And when milkweed is in certain areas, they add an interesting texture and diversity to the plant life that we appreciate.

But, of course, Common Milkweed loves to invade cultivated spaces and they keep popping up where they aren't wanted by using their runners that spread out underground.  They can certainly stress out the crops we hope to grow and reduce their productivity.  While I don't find them all that hard to remove with our farming systems, I do get annoyed by the sticky, milky sap if it gets on my skin and clothing.

And so it goes.  Most of the plants and critters on our farm that we say we like have some sort of downside from our perspective.  And, I guess that's just the way it is.  None of them are entirely on our side, just as we are not entirely on theirs.  There will be moments where we clash and our interests fail to align.  Sometimes, we are adversaries more than we are allies.

Take deer, for example.

No.  Really.  Take the deer.  Take them very far from here.

As we have promoted a bit more "wildspace" on our farm and as we've scaled back production, we have set out the welcome mat for creatures like the Northern Bobwhite and encouraged a visit from a Wood Thrush.  We have also encouraged a healthy population of rabbits - and now some deer think this is a great place to raise their young.

Let's say we are less than pleased.  All you have to do is look at the lettuce and see how they like to eat the hearts out those plants when they are about half-grown.  Or you can look at our cauliflower crop.

Ok, you can't look at the cauliflower crop.  Because it's gone.  I think you can guess why that might be.

It's all part of the dance between the Genuine Faux Farm and the natural world.  If we say we want to work with nature, it means we have to accept that nature is not going to agree with us during every moment of our stewardship of this land.

Is this frustrating?  Yes.  But it makes you think harder about finding balances and reconsidering priorities.  I find myself admiring the grace of a fawn once it grows out of the early awkward phase - and I still consider them, raccoons, buffalo gnats and rabbits to be GFF adversaries in the first degree.  Each of these can rapidly reduce our goodwill and challenge our ideas like few things can.

What makes it worse is that many of our "allies" often seem to show little interest in supporting our interests.  I mean - if our interest happens to align with theirs - that's great and we're all going to work together just fine.  But the cats are still going to yowl at that moment you are about to fall asleep.  The Black Swallowtail larvae will eat some of your parsley.  And, the oak tree will drop a branch in your drive when it wants to.

In the end, we're the ones that have to exhibit the flexibility in our agreements.  The cat is going to be a cat.  The Barn Swallows will be Barn Swallows and the milkweed was only ever milkweed.  None of them professed to be anything else.  We do most of the choosing of our allies by working on our own attitudes and actions.

Over time, I've learned to find more allies than adversaries on our farm...  or at least I've accorded more of the things "neutral status."  But there's still a "dirty dozen" I fear will remain adversaries.  At least until I can get the deer to sign a contract that they'll eat things in areas we designate and the rabbits and woodchucks leave the seedlings alone so they can grow the food we can eat - and might be willing to share with them later on.

Sadly, none of them appear to be interested in learning to read or write and the idea of a contract might not get much traction.

Don't Leave Home Without It - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday!  

Before we get started, take a moment to prepare your favorite beverage and, if you want it, a snack.  Remember that you need to keep these things away from your keyboard and the paper items.  We don't want any accidents that might bring about bad feeling!  And speaking about bad feeling, let's take those troubles and put them in a blender with some peas.  Not only will you have whirled peas (think about it), your troubles won't be recognizable anymore.

As for whirled peas, I heard somewhere that everyone wanted whirled peas.

Let's start with a Merry Chase!

Our last couple of Postal History Sundays have featured items that have been forwarded.  Last week, we even tried to solve a mystery!  In the week before that, we described what it meant to forward mail.  If you don't feel like taking a link to read, I can help you out.  In postal history, forwarding is a specific type of redirected mail.  These are letters that were correctly addressed and the postal service attempted to deliver to that location - only to find out that the recipient had moved on.  The letter could then re-enter the mail system to a new address if a new location was known for the addressee.

Sometimes, when a person was traveling, a letter could follow them on a merry chase from one location to another.  I've always enjoyed old envelopes that have taken these "merry chases," though I admit that there are times when they also give me a headache as I try to figure how they got from place to place.  It's during those moments that I set the cover aside and wait until the motivation to figure it out returns.  The envelope I am featuring today is one such item.

This envelope addressed to Miss S. Louise Jewell (Sarah Louise Jewell 1853-1935), who was the Matron of Sumner Hall at Pomona College in Claremont, California, presents us with a merry chase that I am still in process of completely figuring it out.  Apparently, Miss Jewell decided to have a grand European travel adventure during the summer of 1914 - which became a very interesting time to travel because Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in June and World War I would get its start a month later when Austria-Hungary declared war with Serbia.

The letter was initially addressed to Paris, France - care of the American Express Company - arriving in Paris on August 17.  At bottom left, the address is made more specific with the notation "Am. Travel Club Party No. 4."  So, Miss Jewell was apparently with a group that was tracked by American Express, providing both financial and mail forwarding services.  The travel group number made it easier for American Express to know where the recipients should have been on the itinerary.

By the time this letter had arrived in France, Austria-Hungary had invaded Russia, Germany had invaded Luxembourg and Belgium and France had decided to try and take back the Alsace region they had lost in 1870 to Germany.

On its arrival, it was noted that the 2 cent US stamp was inadequate to pay the foreign postage (5 cents) for the letter.  That means postage was due and the cost (at least some of it) was provided by the American Express Company.  That payment is indicated by the three French postage due stamps - showing payment of 30 centimes of postage. **

** Note, I am not an expert in this area, so I am not going to spend time deciphering what paid for what this time around!  If you understand UPU forwarding rules in the 1910s, I am willing to listen.  There is a description on page 251 in the book by Wawrukiewicz and Beecher "US International Postal Rates, 1872-1996,"  but I don't have time to absorb, apply and re-describe that information this week.

S/S Alaunia (Cunard Line) - from Wikimedia Common - photo by Chaplain 4th Class The Rev. Oswin Creighton. 1915 photo in Alexandria, when Alaunia served as crew ship.

The next step I can easily determine is that the letter was forwarded to London, England, to the Cunard steamship Alaunia.  

The Alaunia was a fairly new ship at the time Miss Jewell was traveling, having had its maiden voyage in December of 1913.  This ship and its sister ships only had 2nd and 3rd class options, which was clearly meant to take advantage of high immigration numbers from Europe to the United States.  But it may also reflect the increase in travel interest by the general public in the United States.  These people would not have been able to afford first class accommodations, but they were still interested in seeing the world.    

The Alaunia was soon pressed into military service to carry troops.  It sank after a very short sailing career when it collided with a mine in the English Channel in October of 1916.

Getting back to our cover - this letter arrived in London on August 31st (according to a postmark on the back of the envelope) but the ship must have already left to cross the Atlantic, with Miss Jewell on board.   As a result, the cover was reposted in London on that same day to Pomona College in Claremont, California.  

Back home and safe after what must have been a tense situation while she was in Europe, Miss Jewell finally got to open and enjoy her letter.

** There appears to be an additional address or instruction in blue crayon, but I cannot decipher it.  If anyone else wants to take a crack at it - please feel free to do so!

The Cunard steamer ALAUNIA (1916) has been sunk. The crew of the steamer has been landed. The ALAUNIA, which was built at Greenock in 1913, had a tonnage of 13,400 gross. Lloyd's Agency states that the captain and 163 of the crew have bee landed. The passengers, about 180 in number, including a number of women and children had been landed earlier. [Aberdeen Journal 20.10.1916; Liverpool Daily Post 20.10.1916] Read more at wrecksite: https://wrecksite.eu/wreck.aspx?2

Don't leave home without it

Here is another letter mailed on April 16, 1911 from Wellesley, Massachusettes, that was initially sent to the American Express Company in Paris.  This time Miss Marion Mackley was taking the European tour, but well before the events of World War I were unfolding.

In this case, the letter was forwarded from the American Express offices in Paris to their offices in Rome.  Apparently, the recipient received this letter there and no further forwarding was required.  Of interest is the pre-printed label that was affixed over the original address.  Clearly, there was enough traffic between the Paris and Rome offices by this time that there was a real time saving in having these labels printed and available to the American Express staff.

Once again, the cost to mail a letter from the United States to a Universal Postal Union (UPU) member country was five cents, which was paid by the blue stamp at the top right.  The UPU was a convention for mail that dictated how mail could be exchanged between postal entities.  The agreement set maximum postage rates (countries could agree to lower rates) as well as postal procedures.  In the case of forwarded mail, if the letter was properly prepaid to get to its first destination, forwarding between UPU member nations would be provided for free.  

This is why our first letter is a bit more difficult to decipher.  It was not sent properly prepaid to the first destination.  As a result, additional rules took precedence on how the deficit might be paid and what needed to happen to cover forwarding costs.

1928 AmEx Tour Book from a lot on AbeBooks, link no longer live

American Express was first established in 1850 as an express delivery business, specializing in carrying valuable contents for banks and other financial concerns.  They found that focusing on the typically smaller, but more valuable, items was a successful business model.  They launched a money order business in 1881 and then introduced traveler's cheques in 1891.  These cheques came in standard denominations of $10, $20, $50 and $100.

Time Magazine (Apr 9, 1956) tells the origin story of traveler's checks.  Apparently J.C. Fargo - the third president of American Express - was disgusted to find that it was not easy to acquire cash in Europe despite having letters of credit for that purpose.  Upon returning, he ordered his staff to address the problem.  Marcellus Flemming Berry is credited with the invention of traveler's cheques, which are still in limited use today - though more convenient money transfer methods are more common now.  

The Paris office for American Express was opened in 1895 and by the time we get to the 1901, American Express was selling $6 million worth of traveler's cheques annually.  By the time these letters were sent, American Express had a very strong international presence.

During the summer of 1914, an estimated 150,000 American tourists were stranded as war spread throughout Europe.  Our first letter recipient, Miss Jewell, may very well have been one such traveler.  European banks had ceased to honor foreign letters of credit and many travelers found their way to American Express, who facilitated many return trips to the United States. 

The travel bug

The Cunard steamer ALAUNIA (1916) has been sunk. The crew of the steamer has been landed. The ALAUNIA, which was built at Greenock in 1913, had a tonnage of 13,400 gross. Lloyd's Agency states that the captain and 163 of the crew have bee landed. The passengers, about 180 in number, including a number of women and children had been landed earlier. [Aberdeen Journal 20.10.1916; Liverpool Daily Post 20.10.1916] Read more at wrecksite: https://wrecksite.eu/wreck.aspx?2

The Cunard steamer ALAUNIA (1916) has been sunk. The crew of the steamer has been landed. The ALAUNIA, which was built at Greenock in 1913, had a tonnage of 13,400 gross. Lloyd's Agency states that the captain and 163 of the crew have bee landed. The passengers, about 180 in number, including a number of women and children had been landed earlier. [Aberdeen Journal 20.10.1916; Liverpool Daily Post 20.10.1916] Read more at wrecksite: https://wrecksite.eu/wreck.aspx?2

Shown above is another letter sent from Oakland, California, on September 23, 1910 to Miss Alice Earl, another individual who was clearly on the move.  The letter was initially mailed to Messrs Hottinguer and Company (established in 1786 and active today).  Hottinguer and Company provided financial services at the time and would have honored "letters of credit" that travelers often used to access money.  

Miss Earl was no longer in Paris when this letter arrived, so it was forwarded to another financial firm in Rome and forwarded yet again to and agent in Cairo, Egypt.  Apparently the letter found Miss Earl there and its voyages through postal services (and financial forwarding agents) were at an end.  Once again, the letter was properly prepaid to the initial destination so no additional postage was required to forward it - even if the letter took its "merry chase" to more than one location.  Forwarding was free as long as each new destination was in another UPU member country.

If a person were so inclined, it would not be hard to find many examples of letters from the early 1900s to single, "unattached" women traveling the world.  These letters will commonly provide an example of mail forwarding and a person could reconstruct the relative popularity of various financial firms that supported travelers over that period.  You could even get an idea as to which destinations or trip itineraries were in favor at the time.

An interesting short article by Nicolas Bourguinat discusses some of the trends of "feminine mobility" in the 1800s, including exercising the freedom to travel the world.  Bourguinat suggests that because several female writers chronicled their travel in the mid 1800s, it became a "model of accomplishment" for other women to follow.  One such example was Ida Pfeiffer, who wrote about two world tours.  And another that is of particular interest to me is Fredrika Bremer, a Swede who visited the United States in 1849.  Her travels in the US included visits to many Scandinavia communities in the Upper Midwest.  In fact, a town in our area is named after her.  

I hope you enjoyed today's virtual travel by taking a look at how mail could be forwarded from one country to another.  Unfortunately, none of today's covers still have their contents.  I am sure most letters provided the news from home and inquiries about what the traveler might be seeing and experiencing.  

Sometimes the letters might have expressed a desire that they come home - which likely WAS the case for Miss Jewell in our first letter.  News of unrest in Europe had certainly reached acquaintances and loved ones, and it was only natural that they be concerned for the traveler's safety.  Without the contents, we can only imagine the words that were said and the advice given.  But I am fairly certain that the letter included the words "come home."

Thank you for joining me this week.  Have a fine remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.