5-Day Black & White Photo Challenge, Day 3

MAY 18, 2015 IN GENERALPHOTO CHALLENGE

Some people may recognize this Candlewick from Imperial Glass. These are pieces from my mother’s collection—it was her wedding china pattern. Aside from steel mills and coal mines, this area was known for its quality glass like Imperial, Fostoria and Fenton, and there were many artisans crafting hand-blown and hand-painted pieces. Two of my grandfathers worked for Imperial, but the factory is gone now. However, the Imperial Glass Museum is located in Bellaire, Ohio, along the Ohio River. Zanesville Pottery and Roseville Pottery were located about 60 miles west.

In fact, Belmont County has been historically significant since before the Revolutionary War when it was considered the wilderness, a sort of no-man’s-land. Many of the settlers were soldiers and their families who received plots of land in exchange for their service. In Morristown (near Barkcamp) several soldiers’ remains rest in Pioneer Cemetery.  

Before, during and after the Civil War Belmont County was a gateway to points north for the Underground Railroad. A few miles from Morristown, in Flushing, Dr. John Mattox hosts visitors at the Underground Railroad Museum Foundation. The thousands of artifacts he has collected are fascinating, and he is a great storyteller.

In Barnesville, the Victorian Mansion Museum is the preserved and restored residence of one of the town’s prominent families. Beautiful  hand-crafted woodwork, furniture, period collections and special displays are well worth a look.

The county seat, St. Clairsville, has a new museum next to the County Courthouse. It’s a converted Sheriff’s Residence (and jail) with information on many of the local museums I’ve mentioned and on upcoming events.       

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5-Day Black & White Photo Challenge, Day 2

MAY 17, 2015 IN GENERALPHOTO CHALLENGE

Since I don’t have current camping photos, I thought I would share some of the local attractions that may be of interest to RVers in the event that you decide to visit this part of the Ohio Valley. I stopped at Barkcamp State Park yesterday, (a few miles north of my house) where my brother and sister-in-law set up their giant travel trailer when they bring it down from Michigan.

Barkcamp is a local favorite for hikers, fisherman, and hunters. It has horse trails and equestrian camping areas, an archery range and miniature golf, playgrounds, a stony beach, picnic areas throughout, and, I believe, family movies are shown during the summer in one area. This is the “quintessential Barkcamp photo” of the lake that everyone would recognize. One of the boat launches and a dock are just out of the photo, to the left.

Sites seem to go quickly since it’s a state park. I do know that locals camp here because I’ve walked there as training for a 5k (a combination of hills and flat roads with limited traffic) and chatted with people from nearby towns. There is also a popular and difficult trail run every fall called--wait for it--the Barkcamp Race founded by a friend of mine. Sometimes I take a chair and book and my pup Zsa Zsa on summer Sunday afternoons and sit in a quiet picnic area under the trees. I’ve been here in all four seasons, and it’s always beautiful.   

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Passing (through) Some Time

FEBRUARY 16, 2015 IN GENERAL

Last week I had to shoot photos of vintage items for a news article. I went to the Barnesville Antique Mall, and it was pretty cool. My head was spinning after perusing three floors crammed with all kinds of items, big and small, Depression glass, pottery, lots of jewelry, handbags, knick knacks, kitchen items—you get the idea. The people were very nice and had set up a display for me to photograph. I purchased a pair of earrings, restraining myself with all of my willpower against buying a large armoire (that I don’t need, and, truthfully, couldn’t get into the house if by chance I could find a way to get it home.)

Tucked away among the bowls, plaques, baubles and linens, there were a couple of odd items. I posted the “duck o’lantern (?!?)” on my Instagram account. And, truly, I'm glad I was a good little girl because I can't imagine how I would have turned out if Santa Claus had brought me a baby doll like the one forever-screaming, pictured below. I had the strangest thoughts about how the other two dolls have just tuned that one out; they’ve become jaded, numb and stare blankly into their own worlds, day in, day out. Which led me to think about how we, witnessing or experiencing similar constant noise (violence, crying children, barking dogs, maltreatment of animals or humans, etc.) eventually tune it out or adopt it as part of the daily landscape.

But I was on sensory-overload at that point, had totally missed lunch and hadn’t even finished my morning coffee.

I think I’ll be going back, though. I just got a Holga lens, and this might be a good test location.

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Crush on Vino di Piccin

OCTOBER 25, 2014 IN WINE

Last week I was invited to see and photograph the crush at a small local winery, a venture run by six hard-working siblings based on their father's homemade wine. Vino di Piccin in Lansing has a beautiful wine bar and some pretty darn good wines (i.e. Angelo's Reserve and Luigi's Zin.)

Saturday was all about the California Zinfandel and Cabernet Sauvignon grapes they secured from an Ohio distributor. Crates of Geneva, Ohio Concord grapes sat waiting for their turn in the crusher, too.

Thank you to the Piccin family for allowing me to hang out and take some photos, for the tastes, and for being such gracious hosts to everyone who walks through the door. The glass of wine in the final photo is what Saturday's grapes will aspire to be: Luigi's Zin.

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Perusing Pumpkin Patches

OCTOBER 12, 2014 IN TIMES LEADER

(This feature appeared in today's Times Leader.)

By GLYNIS VALENTI Times Leader Staff Writer

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Pumpkin season arrived right around the time of the fall equinox, just as the leaves began to turn colors other than green. Or it arrived September 1, the day McDonald’s released its Pumpkin Spice Latte drink (Starbucks released theirs on September 2.) Either way pumpkins mean fall, and fall means pumpkins—and lots of them. 

According to information from Iowa State University, pumpkin sales in the United States rose 16 percent from 2011 to 2012, meaning growers sold 1,388,800,000 pounds worth of pumpkin in 2012, a total value of nearly $149 million. Ohio is number three in pumpkin production behind California and top producer Illinois. In fact, 90 percent of America’s crop grows within 90 miles of Peoria, close to the Libby’s pumpkin processing plant. More than 85 percent of the world’s canned pumpkin comes from this plant.

In October pumpkins are all around in a wide range of shapes and sizes. While all varieties are packed with nutritional benefits, some pumpkins are grown and suited for different uses. Pumpkin is a vegetable, a member of the Cucurbitaceae family of vine plants like squash, cucumbers and cantaloupes. The most familiar varieties have orange or yellow skins, but they can be white, brown, red, grey or green.

The smallest pumpkins weigh only a few ounces and are used for decoration. The largest, or “giant,” varieties are grown mainly for competitions like the King Pumpkin contest at the Barnesville Pumpkin Festival. Many weigh several hundred pounds, but this year’s 1,514 pound winner was a festival record-breaker. The other hundreds of varieties of cooking, processing and carving pumpkins are in the middle of these extremes, and there are some particulars about choosing them.

All pumpkins are squash, the word “squash” coming from an Algonquin word, “askutasquash,” meaning “eaten green or unripe.” The earliest pumpkin eaters did harvest them early and prepare them like zucchini and other squashes.

One of the oldest known pumpkins is the cushaw, Cucurbitaceae argyrosperma, which originated in Mexico and was used 7,000 years ago. The cushaw’s elongated shape and crooked neck set it apart from the pumpkin pack, as does its light to whitish green color with mottled green stripes. Also called the green-striped cushaw and Hopi cushaw, it’s a heat-hardy, pest-resistant plant grown in desert areas of America’s southwest and can be stored up to four months. Early growers not only ate the plant for sustenance, but used it medicinally to treat burns and skin conditions like eczema, as well as to rid the body of intestinal worms and parasites. Outside of the southwest, southern and Appalachian cuisine make the most use of the moist, fibrous yellow flesh today for pies, pastries and Tennessee cushaw butter, but its availability is limited in other areas.  

Out perusing pumpkins? There are two heirloom varieties that aficionados may enjoy hunting down. The first is the cheese pumpkin, C. moschata, a large, tan squash named for its shape’s likeness to a cheese wheel. Of West Indian origin, it was known to be in Europe during the 1500s and was cultivated on American soil before the American Revolution. It appeared in an 1815 seed catalog here and was also known as the Landreth Cheese and Mammoth Cheese pumpkins. Today’s Buff Pie pumpkin is believed to be the same variety.

 The second, the Quaker Pie pumpkin, is rare but still around. A New York seed catalog advertised this white-skinned, white-flesh globe, which averages about 8 inches in diameter, but weighs around 10 pounds. The vines grow to 15 feet long and have very large flowers. In cooking, this variety has a coconut flavor.

Pumpkin—real pumpkin, not the canned pie mix—is a rich source of the antioxidant beta-carotene. One cup of cooked, drained flesh is only 49 calories and yields 2 grams of protein, 3 grams of fiber and 12 grams of carbohydrates. It contains a wealth of minerals: calcium, magnesium, potassium and zinc. But the beta-carotene converts to Vitamin A which is vital for skin, mucous membranes and eye health and fights age-related macular disease. Studies are indicating that Vitamin A also helps the body resist lung and oral cavity cancers. Pumpkin seeds, too, are a heart-healthy snack providing dietary fiber and mono-unsaturated fatty acids, protein, iron, niacin, selenium, zinc and the amino acid tryptophan.

Finding cooking pumpkins is easy this time of year. Here are a few pointers for finding the tastiest. Cooking pumpkins are smaller, between 4 and 8 pounds. The flesh is dense, sweet and smooth. Look for names like “Sugar Baby,” “Baby Pam,” “New England Pie,” and “Autumn Gold.” Ripe pumpkins make a hollow sound when tapped. Avoid those that are cut or bruised because of the risk of bacteria getting inside. They can be stored for several weeks at room temperature in a cool, well-ventilated area.

When cutting, remove the stem end first. Cut the pumpkin in half lengthwise and remove the webbing and seeds. Slice the halves, and cut the flesh into cubes. Not just for pie, pumpkin is used in stews, cookies, pancakes, breads, casseroles, sauces, ice cream, cheesecake, ravioli filling and on its own as a side dish. It is often used interchangeably with winter squash, especially butternut.

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Carving, or field, pumpkins are usually larger and grow in various shapes. It helps to have a carving design in mind before shopping. Elongated varieties lend themselves to faces or window designs. Plumper shapes are suited to the traditional “jack o’ lantern” face. Oddly shaped pumpkins may provide opportunities for creating funny or scary faces. Again, a hollow sound when tapped means a ripe pumpkin, but the skin should be firm, not soft or bruised. It should sit solid and level.

Assemble cutting and carving tools such as knives, saws, an ice cream scoop and dry erase markers or T-pins to draw or transfer the design. Professional pumpkin artists use a variety of power tools during the carving process. One suggests a drywall saw for the initial cuts, a jigsaw for smaller cuts, a rotary tool for the skin and an angle grinder for cleaning large areas.   

Decide where the opening will be. If it’s the top, cut into the pumpkin on an angle to make a cone.  Openings can also be cut into the back or the bottom, but make sure the pumpkin will sit safely. Remove the seeds and netting with an ice cream scoop, beginning at the top of the hole and progressively moving down through the pumpkin. Scrape the inside clean with the scoop or scraper tool, and try to scrape the flesh down on the inside to less than one inch in the design area to make carving easier.

To transfer a pattern, secure or draw the image on the prepared area. Follow the lines of the design with a sharp, pointed object such as a T-pin, nail or metal skewer, then dust the lines with baking soda or cornstarch. Mark the areas to be cut with a marker or crayon while peeling the pattern away. Start with the small sections to be removed. Gently follow the dots with a saw blade or small knife. Keep the design in mind while carving—whatever is lit in the design is what needs to be carved out. The professionals urge care and patience here not only for safety, but to not damage intricate areas in the design. Don’t slice or rush, removing the sections carefully by hand. Make sure the back area is scraped clean and flat so as not to create shadows when lit.

Pros suggest a light spritz of bathroom cleaner with bleach or soaking it overnight in a tub of water with a little bleach. The bleach will keep pests away, and the water will keep the pumpkin firm. A thin layer of petroleum jelly on the exposed edges will help retain the moisture and prolong the pumpkin’s life. Light it up with blinker or flicker bulbs, black light or a noise sensor that turns it on when someone walks by.

Back to the Pumpkin Spice Latte, or PSL, Starbucks has sold more than 200 million over its 10 years on the menu. A medium has 510 calories, 20 grams of fat and 62 grams of sugar. McDonald’s PSL has fewer calories at 440, but the same fat and sugar content. The non-fat versions still contain the sugar (as much an average candy bar) but fewer calories and far less fat.

The real kicker? There is no “pumpkin” in it. According to the Starbucks website, the PSL is an “espresso beverage that features freshly steamed milk, rich and creamy pumpkin-flavored sauce and warm seasonal spices such as cinnamon, ginger nutmeg and clove.” But America’s love of pumpkin shows no signs of slowing down, and in 2013 spent $308 million on various pumpkin-flavored products. What would the Great Pumpkin think about that?

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Your Road is Your Own

SEPTEMBER 21, 2014 IN GENERAL

So now that I have been through the house, examining and weighing the remnants of my parents’ lives, it is time for my own reckoning.

Yesterday I started in my corner of the garage. Several Rubbermaid bins have been sitting there since I moved from Rochester to Oregon. The three or four that I went through (those bins not buried under hypertufa supplies and my Oriental rug) still yielded paperwork to be shredded and things to add to the giveaway piles. I brought my silverware into the house to use.

I was surprised at how detached I was as I methodically glanced and tossed. Not wearing my glasses was probably a good idea. Once in awhile something caught my eye, and those few things were placed in a “review” pile.

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Though I would prefer “spring” as a metaphor for growth and rebirth, there is change in the air today. I heard Canadian geese this morning, getting an early start. I was hopeful when I heard a brief rain as I woke up, but that was the beginning and the end apparently. The blustery wind has blown the clouds and any chance of rain east for the foreseeable future. Color is creeping through the trees, and we know what’s next. I looked over my curious pile of memories this morning. Change is imminent.

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1.  In my “office” bin, I found this program from a Bobby McFerrin concert. NEAD, the agency where I worked at the time, gave me two prime tickets for my birthday. I was so appreciative. The people in that office were kind and giving and funny. Everyone was on the same mission and worked as a team. So proud and blessed to have been a part of it.

The letter is from an acquaintance. I felt guilty when I pondered this because I truly had no idea who this person was, yet I am “dearest Glynis.” I finally figured out that he was a friend of a friend whom I met once or twice with my friend in Cleveland. Other than that, I know nothing about him.   

The notebooks were entirely different. There were logs from one of my part-time jobs for a market research firm along with, surprisingly, notes to someone I was seeing at the time. I don’t think I ever sent these notes—a good thing, I’m sure. It was upsetting to read some of them because this wasn’t a good time in my life. The words are not angry, but in fact overly caring. It was difficult to read because I know how unhappy I was, and I used all of my strength to cover and push that pain down. Live and learn. Well, sort of.

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2. The wine bottle is something I brought back from Oregon. It was in a basket with other more pertinent things. Clients—five brothers--at my wine shop meet in Cannon Beach every year from different parts of the country. They came into the shop and grilled me about wine, did some tasting and talking and bought a couple of bottles for the weekend. As they were leaving town, they stopped in to say goodbye and presented me with a half glass of this premier Bordeaux ($200+ bottle.) I was touched and flattered to be included, and it gave me a little confidence, too. The bottle shattered on the garage floor when I dropped the basket.

In one of the bins I found my father’s sunglasses from the 1960s, which, after he said I could have them, I wore occasionally. He came into the garage just after I broke the bottle. I thought he would be mad that 1. there was glass all over the floor and 2. that it was a wine bottle. Instead he seemed genuinely concerned that I not hurt myself cleaning it up and sorry that I broke something that I valued.  

You never know for sure how people will react.

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3. This other notebook had a different “theme.” In it I explored different path choices. What was the comparative cost of living in Santa Fe or Taos? What were my skills? My marketable skills? And this page, for some reason left blank. “What I would do if I could do anything.” That is the question, isn’t it?

The framed card is one that sat on my desk in Rochester. It reads, “Your road…is your own.” True again. I find myself trying to determine what I want to do next and where I want to go now, but this time I’m releasing things I don’t want to carry on the next leg of my journey. My road IS my own, and I can DO anything I want. I have figured this out at this point.

Each of us has a path, and, if you’re moving along it, the scenery is always changing. I feel like I’ve been here before, but not. This time around I’ve let go of things, of the past, and am continuing that work. Maybe that’s what this is about: releasing, shedding like fall leaves, finding one’s essence and truth within.

 

Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho

JULY 07, 2014 IN GENERAL

In spite of the fact that I cut my hours back at the paper to spend more time working on my parents' estate and getting my new life together, I ended up working on FOUR features last week. In fact, I worked all holiday weekend. Not happy.

I'm stressing now about getting everything done at the house. My brother is on his way here as I type, and we have much to do with the contents and attorney this week. I have a project at the County to finish and turn in Thursday, and another feature is due Friday.

That feature, though, is something that I am happy to write. Local artist Cathy Carpenter has designed a line of beautiful necklaces and earrings incorporating poly-clay with vintage buttons, findings and pieces of jewelry. All money from this line, called "Giving by Design," will be donated to the Schiffler Cancer Center at Wheeling Hospital. She invited me to her farm last week to do photos and talk about the project.

Three of her family members lost their battles with cancer within one year. Art was her therapy throughout and after. Now she is completing the circle by giving to other families. Donations will go toward grocery cards, gas cards, restaurant cards and other expenses that patients and families face while in town for treatments or appointments. I'll post the article here later this month.

Her farm has been in her husband's family for at least 150 years. The house itself is 140 years old and is still full of his grandparents' furniture. There are no cows or sheep anymore, but birds and butterflies are all around. Lucy the rescue kitty lounges on the patio, taking it all in.

Though I was there for work, it felt like a brief respite, far away from the craziness.

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Rescue Me

JUNE 28, 2014 IN GENERAL

I accepted an invitation and assignment for this afternoon. The feature will appear in the newspaper (and probably here) in late July, but I'm looking forward to telling this story. I thought I was covering a new equine therapy business, RJ Ranch and Riding Center, but as I spoke with people today, I realized it was a rescue story: preserving a local historic farm, saving animals literally hours from death and turning an autistic child's life around.

I did get some photos for the article today, but these are "artsy" ones of the old barn that Julie Larish, owner, says they've "pretty much rebuilt." Broken horses are mending and thriving as therapy animals brightening the futures of their clients. The email address is "rjranch911."

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