Glass from the past

A lot of things can qualify as being "antique." When I think of antiques, I think of old furniture, made of real wood, not particle board. But there are all sorts of old things people collect. Like toys, bird houses, tools and implements, and even bottles.

Years ago we had this friend who, for his own entertainment, liked to dig holes where old outhouses used to be, in the hopes of finding a really old bottle or two in perfect condition. He'd research an area's history then he'd make a trip to city hall to get a map and permit to dig. He'd locate spots noted as "outhouse" or "out-building" and circle the areas where he most wanted to dig. Sometimes he'd dig in the same place for weeks - or a collection of weekends.

Early on a Saturday morning he'd load up his tools and head off by himself. Never once did he invite any of us. It was his thing. This was a man who, during the week, worked in a clean room, without a single particle of dust. I think he was just aching to get his hands dirty and this was the best way to do it.

This friend knew a lot about bottles. He could tell you the era, what it contained, and sometimes where it was manufactured or purchased. He had special tools to clean out the tiniest bottles, sometimes selling the more valuable ones, sometimes putting them in a special display case.

I thought of our friend the other day when William found an old bottle when cleaning out a pasture. Even full of dirt, you can still read the raised letters on the side easily. "Sauer's Extracts" - we looked it up and placed the bottle from some time between 1887 and 1900. It's a tiny thing, holding only 2 table spoons of precious liquids, probably vanilla or cinnamon. Sauer's was a condiment company from that period, but the family also owned American Glass Works, where the bottles were made by hand to hold the concentrated flavorings Sauer's was famous for. Bottles for Sauer's Extracts were only distributed until around 1923, when the Glass Works burned. 

I have some pretty dirty hobbies myself, but was never interested in digging up old toilets. I do enough digging around in poo without finding old toilets to excavate. But I do enjoy finding old items randomly though, and learning their histories. Discovering little relics like this one makes me think back to a time when things were both more complicated and more simple. 

I bet no one ever dreamed, in the old days, that history would be preserved in an old outhouse. It just goes to show, sometimes old toilets hold a lot more crap than we realize.

Root myths

Last night we heard a loud crash. It had just been raining, but there was no wind so when William came in and told us another tree fell over, we were surprised.

Roots of a tree that fell over last night after a soft rain. 

I went out this morning to find which tree fell down. It was just next to the house in the hollow, atop another tree that had fallen a month ago.

I thought that the breadth of a tree dictated the depth of the roots. But seeing so many trees of various species fall over in our last storms, I got curious as to why this happened, and started researching.  What I found was surprising.

First I learned that most of what I thought about tree roots was false. According to many studies I read, soil and bedrock conditions are the primary dictators to the type of roots a tree has, and not the species of the tree itself. In other words, just because a tree is a birch (or a beech or oak) does not mean it will have deep roots.  In fact, most trees in middle Tennessee don't go deeper than a meter - that's 3.28 feet.

Roots require air to survive. For example, roots don't grow deep into the soil in middle Tennessee, because air cannot penetrate much more that a foot or so deep in our clay soils, especially with so much bedrock below. Plus, the more rain we get, the lower that oxygen level in soils become.

The roots of this tree are taller than 6 ft. William

Water, and lack of water, contribute to the development of surface roots. Waterlogged soils result in poor gas exchange which depletes the soil of oxygen and leads to anaerobic conditions (which means lack of oxygen) and subsequent root death. Soils with permanently high water tables typically cause trees to develop very shallow, widespread rooting systems. 
We get a lot of rain in middle Tennessee, so the trees in this region are more likely to have shallow roots.

Remember that drought we had a couple of years ago? That was also a contributing factor. During a drought, roots reach toward the surface not only to find water but to breathe. The two years since that drought we've seen so much rain, the ground has become saturated, making it difficult for the soil to retain oxygen, so again, the trees reach toward the surface.  

Other factors add to the demise of a tree. Root damage is a primary cause of a weakened tree. If surface roots are cut or broken, a tree will die. Fire, drought, and injured surface roots will weaken a tree, making it more susceptible to becoming a tree that will end up lying on the ground.

High winds coupled with shallow and/or injured roots cause a tree - even old established ones - to fall over. If high winds push against the tree with enough force, the roots snap, causing the tree to topple over, like so many did during our last couple of storms. 

At least now I understand why so many large, old trees just toppled. This does not explain, though, why we had so many high winds during the past month. That's an entirely different topic.

Much of this information came from University of Tennessee research and the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

Every day

Every day I think about my kids. Something each day triggers a memory from when my children were small, learning about life. Every time I cook something with cheese (daily), I think of how Amanda used to gag on melted cheese, whining "it slips down my throat." We still quote her and smile, when our forks pull a long string of melted cheese to our mouths.

When I watch Bonita Rose run circles through the house after supper I remember how, at the end of every day, Luke used to be so energetic, I'd have to put him outside and tell him to run around the house to get out some of that energy. Sometimes I'd sit on the porch and count how many times he'd run past, other times I'd watch him from my kitchen sink while washing dishes. He rarely got distracted while running. He'd be out there 40 or 50 minutes, running like mad in a straight line, as if in a race. Then at bedtime he'd say to me "hungry, hungry" - somehow knowing that food gave him energy when he was sleepy. This was my 2 year old.  Funny boy.

Today Michelle put a picture on her blog that triggered another memory - the one of Luke and Stevie lying in bed reading. I remember that night so clearly. Stevie, just about 4 at the time, could not yet read. But he'd lie there with a book while his brother read, pretending to know the words on the page. He never chose a children's book, it was always a book that looked like something Luke had, a paperback.

That particular night Stevie actually did read a word. He was looking at a book about Squanto, his favorite Indian. He pointed at a page in the book and asked, "How can a word have only two letters?"

"That's the word 'SO'" I told him.  He repeated it, then proceeded to turn every page in that book looking for the word SO. From that night on, for several weeks, he took that Squanto book to bed with him, reading the only word he knew how to recognize.

I still have that book. I'll never give it up. Unless of course, some day, Stevie wants it to pass on to his child. For now though, that book lives in my shelves, along with so many of my memories.

Ren Fair Mother's day fun

Guidelines

It's really not all that horrible learning to have some guidelines. But try telling that to a dog or a child. They want what they want, and that's all. No real reason.

For Yogi it's the leash. It works like magic, if I want him to lie down, all I need to do is clip the leash on and BAM, he's on the ground.
Just try dragging an 85 pound dog around like that. He's pathetic, as if walking on a leash were painful.

Taking him to the vet takes two of us. I tried dragging him to the truck. Finally William more or less carried him. Once in the truck all he could think about was getting out.

On the way to the vet Yogi kept climbing on top of me and onto my head. Finally William and I switched places so he wrestle the dog while I drove.

Baby learns a lot from the animals. She learns to lick her plate, pant, bark, dig a sleeping hole, follow the goats, how to carry things with her mouth, and a score of other things. I'm afraid she's learning how to observe guidelines from them, too.

Of course, Bonnie Rose doesn't have a leash, but she hates to hold hands. To her it's the same thing. She feels like someone is dragging her around. It's a hard lesson to learn, letting your parents protect you. It's hard and it isn't fair. She isn't fond of help, so her solution is a lot like Yogi's.

Luckily for both of them (and us) we all manage to gain some level of control, one way or another.

Or so we want to believe.