Good morning, and rumors of our wintry weather have been greatly exaggerated. Welcome to Saturday Morning Garden Blogging.
It has been a bizarre weather week here in Denver; even more bizarre is turning on the teevee and seeing reportage of an alleged snowfall.
It did not snow in Denver. It snowed somewhere to the east, west and south — at least, flakes fell from the sky and some of it stuck to the ground temporarily.
Yes, it's been cool, cloudy and rainy all week. Yes, we've had rain every day since last Sunday (really strange for September). Yes, lows dipped down into the upper 30s — in anticipation I hauled all my tropical plants in for the cold season (and the brugmansia is very unhappy about it).
But that's a far cry from the Denver snowstorm showing on the national news: the pictures were from the foothills, 20 miles west and 1,000 feet higher than Denver. Hereabouts, when it comes to weather, three things matter: altitude, altitude and altitude.
The weather finally started turning on Thursday with the arrival of the Chinook winds. While it didn't stop the rain (early Friday morning we had a thunderstorm, fer gawd's sake), it did warm the temperatures: yesterday was in the mid 60s, and the forecast for the weekend is for highs in the mid 80s and clearing skies. It's about time. While the moisture is appreciated, we're not used to such extended periods of cloud cover.
The warming weather also is a very good thing as my bulb orders have started arriving, and I still have to finished last weekend's planting, interrupted by the Mister and me going on an Excellent Adventure.
Have you ever seen something so astoundingly kitschy; such a perfect embodiment of the tastelessness of an era; so downright uuggglyyy it transforms from tackiness to treasure? Something so outrageously bad it immediately provokes such morbid fascination you immediately know you just have to have it?
That's what happened with me and The Uuggglyyy when we took a page out of Missy's Brother's book and went to a garage sale.
Well, not just a garage sale. A combination of a young family downsizing as they walked away from the house unemployment made unaffordable, while at the same time disposing of the detritus from the wife's parent's house. The Mister was interested in the aquarium (of course!) listed in the Craig's List ad. And he thought I might like to look at a treadle sewing machine. So we jumped into the Silver Toaster, and motored 20 minutes up the highway to the northern 'burbs.
Once we finally found the correct cul de sac (doh! The Mister turned on Quail Way, not Quail Drive) we were on a treasure hunt. I had been concerned that, as it was early afternoon, all of the good stuff — including the sewing machine — would be gone. But as soon as we pulled up we saw it was still there: we paid $50 for a Singer Treadle Model 115-1 with Tiffany-style decals manufactured on 4/20/1915 in Elizabeth, New Jersey (yes, I've been doing my research; Singer has amazing records), in a 7 drawer enclosed cabinet. Stuffed in a drawer along with the old zippers and buttons and was a puzzle box containing a jumble of accessories, and part of the original manual. The machine is missing the stitch length regulator screw on the front and needs a new drive belt; and of course the accessory kit isn't complete, so I've been haunting ebay: I found the needed screw in a batch of parts I got for $10; another vendor had a leather drive belt for $8, and I'm in the process of buying up puzzle boxes and lots of parts so I can fill my puzzle box — so far I've gotten two puzzle boxes and a large lot of parts. I figure after I've completed my set of accessories, I can put the leftovers back on ebay and recoup at least some of what I've spent.
After striking a deal on the sewing machine, we headed to the back yard and I saw The Uuggglyyy — I snatched it up to start our pile, and then we dove into the boxes of 1950s and 1960s vintage kitchenware.
We unearthed a 10 1/2 inch cast iron chicken fryer, and a lovely cast iron griddle (you know, the good, smooth-surfaced cast iron; they need re-seasoned, but I'm experienced at doing that). Enamelware cake tins. Heavy gage aluminum cake pans. A funny little bronze casting of a fishing creel full of fish. A set of graduated-sized Corningware casseroles (with lids!).
We passed over the 1960s vintage Christmas decorations — they'd been picked over pretty good. We would have bought the standing mixer, but couldn't find the base plate which went with it. While the Jim Beam Donkey/Elephant decanters were tempting, the elephant was missing an ear and the donkey's tail was chipped (a collector had hit the place early in the morning and cleaned them out of all the valuable ones). But we did snag the Webster's Encyclopedic Dictionary of the English Language and Guide to Self-Education (copyright dates from 1938-1951), and a 1941 child care manual. The Mister scooped up various tools, including a belt sander to give to the neighbors.
We really didn't want it, but the husband of the couple talked us into taking an eight place setting of china — plain white with a gold rim. I don't know where in hell I'm going to put it, but for $10... well....
And then there's The Uuggglyyy: Mr. Teapot. I'm guessing — like most of the stuff we saw — it's of early 1950s vintage. When Younger Son saw it perched atop the box of kitchenware in the back of the Silver Toaster, he found it disturbing in its weirdness.
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Yeah, I see that — which is what makes it so great! |
Perhaps it's because the various parts make no sense together: why the chef's hat — when he's staring at a bee? why the heavy, dark eyebrows — when the hair is brown brushed with gold? and the very careful attention paid to painting each individual tooth — but the paint on the eyebrows is slapped on willy-nilly?
I dunno, but I just had to have it.
That's what's happening here. What's going on in your gardens?