Posts
Sun Rise
Love You Mom - "Love Hold Our Tomorrow"
14 years ago
July 26, 2007
July 24, 2007
July 20, 2007
Homecoming; The Place Called Pultneyville
Pultneyville...spoken just the way it looks...with a long e in the middle
that is unless you are talking with one of the locals...
one who's been around the block a couple times...
at the end of the day tired from working the orchards and fields,
or maybe with seasick legs just off the boat...
or then again, some days "jus' because" that's how the locals express their affection for their small Hamlet along the Lake Ontario Southern Shoreline.
Any of these the case and in fact you have found one with roots to there...Pultneyville is slurred to sound more like "Put-neyville"... Just for fun if you look real close at some written accounts printed for the Town of Williamson-where Pultneyville is properly positioned on the map in Upstate, NY, even the locals can be known to "misspell" her this way tho' they pass the roadsigns each day telling them how it is supposed to be...But...no matter, not to the locals...for calling Pultneyville..."Put-neyville" always comes with a smile.
From time to time in the future I thought I'd do some storytelling 'bout this little stop along the Seaway Trail. Rich in heritage connected to Lake Ontario...complete with fishing lines and everyday tale "lines" of "the big one that got away"; sunken ships and cannon balls found along her coast waters left over reminders of the War of 1812 and the St. Peter sunken ship (1898) at rest just off Fairbanks Point; or "the Lake was a bit rough today" warnings for sailing or fishing...
Or maybe show-n-tell you the homes dotting her shoreline of Captains past, many resting at Lakeview Cemetary overlooking, still watching their Lake. Some of the old time homes have not been reconstructed and the "hiding" rooms, many in attics of the homes remain, reminders of the Lake's purpose and calling to carry people safely by night calmed waters across to Canada. Some of the old time homes are cobblestone, small lake-smooth aged stones collected from her shoreline and carried to a coastline home or horse drawn closer to the "Ridge."
Oh...there are a million stories to tell...truth told, Lakeview Cemetary could tell you far more than I have heard to re-tell...because of the stones and the people buried there, yes, that's true...but more by the man who caretakes there. Ask anyone in Put-neyville this weekend...who to ask...about...that is, if you want to know any story that has ever been told or written about Pultneyville...and if you hear the answer, "Chet Peters"...well, you'll know first hand you are talkin' to a local.
Pultneyville's Gates Hall is known to be "the second oldest little theatre in the United States".
For a listing of this weekend's production go to:
http://www.pultneyvillehistoricalsociety.org/pages/news_feat.htm
And...because the locals love the "holiday season" (even if it is the third weekend of July)
be sure to check out one of the newest attractions along Salmon Creek featuring local artists:
http://www.thelandingatpultneyville.com/pages/artisansloft.html
Have a safe and happy "Homecoming".
Jane Marla VerDow
that is unless you are talking with one of the locals...
one who's been around the block a couple times...
at the end of the day tired from working the orchards and fields,
or maybe with seasick legs just off the boat...
or then again, some days "jus' because" that's how the locals express their affection for their small Hamlet along the Lake Ontario Southern Shoreline.
Any of these the case and in fact you have found one with roots to there...Pultneyville is slurred to sound more like "Put-neyville"... Just for fun if you look real close at some written accounts printed for the Town of Williamson-where Pultneyville is properly positioned on the map in Upstate, NY, even the locals can be known to "misspell" her this way tho' they pass the roadsigns each day telling them how it is supposed to be...But...no matter, not to the locals...for calling Pultneyville..."Put-neyville" always comes with a smile.
From time to time in the future I thought I'd do some storytelling 'bout this little stop along the Seaway Trail. Rich in heritage connected to Lake Ontario...complete with fishing lines and everyday tale "lines" of "the big one that got away"; sunken ships and cannon balls found along her coast waters left over reminders of the War of 1812 and the St. Peter sunken ship (1898) at rest just off Fairbanks Point; or "the Lake was a bit rough today" warnings for sailing or fishing...
Or maybe show-n-tell you the homes dotting her shoreline of Captains past, many resting at Lakeview Cemetary overlooking, still watching their Lake. Some of the old time homes have not been reconstructed and the "hiding" rooms, many in attics of the homes remain, reminders of the Lake's purpose and calling to carry people safely by night calmed waters across to Canada. Some of the old time homes are cobblestone, small lake-smooth aged stones collected from her shoreline and carried to a coastline home or horse drawn closer to the "Ridge."
Oh...there are a million stories to tell...truth told, Lakeview Cemetary could tell you far more than I have heard to re-tell...because of the stones and the people buried there, yes, that's true...but more by the man who caretakes there. Ask anyone in Put-neyville this weekend...who to ask...about...that is, if you want to know any story that has ever been told or written about Pultneyville...and if you hear the answer, "Chet Peters"...well, you'll know first hand you are talkin' to a local.
For today..."Homecoming" Is the News around Pultneyville.
http://www.pultneyvillehistoricalsociety.org/pages/homecoming.htm
Pultneyville's Gates Hall is known to be "the second oldest little theatre in the United States".
For a listing of this weekend's production go to:
http://www.pultneyvillehistoricalsociety.org/pages/news_feat.htm
And...because the locals love the "holiday season" (even if it is the third weekend of July)
be sure to check out one of the newest attractions along Salmon Creek featuring local artists:
http://www.thelandingatpultneyville.com/pages/artisansloft.html
Have a safe and happy "Homecoming".
Jane Marla VerDow
Lake Ontario Southern Shore
Rochester, New York
Known in its founding days as "The Flour City" due to its location on the Erie Canal, the earliest means to connect a farmer's grain to regional/City manufacturing and production, Rochester is on the path of the Genesee River as it feeds into Lake Ontario. The Erie Canal waterway system, in our local region an east-west path, was primarily constructed (dug out by man, real horse power, and early pulley/crane systems) to connect farmers and local trade to international markets. Upstate has traditionally been known and remains the major apple production area of New York State and early days the Erie Canal provided the means to ship dried apple products in box-wooden crates and raw apples in wooden barrels to Europe.
Though Rochester's official associated name is and will forever remain to the long time locals, "The Flour City", meaning shifted as the Erie Canal lost its founding function and with the growth of the Lilac Festival (The Flower City).
Most recent years, the Erie Canal has regained popularity as a waterway for boating tourists providing bed and breakfast and stop-n-shop opportunities. Bike trails line the upper banks of the Canal as it travels through New York State.
Rochester is rich in historical significance, the Underground Railroad and the Freedom Trail (The St. Lawrence Seaway) providing means for slaves to Canada; voting rights led by Susan B. Anthony, the primary meeting ground to develop strategy and to write woman's history (along with Stanton from nearby Seneca Falls, NY) and the abolition movement with Frederick Douglass. Rochester is also known as the home of George Eastman (Eastman-Kodak).
What would Rochester be without a slide show?...
From time to time in the future I'll share Rochester and the regional area from my own collection of pictures of "the good ol' days" and some more current of the place I call "home" in Upstate New York along the Lake Ontario (Southern) Shoreline.
For now, to support my Home City, I'll share the tour that Rochester has offerred the world in pictures.
http://www.visitrochester.com/phototour/phototour/index.cfm?action=cover&tourID=22
To view more of the author's photography images from Upstate, NY scroll down to the base of Lake Ontario Shoreline blog.
Known in its founding days as "The Flour City" due to its location on the Erie Canal, the earliest means to connect a farmer's grain to regional/City manufacturing and production, Rochester is on the path of the Genesee River as it feeds into Lake Ontario. The Erie Canal waterway system, in our local region an east-west path, was primarily constructed (dug out by man, real horse power, and early pulley/crane systems) to connect farmers and local trade to international markets. Upstate has traditionally been known and remains the major apple production area of New York State and early days the Erie Canal provided the means to ship dried apple products in box-wooden crates and raw apples in wooden barrels to Europe.
Though Rochester's official associated name is and will forever remain to the long time locals, "The Flour City", meaning shifted as the Erie Canal lost its founding function and with the growth of the Lilac Festival (The Flower City).
Most recent years, the Erie Canal has regained popularity as a waterway for boating tourists providing bed and breakfast and stop-n-shop opportunities. Bike trails line the upper banks of the Canal as it travels through New York State.
Rochester is rich in historical significance, the Underground Railroad and the Freedom Trail (The St. Lawrence Seaway) providing means for slaves to Canada; voting rights led by Susan B. Anthony, the primary meeting ground to develop strategy and to write woman's history (along with Stanton from nearby Seneca Falls, NY) and the abolition movement with Frederick Douglass. Rochester is also known as the home of George Eastman (Eastman-Kodak).
What would Rochester be without a slide show?...
From time to time in the future I'll share Rochester and the regional area from my own collection of pictures of "the good ol' days" and some more current of the place I call "home" in Upstate New York along the Lake Ontario (Southern) Shoreline.
For now, to support my Home City, I'll share the tour that Rochester has offerred the world in pictures.
http://www.visitrochester.com/phototour/phototour/index.cfm?action=cover&tourID=22
To view more of the author's photography images from Upstate, NY scroll down to the base of Lake Ontario Shoreline blog.
July 17, 2007
July 15, 2007
The pathway;my life
and on the pathway...of my walk...I discovered me...some I already knew, some I was still discovering...and as I walked towards I sensed it pulling me...and on the lookbacks, I saw and felt replayed all life I had known and lived...and once I reached the end of where I could no longer walk...the answer I was searching for, there I found...and I smiled, no, truth told I laughed outloud...and said "thank-you", most grateful ...then I played there...content I walked back out and followed my path...some steps I already knew...and some I was still to discover...
Janie
June 26, 2007
A Farmer's Faith
Written on a March Sunday, 2000 when we were talking in a Church home of Jesus drawing lines in the sand. My heart and mind drew me afterwards to the lakeshore where this was written.
While others questioned where it was written and talked of straight lines and tiers of oppression holding others down, I was picturing Jesus with stick in hand drawing a circle in the sand around the woman and asking “How much space do you need?” And saying “Fill your space.”
Written June 21st, 2001…
Now on this morning of late June 2001 on the 21st day, somehow blossom time makes sense.
The Lake, ...for the first time my home on Earth discovered in my time and in God’s Time the Way my Creator planted the dream in my heart as it would be for me so many years before. I had traveled for a lifetime a Soul path to the crest of the hill, sat there always in body or mind sense looking to the Lake and praying when God’s Presence and guidance was most needed... dreamt of walking the final mile alone to the Lakeshore, then…stepping in and walking to my body balance point that allows strength and complete submission without fear, then…returning to create what God was dreaming of, too.
This was the body of what was written at the Lakeshore late March of 2000…
To provide support for the process of growth and discovery, those choosing to support that process may find that growth occurs naturally when righteous actions are abandoned, power is given rather than taken, and control is seen as unnecessary. Although forcing action-response may be the necessary tool or approach to spark awakening, to merely do so limited by hungry desires and wants or our predetermined and well-worn pathways, we risk taking the life force from the tree for only the tree knows its own time and growth space.
The true miracle of growth often comes with the passage of time in fertile ground, with supportive waiting, the balanced new air of Spring following the hardship, quiet and rest of a long Winter.
While the farmer rests and dreams, the buds of growth each respond on their own time clock, and awaken to their self and God determined Path; their opening. Wishing the onset, wishing to control the timing, wishing the blossoming, does nothing but breed the disappointment, the anxiety, the painful awareness of the long Soul wait. Believing, holding faith, and trusting that on their own each will open in their God Time to their predetermined Earth time, we dream of blossoms and fruits abundant.
It is true that the combined, the unison May time blossoming holds beauty beyond description. My eyes, oh, how many times they have been blessed to witness this event of color. Yet, no less spectacular, no less a miracle, no less eye opening is that single late flower bloom of the single blossom cluster that my eyes have always been with vision to see on that late June morning.
When all the others have faded and by now well turned to fruit, this one single blossom how captivating, so powerful in its aloneness that it holds our attention when the others have long ago become, reviving our memory of what had come before balanced against a hope-vision of what is yet to be. We do not force this one to be like the others, to catch-up, to expect this one to become the biggest fruit on the tree but rather, we sit back in curiosity and with support equal to that which we have given the others, respond to the grace that it is by just surviving and simply being, and anticipate what it may become.
We know without proof of knowing, our hearts open to our discovery and God’s gift in that moment when our eyes were most open, that this flower of blossom as it comes to fruit in its own God Time and God Space, and mirrors the image God has pictured, that by observing its presence and doing nothing, we watched a miracle of its own discovery.
Janie
Above is an edited version of a longer story.
Appears in full, nonfiction spiritual novel, Dear Daisy by author, Jane Marla VerDow
http://www.risingsparrowpress.com/Bio.htm
http://www.risingsparrowpress.com/announce.htm
While others questioned where it was written and talked of straight lines and tiers of oppression holding others down, I was picturing Jesus with stick in hand drawing a circle in the sand around the woman and asking “How much space do you need?” And saying “Fill your space.”
Written June 21st, 2001…
Now on this morning of late June 2001 on the 21st day, somehow blossom time makes sense.
The Lake, ...for the first time my home on Earth discovered in my time and in God’s Time the Way my Creator planted the dream in my heart as it would be for me so many years before. I had traveled for a lifetime a Soul path to the crest of the hill, sat there always in body or mind sense looking to the Lake and praying when God’s Presence and guidance was most needed... dreamt of walking the final mile alone to the Lakeshore, then…stepping in and walking to my body balance point that allows strength and complete submission without fear, then…returning to create what God was dreaming of, too.
This was the body of what was written at the Lakeshore late March of 2000…
To provide support for the process of growth and discovery, those choosing to support that process may find that growth occurs naturally when righteous actions are abandoned, power is given rather than taken, and control is seen as unnecessary. Although forcing action-response may be the necessary tool or approach to spark awakening, to merely do so limited by hungry desires and wants or our predetermined and well-worn pathways, we risk taking the life force from the tree for only the tree knows its own time and growth space.
The true miracle of growth often comes with the passage of time in fertile ground, with supportive waiting, the balanced new air of Spring following the hardship, quiet and rest of a long Winter.
While the farmer rests and dreams, the buds of growth each respond on their own time clock, and awaken to their self and God determined Path; their opening. Wishing the onset, wishing to control the timing, wishing the blossoming, does nothing but breed the disappointment, the anxiety, the painful awareness of the long Soul wait. Believing, holding faith, and trusting that on their own each will open in their God Time to their predetermined Earth time, we dream of blossoms and fruits abundant.
It is true that the combined, the unison May time blossoming holds beauty beyond description. My eyes, oh, how many times they have been blessed to witness this event of color. Yet, no less spectacular, no less a miracle, no less eye opening is that single late flower bloom of the single blossom cluster that my eyes have always been with vision to see on that late June morning.
When all the others have faded and by now well turned to fruit, this one single blossom how captivating, so powerful in its aloneness that it holds our attention when the others have long ago become, reviving our memory of what had come before balanced against a hope-vision of what is yet to be. We do not force this one to be like the others, to catch-up, to expect this one to become the biggest fruit on the tree but rather, we sit back in curiosity and with support equal to that which we have given the others, respond to the grace that it is by just surviving and simply being, and anticipate what it may become.
We know without proof of knowing, our hearts open to our discovery and God’s gift in that moment when our eyes were most open, that this flower of blossom as it comes to fruit in its own God Time and God Space, and mirrors the image God has pictured, that by observing its presence and doing nothing, we watched a miracle of its own discovery.
Janie
Above is an edited version of a longer story.
Appears in full, nonfiction spiritual novel, Dear Daisy by author, Jane Marla VerDow
http://www.risingsparrowpress.com/Bio.htm
http://www.risingsparrowpress.com/announce.htm
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)