R.I.P. Miss Barbara

On Sunday Frog Hollow lost one of its own, Miss Barbara Adkins, loving wife of Bernie. Barb suffered from several ailments, and most recently Bernie was driving to Cumberland everyday to see her where she received, essentially, hospice care after several strokes and heart problems. I last saw Barb in the pharmacy when she had last been released from the hospital; I'm so glad I got to give her a hug then and talk with her about the girls, whom she loved to see and hear about. She loved her family dearly, and having lost four of her own children too early, she and Bernie have been no strangers to Death's cruel hand. George spoke with Bernie last night; he misses her dearly and is obviously so upset. We will go see him and his family tonight at her viewing. Her obituary can be found here.
Rest in peace, Miss Barbara.

Another Detour

It looks like we will be sidetracked soon by another detour on our daily drives to town. An article in today's Herald Mail describes how our road will be closed in the spring at the Antietam Ironworks Bridge. This will call for a slightly longer route to school each morning on Mills Road, which just recently reopened after a five month closure. The Ironworks are currently owned by our friend Wayne McCrossin, who renovated the house and store about ten years ago. The second image was taken in the addition to the store, which overlooks the bridge to be restored in the spring.

Icicles

Nothing much to write about today, but just want to show off these magnificent icicles, which can be found across the rivers (right at the confluence) from Harpers Ferry on our road at the railroad bridge. They are a result of the spring waters from Maryland Heights. Awesome. And the girls are fascinated by them.

Hog Maw

Last night we traveled a whole 3/4 of a mile down to Frog Hollow proper to the Mullers' house for their annual Hog Maw feast and New Year's Day party. We had a great time -- our first time out of the house in a long time! Trish had the house decorated so beautifully, and everyone seemed to enjoy Sarah Grace and Sylvie's scampering among the crowd. The highlight of the evening, of course, was Jeff's presentation of the hog maw, a traditional Pennsylvania Dutch dish. I don't remember anyone but my step-grandmother, Millie Fuhrman, making this when I was young; my family tended to the pork and sauerkraut for New Year's Day. I do remember thinking it was gross -- stuffed pig stomach! Ewwww! But, no, Trish and Jeff have this dish down pat -- even Sylvie liked it! I wish I had taken a picture of theirs (there were at least three), but instead I'm attaching one from Flickr so you can see what it looks like. It's simply cubed potatoes and loose pork sausage stuffed in a cleaned pig stomach lining. PA German tradition is that if you don't even have a bite on New Year's Day, you'll have bad luck for the next year -- well, we ate our fill!

Hubert & Gladys

Today is the 84th wedding anniversary of my maternal great-grandparents, Hubert & Gladys Null. When I was a child, we celebrated New Year's Day by celebrating their anniversary, usually in a building on the Taneytown carnival grounds with a big potluck meal and entertainment provided by singing grandchildren (myself included).
I remember Papa (pronounced Pup-pa) and Grandma as a little old loving couple, but in their younger years they were a vibrant, strong farming pair.
Hubert grew up on his father's family farm -- Michael's Home -- and raised his family of four children there with Gladys. Hubert was a faithful man who dutifully contributed to Trinity Lutheran Church in Taneytown throughout his life. Gladys carried out her family's artistic gene (her father was the town's professional photographer and her brothers were both professional painters) by taking many photographs (especially of clouds) and playing the piano.
Both are remembered for their generosity and devotion to each other and their family.

Addicted to Ancestry.com

Anyone who has forked out the money to get a premium account at Ancestry.com is likely to know what I'm talking about here . . . -- there's something very satisfying about finding little tidbits about your family (or your husband's family, in my case). I get into this predicament about once a year -- usually over Christmas break -- when I have a little time on my hands. I've built a fairly nice couple of trees using both the Internet and our families' documents, which I've been gathering. I would link you right to our trees, but that's where Ancestry gets -- if you want to see the goods, you have to pay . . . I am happy to send you an invitation so that you can see - just send me your email address.
My favorites come from George's family so far; his kin seems to have the most colorful details -- the ones who lived right down here! My favorite name so far is Inez Dewdrop Otzelberger, a little tyke who only lived less than a month down here in Frog Hollow. My favorite story is actually quite morbid -- another Otzelberger - this time Charles Franklin. He is George's 3x great uncle (Dewdrop's brother). Here's the story of his death as told in the Herald Mail on Aug. 4, 1924:

Sunday Ends With Tragedy at a Resort

Charles Otzelberger, Holding Babe, Shot Down; Wilson Held

Tragedy marked the close of Sunday at Riverview Park, a dance resort near the settlement of Frog Hollow, about four miles from Sharpsburg, when Charles Otzelberger, aged 35, was shot and killed by James Wilson, the bullet being meant for John W. Zimmerman, it is said, with whom Wilson had trouble over a girl. Otzelberger was shot while holding his infant in his arms.

Otzelberger died a few hours later at the Washington County Hospital where surgeons attempted to remove the bullet, which passed through his abdomen. Wilson, who received a severe beating before he was subdued, was arrested and residents of that section brought him to Hagerstown. Warrants were swore out before Justice Bower charging Wilson with the shooting. A coroner's inquest will investigate the shooting at 3:30 o'clock this afternoon.

Zimmerman was talking to the girl in front of the dance hall and restaurant of E. W. Ewing when Wilson is said to have struck him a blow in the eye and, taking the girl by the arm, lead her into the restaurant.

Fired At Zimmerman

When the couple left the restaurant Zimmerman, who had waited outside, attacked Wilson and struck him a blow in the eye. Wilson is said to have whipped an automatic revolver from his pocket and fired at Zimmerman. The shot went wild and struck Otzelberger in the abdomen. His infant child fell from his arms. His wife, who was standing at his side at the time, fainted and had to be carried from the scene.

Wilson, according to witnesses, was about to discharge the weapon again when Zimmerman, his brother, C. S. Zimmerman, E. W. Ewing and Wilbur Ewing set upon him and succeeded in wrestling the weapon from his grasp.

Wilson suffered a severe beating at the hands of the men who placed him under arrest. It was necessary for him to have his injuries dressed and while this was being done at the office of Dr. W. B. Morrison, Wilson fainted. He was later taken to jail.

Wilson told Sheriff Duffey and officers working on the case that he didn't know why he shot, "was just jealous because he had the girl, I guess" he is said to have told officials at Police Headquarters.

Following the shooting Deputy Kaylor went to "Frog Hollow" to make an investigation of the affair. Evidence obtained by him is said to have substantiated the testimony of witnesses at Police Headquarters last night.

Authorities claim that Wilson was in possession of a quart bottle partly filled with moon-shine whiskey at the time of his arrest and of an automatic revolver of 38 calibre from which one shot is said to have been fired.

Besides his wife and child, Otzelberger is survived by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. George Otzelberger and several brothers and sisters.

This is the third murder case in Washington County in the past thirty days.

The picture is of Mary Catherine Gift Otzelberger, Inez and Charles' mother. Looks like she's holding a stick . . .

A Sister's Move

Today my sister and her husband are on a road trip headed to New Jersey and New York to check out prospects for a new home. Mike got a promotion and so they are headed northeast in January! I have spent the last week searching real estate sites for homes they might like; it's been cathartic for me to help.
Mike's office will be in Parsippany, NJ, but he actually will only have to go in once a month or so. He'll be training in NY and Conn. a lot, and so they are looking more north and west of that area. One of his bosses told him to look in the Warwick, NY, area, which looks like it has great schools.
It is highly unlikely that Lisa will be able to keep her job with Verizon, so she is looking forward to starting a new life as a stay-at-home mom and focusing more on her business Queen Baby Bean.
Today I'll be standing by Facebook and the phone to help them find some of the houses we've pinpointed; it's a good thing we didn't solidify vacation plans yet for this year -- looks like we'll be headed north instead of south, and we're excited for the change!

Kind of a White Christmas

This photo was taken on Dec. 20 during the Blizzard of 2009 -- we got nearly 2 feet out of it and 3 days off school, which meant that Sylvie's Christmas break started very early and we'll end up with 17 days straight of no school!

Christmas was a great one this year -- because of the blizzard, we missed our Ziegler Christmas at Lisa's, but we're rescheduling for this weekend. The Fuhrmans and Haskinses came here for Christmas Eve, and we all went back to the farm in Taneytown for our Null Christmas this year. It was wonderful to be back "home."

The lower photo is of my kids and Lisa's at Michael's Home, our family farm in Taneytown, MD. There was definitely leftover snow from the blizzard on Christmas morning, but the rain of the day and the rain and wind of that night made for a muddy, virtually snowless day on the 26th.

Shepherdstown provides . . .

Chips & Salsa from the brand new Maria's Taqueria

Sarah Grace's PB&J sandwich (w/no J) and fruit cup from Mellow Moods

Don't let this photo fool you: that long-haired beauty is in fact George, not me, and he is not watching our children. He is talking on the phone to Dr. Paul. In any case, these are the remnants of our picnic lunch at Shepherdstown's Morgan's Grove Park. We love it here - despite the gnats.

To Cut or Not to Cut

Deane & Jen Joyce are acquaintances of mine whose property is on the north side of Sharpsburg. Their story interests me for many reasons, one being that George has decided to let our own lawn grow upwards of 3 feet over the last few years. The Joyces' story is quite different from our own; Deane has done much research and extra work to make his property a deliberate native grassland. George's intentions are much more selfish; he is interested in spending a lot less time on the mower so that he can spend those four hours every other week with his family . . . er, on the bike . . . But that is not all, really. We have thought long and hard about the fact that mowing more than three acres like that puts a serious burden on our carbon footprint. We also do give the harvested hay to the farmer who cuts it -- a nice trade in the old ways. As for ticks, critters, etc., we have not seen any kind of increase in that regard -- that's noticeable to us in any case. Our dear neighbor Theresa hasn't said a word about the tall "weeds" that line the north side of her property; I hope that means she doesn't mind. As of last week the grasses are short again. Farmer Knight came and harvested the hay last weekend, and George has spent the better part of this weekend cleaning it up. He claims that he is going to keep the south side manicured for a perfect sledding hill this winter. We'll see if he can get back into his old mowing habits.

South County Kids

All six of these lovely children (here enjoying a July day at Catoctin Zoo) get the privilege of growing up within a mile of our little hollow. The Videttis, the McCrossins, and the Downins alike share what I think might just be one of the prettiest places on Earth. Tonight, while I sat on the driveway watching Sarah Grace play, I looked east out over our yard across to the other ridges. I was struck by the vibrant colors of the mountains and this July evening sky. Despite the relentless gnats, I love it here. The rugged landscape is so different from the rolling hills of Carroll County.

Playing on the Ridge

These photos were taken in March 2009, but easily could have been taken any day up here.
















The new sport here is 'leaf sledding!'

Evensong Farm

Julie Stinar of Evensong Farm is featured this weekend in an article in the Washington Post about women farmers. Julie's farm is down in the hollow on Burnside Bridge Road just south of Molly's Hole. I've bought some of her veggies before -- she always has interesting and extremely colorful produce, many of which I've never heard of. The commentators after the article accuse her of being an "urban transplant" and that may be true. But who cares? Why is that a bad thing? Unfortunately, so many of those who grew up around here or in Carroll County from where I come either didn't want to continue in their fathers' farming ways or just plain couldn't. Julie has figured out a way to bring farming back to that little homestead, and I for one enjoy the way she does it! She invests in the future of farming by utilizing college students for interns, and she has gotten several local restaurants to use her "almost organic" produce for their meals. Stone Soup Bistro is my favorite, and I'll continue to give them business as long as they use this local farmer as one of their sources.

Hogs and the Monsters That Eat Them

Today Sylvie saw a couple of steaks that our neighbor had given us thawing out on the counter (yes, I know I'm not supposed to thaw them there . . .). She yelled, "Blood!" and pushed me into the whole "meat is animal" conversation. "What! Are we monsters?!", she exclaimed. Well, yes, I suppose we are . . .
This got me thinking about all the things she eats without any knowledge at all. I decided not to go there today. But, for whatever reason, my mind jumped to our families' associations with hogs.
I grew up for the most part on my maternal grandparents' farm in Taneytown. It was a dairy farm, and besides cats and dogs, cows were pretty much the only livestock there. But my grandmother's parents were hog farmers, originally from Poolesville, who lived down the road. My great-granddaddy Charles Poole was an incredibly intimidating person, over 6 feet tall and generally grumpy. Apparently, he scared even my Papa when he was courting Grandma. Papa told the story of how once he was visiting their farm and helping out with butchering. He claimed that while working around the huge vats of cooking lard, Papa somehow lost his watch in the hot fat. In order to . . . to be finished tomorrow . . .

Twenty-one Years of Madness

Every year on a Saturday around Thanksgiving, hoards of impassioned runners take on 50 miles of our rugged landscape in a little race called the JFK Ultra-marathon. George's dad, Dave Downin, has participated in this event for the last 21 years, and for the last several we have been at the finish line to welcome him back from surviving the madness. This year he literally carried his Mount Lock Hill neighbor Bill Moore by the arm for the last 3 miles to ensure his finish. For years Bill had said he wanted to run the JFK, and this was the year Dave held him to his goal. Dave was part of the Herald Mail's feature series on some of this year's runners. Read one article here. Another short article was written just about Dave helping Bill finish. Find it here.
The JFK is the country's oldest ultramarathon and takes participants from Boonsboro to Williamsport across the Appalachian Trail and down the C&O Canal. It begins at George's old high school in Boonsboro and ends at my current school, Springfield Middle School. Locals have varying feelings about the race, but most seem to have a sense of pride about the event. Many of our friends claim they will some day run the marathon, but very few have followed through. A few years ago, George found himself in the race at the last minute. One of Dave's registered running buddies injured his knee just before the race, and Dave dared his son to run in his stead. George did, without one day of training (he figured his bike-riding would suffice), and indeed finished in over 12 hours. He was out of commission for a good three days in pain, but it is a feat on which he often brags. The best part of the story is that he ran the race in sneakers he found along Coastal Highway on a summer trip with the boys to Ocean City.
Next year we are quite sure Dave will make his twenty-second finish. He has recently retired and looks forward to more time to train.