Country Wines A Form of Folk Art, Recipes Were Not Always Written Down

1953 First Edition Hardcover in Good Condition; Found in Muskoka

THE GOOD OLD BOOKS THAT ARE FIT FOR ANY MODERN BOOK SHELF - AND IN MANY CASES, THEY HAVE A LOT MORE TO OFFER

1953 FIRST EDITION OF "COUNTRY WINES," BY MARY AYLETT - RECIPES OF OLD TIMES FOR A CONTEMPORARY TIME

     TO OPEN TODAY'S BLOG, I'M SO PROUD TO SAY, I HAD MY FIRST MORNING, DOING SOME OUTDOOR CHORES. GARBAGE DETAIL. YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT CRAP GETS BLOWN AND THROWN OUR WAY. IT'S JUST EXTRODINARY TO HAVE FULL SUN, AND NOT FEAR THE VERY NEXT HOUR WILL BRING SNOW FLURRIES. THE MOST IMPORTANT TASK? GATHERING UP MY NEIGHBOR'S SHREDDED NEWSPAPERS, THAT THE LOCAL SNOW BLOWING CREW, UNKINDLY SENT OUR WAY THROUGH THE EXIT CHUTE. I STILL HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO GET TO MY EVERGREENS, HOLDING MUCH OF THE SHREDDED REMAINS. MAYBE NEXT WEEK. I HAVE ALREADY FILLED A GARBAGE BAG WITH WET NEWSPAPERS TOSSED OVER THE PROPERTY LINE, SO WHILE BEING PLEASED TO SEE THE SPRING FLOWERS PUSHING UP THROUGH THE STILL FROZEN GROUND, I'M THRILLED TO HAVE OUR PROPERTY LOOK A LITTLE LESS LIKE THE TRANSFER STATION AT THE LANDFILL SITE. I ALSO HAD TO REPAIR FOUR BIRD HOUSES, TOPPLED OFF THEIR POSTS BY THE HEAVY SNOW. I'VE LOST TWO WOODEN POSTS IN THE YARD, THAT WE USED FOR SOLAR LIGHTS, AND NUMEROUS OTHER SUNDRY FIXTURES, THAT ARE NO MORE. THIS WINTER SCRAPED OVER MUSKOKA LIKE A GLACIER, SO MANY PROPERTY OWNERS ARE GOING TO HAVE A LOT OF CLEAN-UP TO CONTEND WITH, ONCE THEIR YARDS ARE SNOW FREE. THE PINES TOOK A REAL BEATING, ESPECIALLY AFTER THE PERIOD OF FREEZING RAIN, IN THE EARLY PART OF THE WINTER; THAT ALLOWED SO MUCH OTHER SNOW TO BUILD ON TOP. I'VE NEVER SEEN IT LIKE THIS BEFORE, AND OUR LILACS HAVE SUSTAINED SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE AS A DIRECT RESULT. NORMALLY, CLUMPING SNOW LASTS FOR ONLY A FEW DAYS IN THE TREE BOUGHS, AS THE WIND FREES IT UP. THIS YEAR, AFTER THE FREEZING RAIN, THE CLUMPS COULDN'T BE EASILY DISLODGED, THE SAME AS HOW IT PROTECTED SNOW ON THE ROOF. THE ICE DEFLECTED THE WIND, WHICH USUALLY SCULPTS-CLEAR THE ROOF HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW. NO SUCH LUCK IN 2014. EXTRA SNOW DIRECTED OUR WAY THIS WINTER, FROM SNOWBLOWING (I DON'T OWN ONE) NEARBY, COMPROMISED OUR TWO TEMPORARY STORAGE SHEDS, ONE REQUIRING EMERGENCY RESCUE A MONTH AGO, TO RELEASE THE ICE LOAD THAT DIDN'T COME NATURALLY. SO THIS WAS DAY ONE OF A HUNDRED MORE TO GO, TO, GUESS WHAT? GET READY FOR NEXT WINTER OF THE ROLLING ICE AGE. I'M GOING TO DESIGN A BARRIER TO CATCH THE NEWSPAPERS ON THE FLY, BEFORE THEY GET INTO MY TREES.
     WHEN I LIVED IN THE NAGY APARTMENTS, UP ON BURLINGTON'S HARRIS CRESCENT, ONLY A TWO MINUTE STROLL TO THE LAKESHORE, THERE WAS A HAUNTING HOUSE ON THE CORNER, WITH TORRANCE AVENE, OWNED THEN BY MRS. WHITE. IT WAS A VICTORIAN ERA HOUSE, WITH BEAUTIFUL FRUIT TREES AROUND THE PROPERTY. THERE WAS A FENCE AROUND THE HUGE CORNER YARD, AND A LONG, GREEN STORAGE BUILDING THAT FASCINATED ME. OF COURSE, EVERYTHING ABOUT HER PROPERTY WAS FASCINATING, AND EVEN THOUGH I WAS WARNED MANY TIMES, TO STAY AWAY FROM THE FENCE, MY CHUM BACK THEN, RAY GREEN, AND I, SIMPLY COULDN'T RESIST TRYING TO SEE WHAT WAS IN THAT SHED. WE HAD THIS IDEA, THAT MRS. WHITE KEPT CHILDREN IN THAT OUT-BUILDING, AND THAT WE COULD BE THE ONES WHO LIBERATED THEM. NOW FIRST OF ALL, MRS. WHITE WAS AN ELEGANT, OLDER WOMAN, WHO LOOKED VICTORIAN IN APPEARANCE, AND VERY MUCH APPRECIATED THE INTEGRITY OF HER PRIVACY. WE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT PRIVACY MEANT, TRUTH BE KNOWN. WE SIMPLY HAD TO INVESTIGATE WHY ALL THIS NEAT STUFF WAS BEHIND A FENCE WITH A LOCKED GATE.
     THE POINT OF MENTIONING THIS, IN A COLUMN ABOUT OLD BOOKS, IS THAT WHAT INFLUENCED ME BACK THEN, AT ABOUT SEVEN YEARS OF AGE, IS EXACTLY THE SAME TODAY. IF AT THIS MOMENT, I LIVED IN THE NAGY APARTMENT, WITH MY OLD FRIEND ANNE, THE LANDLORD, I WOULD STILL BE OVERWHELMED BY CURIOSITY, ABOUT WHAT WAS GOING ON IN THAT MYSTERIOUS SHED. RAY AND I DID GET OVER THAT WIRE FENCE, AND MRS. WHITE CAUGHT US; TWICE COME TO THINK OF IT. ONCE, ON A HASTY RETREAT, RAY GOT HIS PANTS CAUGHT UP ON A BARB IN THE WIRE, AND KIND OF DANGLED THERE WHILE MRS. WHITE YELLED AT HIM BUT NEVER RAISED A HAND, TO SMOKE-HIS ARSE WHEN SHE HAD THE CHANCE. I THINK ANNE NAGY CAME TO HIS RESCUE, BUT FOR ME, IT WAS A RESCUE I WOULD HAVE RATHER DONE WITH OUT. ANNE WAS FAR MORE REACTIONARY AND STRICT THAN MRS. WHITE. RAY AND I WERE NO STRANGERS TO TROUBLE, BUT ON THIS DAY, IT ALL CAME TOGETHER ON WHAT CAN ONLY BE DESCRIBED AS A SMALL LENGTH OF WIRE FENCING. WE HAD DISTURBED THE PRIVACY OF OUR NEIGHBOR, MRS. WHITE, TO SATISFY OUR CURIOSITY. THERE WERE NO CHILDREN KEPT IN THAT OLD SHED. JUST A BUNCH OF OLD THINGS. OLD FURNITURE. GADS, EVEN AT THIS AGE, BEING TOLD THAT THE ONLY ITEMS IN THE LONG GREEN SHED, WERE RELICS OF AN OLD HOMESTEAD, SEEMED EVEN MORE INTERESTING, THAN IF THERE HAD BEEN HUMAN STOCK KEPT INSIDE. I WAS PARTICULARLY ENTHUSED ABOUT OLD STUFF, AND AS MY MOTHER KNEW TOO WELL, I WAS ALWAYS HAULING FOUND ITEMS HOME. I NEVER CAME HOME FROM SCHOOL WITHOUT A POCKET FULL OF TREASURE-TO-ME. WELL, I WAS STRUCK BY THIS HUNT AND GATHER TRADITION, EARLY IN LIFE, SO IT'S BEEN WITH ME EVER SINCE. IT'S WHY I STILL GET EXCITED, OUT ON THE HUSTINGS, WHEN I CONTINUE TO FIND TREASURES, TO HAUL HOME; AND OF COURSE, SOME ITEMS FOR OUR SHOP.      YESTERDAY, A LITTLE BOOK SPOKE TO ME, LIKE MRS. WHITE'S SHED USED TO, AND AFTER INTRODUCING MYSELF AS A LOVER OF OLD BOOKS, WELL, WE BECAME GOOD CHUMS. I HAD SOME TIME YESTERDAY, TO READ A FEW CHAPTERS, AND I WAS ENTHRALLED. I WOULD LIKE TO SHARE THIS LITTLE HOMESPUN GEM WITH YOU, ON SUCH A FINE EASTER SUNDAY.
  
WHERE DO YOU GET THE RECIPES FOR COUNTRY WINES? OLD COOKBOOKS? HANDWRITTEN JOURNALS? OR WORD OF MOUTH?

     THE SMALL FORMAT, 1953 EDITION, IN HARDCOVER WITH DUSTJACKET, IS VALUED, BASED ON PRISTINE CONDITION, UP TO FIFTY DOLLARS, IN AMERICAN FUNDS. IT DECREASES IN VALUE IF THERE IS ANY DAMAGE, SUCH A STAINS, RIPPED PAGES, DAMAGED SPINE AND CLOTH-COVERED BOARDS. IN THE CASE OF THIS LITTLE BOOK, SOME FORMER OWNER, WHO WAS POSSIBLY GIVING THE BOOK AS A GIFT, CUT-OFF A SMALL PORTION OF THE DUSTJACKET, ON THE INSIDE-FRONT, TO REMOVE THE BOOK'S PRICE TAG. IT TAKES A SMALL PORTION OF THE VALUE OFF, AS DO TWO SMALL STAINS, AND SOME SCUFFING OF THE DUSTJACKET AROUND THE EDGES. OVERALL, WITH A CLEAN TEXT, AND LOOKING WELL CONSERVED, THIS HANDSOME LITTLE BOOK WILL BE LISTED FOR FIFTEEN DOLLARS. WHAT IT POSSESSES IN CHARACTER, IS ALL WITHIN ITS EDITORIAL COPY. IF YOU'VE NEVER THOUGHT MUCH ABOUT THE ISSUE OF "COUNTRY WINE," THEN YOU PROBABLY HAVEN'T SPENT TOO MUCH TIME WORRYING ABOUT THE PRESERVATION OF OLD FOLK SONGS, OR FOLK ART. THE RECIPES IN THIS BOOK, ARE MUCH LIKE FOLK SONGS, BECAUSE SO MUCH IS BASED ON TRADITION, PASSED ON TO THE NEW GENERATION, ON AND ON THROUGH THE AGES. THE RECIPES ARE ALTERED AND ENHANCED TO SUIT THE MODERN TASTE, BUT AS WAS THE CASE, BACK IN 1953, VERY FEW OF THESE WINE MAKERS, IN THEIR HUMBLE ABODES, WORRIED ABOUT COPYING DOWN THE RECIPE FOR THE POSTERITY OF OTHERS. BUT, IN A SMALL WAY, THIS WAS ADDRESSED BY MARY AYLETT, IN THIS FASCINATING LITTLE STUDY, PUBLISHED BY ODHAM'S PRESS OF ENGLAND. THE BOOK DID GO INTO LATER REPRINT. IT IS A TIMELESS PIECE, IN REALITY, AND ONE THAT WILL FIT INTO 2014, JUST AS IT DID IN 1953, WHEN IT FIRST ARRIVED ON BOOKSHELVES.
     "THE IDEA FOR THE BOOK ORIGINATED IN THE AUTHOR'S PERSONAL QUEST FOR WINE RECIPES, WITH WHICH TO UTILIZE THE PRODUCE OF HER HUSBAND'S WELL KNOWN VINE-YARD IN KENT. AS SHE BECAME MORE INTERESTED, MARY AYLETT BEGAN TO WRITE DONW AND COLLECT THE RECIPES THAT SHE GATHERED FROM VARIOUS NINETEENTH-CENTURY BOOKS, HAND-WRITTEN COOKERY BOOKS, AND ABOVE ALL, BY WORD OF MOUTH FROM COUNTRY FOLK THEMSELVES. IT IS THIS VERY EXTENSIVE COLLECTION OF RECIPES FOR TRADITIONAL COUNTRY WINES, INCLUDING MANY THAT HAVE NEVER BEFORE BEEN PUBLISHED, THAT FORMS THE SOLID BASIS FOR THIS UNUSUAL AND DELIGHTFUL BOOK." SO NOTES THE INSIDE FLAP OF THE DUSTJACKET. NOW, WHAT DOES MARY AYLETT HAVE TO SAY ON THE SUBJECT?
     "BY FAR THE GREATER NUMBER OF THE RECIPES WERE COLLECTED AT THE BACK DOORS OF LITTLE COTTAGES, OR FROM OLD, OFTEN HANDWRITTEN COOKERY BOOKS, AND FROM MEN WHO REMEMBERED ONLY THAT THEIR MOTHERS USED TO MAKE SOME ESPECIALLY FAVOURED WINE. IN SUCH CASES EXPERIMENT HAD TO SUPPLY THE DEFICIENCY. I DO NOT SUPPOSE THAT I SHALL EVER KNOW THE NAME OF THE OLD FARM LABOURER, WHO ONCE LEANED OVER MY GARDEN GATE, ONE SUNNY DAY, WHEN I WAS PICKING MY RED-CURRANTS, AND SAID: 'MY OLD MOTHER USED TO MAKE LOVELY PARSNIP WINE,' BUT I AM GRATEFUL TO HIM NONE THE LESS. HE TOLD ME, NOT ONLY HER RECIPE, BUT HOW TO MAKE IT CLEAR AND SPARKLING. MISS FISHER, OF SHOTTENDEN, WHO GAVE ME FOUR LARGE STONE JARS, AND LENT ME THE BOOK IN WHICH, FOR MORE THAN HALF A CENTURY, SHE HAD COLLECTED RECIPES, WRITTEN IN A LABORIOUS, UNLEARNED HAND, HAS BEEN UNDER THE BEECH TREES IN THE VILLAGE CHURCHYARD, THESE MANY YEARS.  SHE WAS A LITTLE DISORDERED IN HER MIND FOR SOME TIME BEFORE SHE DIED, AND HER FAMILY SAID THAT, POOR SOUL, IT WAS A BLESSED RELEASE; BUT TO ME IT WAS A DISASTER, FOR SHE WAS A FAMOUS WINE-MAKER, AND SHE WAS GONE ALMOST BEFORE I HAD BEGUN MY OWN EXPERIMENTS.
     "THEN THERE IS AN OLD GENTLEMAN, LIVING AT DOVER, WHO CARES NOTHING FOR THE WORLD, AND WITH WHOSE NAME I HESITATE TO TAKE, WHAT I FEEL HE WOULD REGARD AS A LIBERTY. HE IS RATHER AN AWESOME OLD MAN AND HIS VIEWS UPON MODERN LIFE ARE DECIDED, AND A LITTLE HARSH. HE WOULD RATHER POTTER FOR AN HOUR OR TWO IN HIS CELLAR THAN WATCH THE FINEST SHOW ON EARTH. WHEN NEXT YOU DRIVE TO DOVER ON THE LONDON ROAD, YOU WIL PASS A ROW OF INCONSPICUOUS MID-VICTORIAN HOUSES, COMFORTABLE, WELL-TO-DO, AND DULL, BUT ONE OF THEM HIDES A SECRET. IF YOU WERE TO MOUNT THE GREY CONVENTIONAL FRONT-DOOR STEPS, TO RING THE BELL AND TO BE ADMITTED, YOU WOULD FIND AN ENVIRONMENT VASTLY DIFFERENT FROM THE ONE YOU HAD EXPECTED. ABOUT A CENTURY AGO, WHEN THE BUILDER OF THE ROW OF RESPECTABLE FAMILY RESIDENCES, WAS ABOUT HIS BUSINESS, ONE HOUSE THREATENED TO DESTROY THE UNIFORMITY OF THE TERRACE. IT WAS A FINE OLD JACOBEAN HOUSE, AND ITS OWNER REFUSED TO ALLOW IT TO BE PULLED DOWN, BUT, BEING A MAN OF HIS TIME, HE SYMPATHIZED WITH THE BUILDER'S DESIRE FOR SYMMETRY, AT ALL COSTS. SO THE VICTORIAN FACADE WAS MOUNTED ON TO THE OLD AND LOVELY HOUSE; THE BUILDER WAS SATISFIED, AND THE OWNER, HIS SON'S SON, HAVE LIVED THERE EVER SINCE. THERE WAS A LITTLE DAMAGE DURING THE LATE WAR, BUT IT WAS NOT SERIOUS. ACROSS THE THRESHOLD OF THIS INTERESTING HOUSE, ONE ENTERS ANOTHER WORLD. BENEATH THE OLD PANELLED ROOMS, LIE COMMODIOUS CELLARS, AND THEY ARE NOT EMPTY AND NEGLECTED, AS ARE SO MANY OF THEIR KIND TODAY. THEY ARE FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH BARRELS, BOTTLES, HOGSHEADS, FIRKINS, DEMI FIRKINS AND CASKS, MANY OF THEM, BY THEIR APPEARANCE, AS OLD AS THE HOUSE ITSELF. THE WINES ARE ALL OF THE OLD GENTLEMAN'S OWN BREWING, FOR HE GAVE UP BUYING FROM ABROAD MANY YEARS AGO, WHEN HE QUALITY OF IMPORTED WINES FELL BELOW WHAT HE WAS PREPARED TO TOLERATE. SOME OF HIS BREWS ARE THIRTY YEARS OLD, AND TASTING THEM IS AN EXPERIENCE THAT DOES NOT OFTEN COME ONE'S WAY IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. THEY WERE MADE FOR LOVE AND NOT FOR TRADE."
     ACCORDING TO MARY AYLETT, AUTHOR OF THIS WONDERFUL BOOK, "MANY OF MY RECIPES WERE FOUND IN UNLIKELY PLACES. THE ONE FOR MARROW RUM CAME FROM A MUSIC TEACHER AT A HIGH SCHOOL. SHE CAME FROM LINCOLNSHIRE, WHERE SHE ASSURED ME IT WAS ONCE MADE IN EVERY COTTAGE, THOUGH SHE HAD NOT TASTED ANY FOR YEARS. MR. JARRY, A DISTINGUISHED ENTOMOLOGIST, ONCE CAME TO SEE US ABOUT THE DEATH-WATCH BEETLE IN OUR BEAMS, AND STAYED TO TELL ME ABOUT THE MEAD HIS MOTHER MADE IN SUFFOLK, FROM THE HONEY FROM HER BEES. TREACLE WINE I GOT FROM AN OLD REPRORBATE IN OUR VILLAGE, WHO WAS OFTEN SEEN IN A STATE OF ALMOST INDECENT HILARITY, IN THE DAYS WHEN THE 'LOCAL' WAS SOMETIMES CLOSED FOR A WEE, ON ACCOUNT OF SHORTAGE OF SUPPLIES DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR. I REMEMBER, TOO, THE MIRTH THAT WAS PROVOKED WHEN A SMART LONDON TRAVELLER, PAID A POUND A BOTTLE FOR WHAT HE THOUGHT WAS EXCELLENT WHISKY, THINKING IT TO HAVE BEEN WORTH MUCH MORE, AND THAT HE WAS 'PUTTING ONE OVER,' ON THE YOKELS,. IT WAS TEN YEAR-OLD DANDELION WINE.
     "IT IS AMONG SUCH SCENES AND FROM SUCH PEOPLE THAT THE FOLLOWING COLLECTION OF RECIPES HAS BEEN MADE. MOST OF THEM ARE VERY OLD; MANY OF THEM HAVE NOT BEEN PRINTED BEFORE; THEY ARE IN THE REAL TRADITION OF FOLK ART. A STUDY OF OLD COOKERY BOOKS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM WAS REMARKABLY UNFRUITFUL. THE MAKERS OF COUNTRY WINES WERE EITHER COTTAGERS OR BUSY LADIES, OF THE MANOR, BREWING THEM ALONG WITH THE BEERS, POTIONS AND POSSETS OF THE STILL ROOMS. COOKERY BOOKS OF ALL PERIODS UNTIL THE NINETEENTH CENTURY DEAL MOSTLY IN UNUSUAL RECIPES TO GRACE MY LORD'S TABLE; THEY WERE TOO COSTLY TO BE BOUGHT BY HUMBLE PEOPLE, WHO HAD TO RELY ON MEMORY AND TRADITION FOR THEIR KNOWLEDGE. HOW MUCH HAS BEEN LOST, OF COURSE, WE CAN NEVER KNOW. COUNTRY WINES WERE SIMPLY MADE, BY SIMPLE PEOPLE, WORKING WITH THE ORDINARY EQUIPMENT IN THEIR HOMES. THEY KNEW NOTHING OF SCIENCE, BUT TOOK WHAT NATURE PROVIDED AND FERMENTED IT IN NATURE'S WAY. USUALLY IT WAS GOOD; NOW AND AGAIN, 'SOMETHING WENT WRONG WITH IT,' THEN THEY PROBABLY CURSED A LITTLE AND THREW IT AWAY. THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN NO HAPPIER EMPLOYING SCIENTIFIC METHODS, WHICH ENSURE THAT THOUGH THE WINE IS NEVER BAD, IT IS NEVER VERY GOOD EITHER. OUR ANCESTORS WERE SPARED THE MONOTONY THAT AFFLICTS US, AND THEY MADE SOME WONDERFUL WINES. IF ANYONE DOUBTS THE POTENCY OF THE BREWS LET HIM HEED THE FOLLOWING CAUTIONARY TALE. WHEN I WAS YOUNG, AND NEWLY MARRIED, MY HUSBAND AND I MOVED FROM LONDON TO A SMALL VILLAGE IN THE HOME COUNTIES. WE REGARDED THE VILLAGE AND ITS INHABITANTS AS IF THEY WERE PART OF A CHARMING, STYLIZED COMEDY, AMIABLE RUSTICS, RURAL INNOCENTS. WE WERE, AFTERALL, VERY YOUNG."
     "ONE FINE SUNDAY MORNING, IN SPRING, WE WERE CROSSING THE VILLAGE GREEN ON OUR RETURN FROM A LONG RAMBLE, WHEN WE MET A MAN WHOSE ACQUAINTANCE WE HAD ALREADY MADE, ON SOME SMALL MATTER CONNECTED WITH OUR NEW HOUSE. HE WAS A RETIRED POLICEMAN, AND AFTER THE USUAL EXCHANGE OF COMMENTS UPON THE WEATHER, HE INVITED US TO STEP INTO HIS SMALL ROSE-CLAD COTTAGE, TO MEET HIS WIFE, AND TO TRY HER COWSLIP WINE. WE WERE CHARMED AND AT ONCE ACCEPTED. THE COWSLIP WINE PROVED TO BE EXCELLENT, AND THE GOOD LADY APPEARED TO BE DELIGHTED WITH OUR APPROVAL AND PRODUCED SPECIMENS OF MANY MORE FOR OUR TASTING. WE TRIED THEM ALL WILLINGLY; POTATOE WINE, DAMSON PORT, ELDERBERRY AND RASPBERRY AND MANY MORE. WE CONSIDERED OURSELVES TO BE SOPHISTICATED DRINKERS, AS WAS THE FASHION IN THE BLOOMSBURY OF TWENTY YEARS AGO; THE WINES HAD NO 'KICK,' AND WE THOUGHT OURSELVES QUITE SAFE IN MIXING SO MANY SO FREELY. INTERESTED AND ENTERTAINED BY THE AMUSING TALES OF VILLAGE LIFE AND BY THE LIGHT AND DELICATE WINES, ONLY THE OPENING OF THE CHURCH DOORS REMINDED US THAT WE HAD YET A MILE TO GO BEFORE REACHING OUR HOME FOR LUNCHEON. WE THEN TOOK A POLITE FAREWELL OF OUR HOST AND HOSTESS AND STEPPED OUT ON TO THE GREEN; THEN WE REALIZED THAT WE HAD BEEN INDEED, DRINKING ALCOHOL. WITH CONCERN WE GAZED AT EACH OTHER'S WAVERING OUTLINES, AND WERE OBLIGED TO CLING TOGETHER FOR SUPPORT AND TO MAKE OUR WAY ACROSS THE GRASS IN FULL VIEW OF THE MOST RESPECTABLE PEOPLE IN THE DISTRICT, FROM WHOM OUR CONDITION COULD NOT BE DISGUISED. MOST OF THE BEST PEOPLE NEVER RECOVERED FROM THEIR FIRST SHOCKED SIGHT OF THE NEW TENANTS OF HONEYSUCKLE COTTAGE, BUT THE POLICEMAN AND HIS WIFE NO DOUBT ENJOYED THE JOKE."
     THE AUTHOR NOTES, "THIS OLD COUPLE WERE GREAT PROFICIENT, BUT THEY GAVE NO SECRETS AWAY. FROM THEM I LEARNT NOTHING BUT CAUTION, BUT IT WAS A VALUABLE LESSON. COUNTRY WINES VARY MUCH IN STRENGTH AND POTENCY, ACCORDING TO THE CONDITION OF THE FRUITS, THEIR MATURITY AND THE ABILITY OF THE MAKER, BUT EVEN THE MOST DYNAMIC NEVER PRODUCE A HANGOVER. THAT IS A PRODUCT OF SCIENCE; IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ART OF WINE-MAKING, WHICH YIELDS ONLY MIRTH AND GOOD HUMOUR, TWO COMMODITIES WHICH IN THIS AGE ARE IN SADLY SHORT SUPPLY. I FEEL, THEN, THAT IT IS TIME TO SAVE WHAT IS LEFT OF SUCH A SIMPLE, VALUABLE AND ONCE WIDELY PRACTICED ART, WHICH CAN BE A SOURCE OF INNOCENT PLEASURE TO ALL; A WHOLESOME ADDITION TO A WOEFULLY DEPLETED DIET, AND NEW STIMULUS TO A SADLY WANING HOSPITALITY."
     IN TOMORROW'S BLOG, "WAYS AND MEANS," WE'LL START OFF WITH THIS BASIC IDEA: "THERE ARE ALMOST AS MANY WAYS OF MAKING WINE AS THERE ARE PEOPLE TO ATTEMPT IT; HARD AND FAST RULES ARE IMPRACTICAL AND UNNECESSARY. IF WINE CANNOT BE MADE ONE WAY, TRY ANOTHER; IF PART OF THE EQUIPMENT IS TOO COSTLY, OR SOME INGREDIENT NOT AVAILABLE, IF ONE PROCESS TAKES MORE TIME THAN YOU HAVE AT YOUR DISPOSAL, THERE IS ALWAYS AN ALTERNATIVE. A DETERMINED BUT CAREFUL WINE-MAKER CAN USE THE MOST UNLIKELY IMPLEMENTS AND GET AWAY WITH IT, PROVIDED A FEW SIMPLE RULES, WHICH WILL BE DEALT WITH IN THE NEXT CHAPTER." MORE TOMORROW. IF BY THE WAY, YOU WOULD LIKE TO GET A COPY OF THIS BOOK, THERE ARE QUITE A FEW AVAILABLE CURRENTLY, IN THE BOOK SHOP COLLECTIVE, KNOWN AS THE ADVANCE BOOK EXCHANGE, OR (ABE). ALL YOU HAVE TO DO, WHEN ON THE SITE, IS TO TYPE IN THE AUTHOR'S NAME AND THE TITLE OF THE BOOK, AND YOU WILL BE PRESENTED WITH A LISTING OF ALL THE OLD BOOK SELLERS, WHO ARE OFFERING THIS PARTICULAR TEXT. YOU CAN READ IN THE DESCRIPTION, ALL ABOUT THE CONDITION OF THE BOOK, AND WHETHER IT IS A FIRST EDITION OR REPRINT. WE PURCHASE BOOKS FROM "ABE" DEALERS, AND HAVE BEEN SATISFIED WITH THE SERVICE AND QUALITY OF BOOKS, WHEN RECEIVED.
     I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING A NICE EASTER WEEKEND. IT'S JUST SO DARN NICE TO SEE THE SUN, AND FEEL IN WARMING THE BROW, THAT HAS BEEN HAT-COVERED SINCE DECEMBER. THERE IS STILL A MOUNTAIN OF SNOW HERE, AND IT WILL BE ANOTHER TWO WEEKS OF THIS KIND OF WEATHER, FOR THE CANOPY TO MELT AWAY. THIS SPRING, AS LATE AS IT IS, AND AS MUCH DAMAGE AS WE'RE GOING TO FIND OUT THERE, (WHEN IT FINALLY MELTS AWAY) IT WILL BECOME KNOWN AS THE MONTHS OF RECOVERY. I WONDER IF THE LILACS WILL BLOOM ON TIME, AT THE END OF MAY, OR WILL WE HAVE TO WAIT A COUPLE OF EXTRA WEEKS. THESE ARE THE LILACS WE BROUGHT WITH US FROM WINDERMERE, WHEN WE MOVED TO GRAVENHURST IN THE FALL OF 1989. I'D SURE HATE TO LOSE THEM.


FROM THE ARCHIVES

WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR AS A BUDDING ANTIQUE COLLECTOR?

ARE THERE REALLY PARANORMAL ATTACHMENTS TO OLD STUFF?

THERE ARE TWO TYPES OF COLLECTING I PURSUE. THE FIRST, HAS NO REAL EXPLANATION BEHIND IT. THE SECOND IS WHAT I COLLECT FOR PROFIT.

WHEN I BEGAN COLLECTING AS A KID, BACK IN THE EARLY 1960'S, THERE WAS NO CASH INTEREST WHATSOEVER. I WAS BORN A COLLECTOR. I WAS SELECTIVE IN MY "PICKING" BUT WHAT I ARRIVED HOME WITH, ALWAYS HAD A KNOWN OR HIGHLY SUSPECTED PROVENANCE. EXCEPT OF COURSE ANY MONEY I FOUND ALONG THE WAY TO AND FROM SCHOOL. IF I CAME HOME FROM THE ARENA, WITH A BROKEN HOCKEY STICK, A PIECE OF EQUIPMENT, PUCK OR SWEATER REMNANT, I COULD ALSO TELL MY MOTHER WHO IT HAD BELONGED TO, WHAT GAME IT HAD BEEN USED IN, AND THAT IT WOULD REMIND ME OF MY TIME SPENT HAUNTING THE ARENA. FIRST IN BURLINGTON, ONTARIO, AND THEN BRACEBRIDGE. I WAS TOO BIG A KID TO HAUNT THE GRAVENHURST ARENA, ALTHOUGH I DID PLAY A LOT OF HOCKEY IN THE OLD RINK NEAR THE FORMER RUBBERSET PLANT. I USED TO ROLLER SKATE THERE WITH MY GIRLFRIEND LINDA, THEN GAIL (BOTH TERRIFIC SKATERS). BUT I DIGRESS. IF AN ITEM DIDN'T "SPEAK TO ME," THEN IT DIDN'T GET TUCKED UNDER MY ARM. IT MIGHT BE SOMETHING REALLY NEAT, BUT I NEEDED MORE FROM A SINGULAR PIECE. IT WAS HOW I BEGAN. I HAD TO HAVE A STORY BEHIND THE PIECE I PLANNED ON KEEPING. I WASN'T AN APPRENTICE ANTIQUE DEALER, JUST A GAD-ABOUT KID, WHO SAW A SPARKLE IN CAST-OFF PIECES THAT OTHERS MISSED.

FIFTY YEARS LATER, AND I'M STILL DOING THE SAME THING OUT ON THE ANTIQUE HUSTINGS. THERE ARE THOSE THINGS OBVIOUSLY WORTH BUYING TO FLIP, AND THERE ARE OTHER PIECES THAT COMMAND ATTENTION……AND HAVE AN ATTACHED PROVENANCE I CAN'T GET PAST. SUZANNE IS A VERY ASTUTE VINTAGE FABRIC AND SEWING ANTIQUITY COLLECTOR, GOOD WITH OLD GLASS AND CHINA. SHE WILL PAY MUCH MORE FOR A QUILT, FOR EXAMPLE, THAT HAS A FAMILY HERITAGE ATTACHED. KNOWLEDGE OF WHO MADE IT, WHERE DID IT COME FROM, WHO HAS OWNED IT OVER THE YEARS, AND WHY IS IT FOR SALE. WE GET MANY OF THESE FROM ESTATE SALES, WHERE WE CAN ASCERTAIN MUCH OF THE INFORMATION THAT IS IMPORTANT TO THE LEGACY OF THE SUBJECT PIECE. FOR ME, SHE HAS WATCHED MY TRANCE-LIKE STATE, DEVELOP MANY TIMES, IN SHOPS AND AT ANTIQUE MALLS, ESTATE SALES AND AUCTIONS. AND IT WILL GENERALLY BE THE CASE, THE COLLECTOR "ME" HAS BEEN TURNED ON BY SOME CURIOUS ASPECT OF THE ITEM. ONCE AGAIN, THE "FOR PROFIT" SIDE, IS A NO-TRANCE KIND OF ACQUISITION. I'VE BEEN IN THE ANTIQUE TRADE LONG ENOUGH, TO KNOW EXACTLY WHEN A PRICE FOR AN OLD PIECE IS A BARGAIN, AND THE ROUTINE IS ALWAYS THE SAME. IF I THINK IT'S A PIECE TO BUY, SO WILL THE OTHER FIFTY DEALERS BEHIND ME. SO WE SCOOP THOSE MONEY-MAKERS UP FAST, BECAUSE THAT'S BUSINESS. AS FAR AS THE SPECIAL ANTIQUES, THAT I HAVE STOPPED IN MY TRACKS TO STUDY, I GUARANTEE YOU…….THERE IS NO CHANCE OF YOU INVADING MY SPACE……JUST SO THAT YOU KNOW. I PUT MY FOOTBALL AND HOCKEY SKILLS TO WORK HERE, AND UNLESS YOU WANT TO GET BODY-CHECKED, I'M GOING TO TAKE MY TIME RESEARCHING ON-THE-FLY.

I can identify thousands of pieces that fit this category of antique and collectible. As I wrote about in a previous blog, some pieces carry a little extra provenance with them, that many won't see or feel……such as the antique cradle I noted, that some past owners claim, rocks by itself. The story here, is that it belonged to a little girl, killed in a house fire. The cradle and doll survived, and she continues to rock it, as if she was alive. In many cultures, and beliefs, (some religions obviously), there are pieces that because of color, material composition, design, purpose, and symbolism, are sought out by collectors and decorators, for the energy they possess, and radiate throughout the home etc. It's not just me who finds the energy in certain antique pieces. While the rocking cradle is an extreme, a lot of handcrafted pieces, are keenly sought because they possess something unique and positive, such that it is an "uplifting and a spiritual enhancement" to be in their presence. When I write about my own feelings of what I call a "hitch-hiker" piece, with a little paranormal riding along, there are folks who, understandably, think I'm the "nutter on the bus", or off, as the case may be. Consider, for example, Feng Shui and Chi concepts, spiritually liberated and positive houses, and their interiors, with a free flow of energy, and pieces that promote this; antique furnishings and decorations with established provenance, that inspire good feelings, are considered very sensible acquisitions as positive energy decor. No nutters here. Now when I suggest a piece may have a little paranormal hue to the patina, I get crazy looks.

It was a similar situation, in a North American adaptation, promoted by Orson Fowler's octagonally designed homes, which it was thought, would perform somewhat the same, with the flow of internal energy…..efficiencies, and home economy. Slightly similar to the energies believed associated with the pyramid. Toronto Maple Leafs former coach, Red Kelly, used to have a small model pyramid, for the player's box, back in the 1970's, to generate good fortune. It didn't work. A of stuff hasn't worked for the Leafs. The museum I helped establish, in Bracebridge, known as Woodchester Villa, is one of the few Fowler designed buildings still in existence, and having spent many years connected with the octagon, which was also known as the "Bird House," after its builder, Woolen Mill founder, Henry Bird, the house was definitely peculiar in many ways. And it most certainly has been considered one of the town's most haunted houses.

When I'm on an antique gad-about, I'm being constantly bombarded by sensations and impulses. It's a combination of many years of experience in the trade, a considerable amount of knowledge acquired, and the strange impulses that draw me to certain pieces, for reasons that have little to do with antique value. I don't believe these are all hitch-hiker influenced items, but some are. Now I'm no clairvoyant or a medium, and have no inclination to become one or the other as a profession. I will however, use what ever capability I've been blessed with, to find the reasons why a painting, a doll, teddy bear, Bible, or rocking horse beckons me closer. I don't always buy these pieces, but I know that before long, someone will feel exactly the same, and wind up, for reasons unknown, feeling compelled to buy it. As I do research on the paranormal, and very much believe in the ability to communicate with those who have passed, I'm a real treat to be with, because I'm quirky beyond your wildest expectation. While many psychics etc., can see auras attached to people they meet, I sense them in a very profound way. If I leave you in a hurry, it's nothing personal, just electrical. Our auras just didn't appreciate each other's company. You may say, "I don't like that guy, and I don't know why," well, I do. I might not see your aura, but I'll feel it, without question. I will either wish to chat at great length, or bid you farewell sooner than later. The same goes for certain antique, especially vintage clothing dripping of a former owner's aura. I've been repelled by antique pieces as well. Can you detect someone else's aura? Are you afraid to admit it? Many people can, but will never tell you about their gift.

At Woodchester Villa, many, many guests were turned off by the vintage taxidermy display, of regional birds, ironically owned by Henry Bird Sr., and wouldn't stay in the dining room for any length of time to look over the fine silver and beautiful furnishings; offering no more than a cursory glance around. I was fascinated by the bird display, and I would definitely have purchased it for my own archives. The upstair child's bedroom also repelled many people, who sensed death lurking within. On purpose, we used to set out toys as if the children were still there to play with them, and with the dark wood finish on the furnishings, and the Victorian trimmings, it looked as if it was a sanctuary for ghosts. We kept track, one summer, how many visitors refused to enter the room, or dawdle at the doorway. It worked out to about one in ten visitors, who beat a hasty retreat. No matter what we did, the room just didn't look all that inviting. Many said it was a "sad" room. As far as the ghost activity in the house, much did occur around that little bedroom on the second floor. I guess that the folks who found the room "occupied" were quite perceptive to the spirit-kind. It didn't help that we had a huge hair wreath, hung nearby, which had been made as a memorial to a deceased relative, from the collected hair of family members. Did you ever hear of a "hair receiver" part of a woman's dresser-set? That's where the ladies took hair from their combs, after brushing, and deposited it through the hole in the lid…….to be used for some hair related project down the proverbial road. Talk about haunted. I'd love to have a hair wreath, but then this is my preference. The ultimate provenance short of having a mummified body in the parlor. What you may believe to be weird and possessed, is likely so, by my standard, and personally, I hope you won't buy the very next hair wreath you find……leaving it for me, coming behind.

I have many pieces at Birch Hollow, and have possessed many over a lifetime (some have been sold off, after years of appreciation), that have an undeniable provenance to me. Some have belonged to people I've known and respected, some who mentored me in the antique trade, and as associate writers; some we have continued to own, and carefully conserved for a future generation, with the provenance intact. The legacy of the piece preserved, from what we have been made aware of, by former owners…..when we made the original purchase. If and when we do sell these special pieces, we always pass on whatever provenance we possess, and I have to tell you, this is our most exciting, memorable time in the business of buying and selling antiques.

A believe it or not moment for me, was when I happened upon a nondescript cardboard box, ripped at the corners, on an upper shelf at the local Re-Store on Muskoka Beach Road. I was drawn to this little alcove because of something else, which in fact, was the second time I had looked at the wooden hanger with the Canadian National imprinted on the side. The day before I thought about investing a buck, as it was a legitimate bit of Canadian National Railway history. Just a hanger, but railway memorabilia has a large following of collectors. The second time around, I decided to make the purchase. I would look at this particular alcove about one ever twenty visits, as it usually has bathroom hardware on it, or something less interesting. So when I picked up the wooden clothes hanger, I hit my head on a flap of the cardboard box on the shelf above. I couldn't see inside…..as I am a little height-challenged. I must see in all boxes. It's a rule. My family of collectors also knows the rule. You'd be surprised what you can miss, by not being nosey. Here's a prime example.

So when I rose on my tippy-toes, I read on the flap of the box, that inside were old metal letters from a former business, situated on Dominion Street, in Bracebridge. I brought the box down to a lower shelf, for a peak inside. Geez, I nearly yelled out loud. Suzanne, in these cases, runs the opposite way. I embarrass her all the time. The letters in that box belonged to the former Herald-Gazette building, at 27 Dominion Street. On the day I dropped a resume off, at that building, in the autumn of 1978, I touched those letters, beside the door (mounted on the white stucco), for good luck. I was applying for a reporter's position with The Herald-Gazette. I didn't get the job then, but I did a few months later, when another job in editorial was posted. When I went into that office, the first time, as a staff member, I touched those letters again. The last time I touched them, other than this day at the Re-Store, was when I extended a finger to a managerial overseer I loathed……and never returned. The paper soon went out of business. The building had been sold quite a while before the paper's collapse, so I have no idea who removed, and held onto the cut iron letters. But by golly they were mine now! If ever I've had something providential occur, and for me to feel that life is truly full of mysterious circumstance, and coincidence, I have to tell you, this was substantial evidence…….that someone, beyond this plain, wanted me to get those letters. Here's why!

I adored my editorial position at The Herald-Gazette, and there was never a moment as editor, that I wasn't overjoyed to be at the helm. It was the most competitive period The Herald-Gazette ever had, in the bitter rivalry of competing community newspapers, in the 1980's. When my eldest son Andrew, was born, I was able to negotiate a work arrangement from home, which was just down the street. I was a Mr. Mom and it was the best job I've ever had. And I worked this way with two boys, and wrote like a madman when afforded a break in the action. But being absent from the editor's chair, made me vulnerable on a day to day basis. I was being eclipsed, even though I was writing more copy and better feature stories. It was a great idea but mine was a position that required hustling on the job. The competition for my job was too much to defend against, with a kid in each arm. But truth is, the sacrifice was worth it, and my life was definitely enhanced being close to those young lads. All the while, I never gave up writing……which I'm sure some of my adversaries thought was inevitable. When I pulled some of these old iron letters out of the box, it was as if I had attained a small, symbolic victory over some really nasty circumstances, that for awhile, did make me question whether I should quit writing altogether. Handling them in the store, well, I was bubbling and babbling, but pretty sure about one thing……they were coming home with me. If they had been priced ten times higher, they would have been coming home with me. The real interesting thing about this? With the number of Muskoka nostalgia collectors, interior decorators, and dealers who roam that store every day, the odds of me getting to them first were outrageously high. But the lead-in, was an old coat hanger, that took two days of pondering, for me to make the purchase. I was happy at the check-out, to present two items for sale……a hanger and a box of old letters. The clerk didn't know what The Herald-Gazette had been in its life. "Just the start of a writing career….that's all," I chortled to myself.

I haven't decided what to do with those letters. I'm waiting to find the right board to attach them to……. I'll stucco it first, to make them look more realistic. This event, this acquisition, was my closure, from a profound sadness, at walking away from a job I truly hoped, I could hold onto for decades….not just a few years.

Before I close today's blog, I'll give you one small example of a hitch-hiker piece, in our collection, that defines my interest as an antique dealer…….who's in it for the excitement and adventure, not just the profit. A more in depth blog about this can be viewed on my Muskoka and Algonquin Ghosts site, if you want more information.

It was at an Art Campbell auction, in the community of Milford Bay, (between Bracebridge and Port Carling) in the early 1990's. Art was a friend of mine, and whether we bought anything or not, we used to attend out of general interest, and the fact that auctions in those days were almost weekly social events. It was great fun back then. On this occasion, I had very little money that week, and seeing as this was a very old estate, with some interesting antique items, from glass, china, paintings to furnishings, the prices were going to be high. As it turned out, it was crawling with dealers. They were everywhere, and on top of that, there was a host of interior decorators, collectors, and neighbors interested in keeping some of the pieces from leaving the community.

The sale was long, and we had both boys at the sale, and they were getting anxious to move on to the next event……..getting an ice cream cone. It was a hot day. Everything I bid on was contested vigorously, and I was beaten routinely. Not by a few bucks. By a whopping amount. I watched a dealer, and I hated him for it, buy bound copies of Picturesque Canada, and in front of me, rip the illustrations out. I wanted to kick his ass but Suzanne smoothed the ruffled feathers. I would have purchased the books as an historian, and used them for my research. He was a dealer, who found more profit selling off the art work in the books, than selling them as bound copies. The books were salvageable, but I didn't have any choice but to let the man do what he wanted with his purchase. Just before the end of the sale, I was determined to get one piece. Any piece. It's a dangerous attitude to have at an auction especially, because you can overpay by a huge whack when emotion enters the equation.

All through the sale, I'd been attracted to a photographic portrait, with what we call hand-tinting, to enhance the black and white Victorian image. It was the studio photography of a very unhappy girl of about twelve years of age, in a white frock. It is quite a large image, and was in a very old, gold plaster frame. But I've had dozens of these, and they sell very seldom, as most people find them unhappy and not the kind of art pieces to glam-up a room. I just couldn't stop looking at her, as if she was insisting that I pay attention. Now I have to note here, that it's not uncommon in these period photographic portraits, to have sullen looks upon the face of the sitter. You would too, if you had a metal neck brace on, and a rod against your spine, and a several minute exposure period. It is impossible to hold a smile for this length of time, without dropping it and, in a long exposure, blurring the lips. It is better to start off with a bland look, or frown, that won't change over the course of the exposure by the photographer. But even beyond the facial expression, this little girl was asking to be rescued…..possibly from jerks like the antique dealer with Picturesque Canada, who would rip her from the frame, and re-use it for another work of art. At least this is what was running through my mind.

So when it came down to what Art put together as a final lot, the highest bidder taking one, for that price, or them all, her eyes were burning me. As it turned out, my little girl was the last one to sell. None of the other winning bidders wanted her for the upper bid. Art looked at me, and I suppose had some pity for the broke antique dealer. "Ted? How about five bucks for the nice Victorian picture?" You know what? I had five bucks, and a real need to spend it. I think she (the portrait) was ticked-off with me, for not jumping in sooner on the bids. I think in retrospect, she repelled the other bidders, to get to someone who understood her needs. And they were many, let me tell you.

In the next blog, I will tell you a little bit more about the wee Muskoka pioneer girl we called "Kathleen," and just how determined she was, to get her way here at Birch Hollow.

Thanks for joining me. Much more to come. If you don't have much interest in antiques, but you're not adverse to a little paranormal tidbit or two, stay tuned to the story of Kathleen. It's a good sample piece, for the discussion on both "hitch-hiker" antiques, and the energy of certain pieces, some of us magnetic personalities just can't ignore.