Seen on the last day of January
Seen on the last day of January
Our house in Thimphu Bhutan
Our house again – view from the path above
Where was this?
Thimphu Valley Bhutan
A special day in Thimphu
A rather strange photo = the cat has killed the bird and now is puzzled about my reaction to her treasure
Alfred D Guion
AT DELL AVENUE
As Lincoln Avenue was the home of my childhood and boyhood, 71 Dell Avenue, Mount Vernon, was the home of my youth and early married life. There I emerged from High School, started a business, married and began bringing up a family.
It may have been the fact that my mother had to live very economically that the value of the dollar was early impressed on my growing mind and the advantage of a savings account became important. My mother paid me ten cents a day for cleaning ashes from the furnace and stoking it in the winter time, and once a week rolling the ash barrel from the cellar door at the back of the house to the curb in front for the ash man to collect. I took great pride in watching my savings account grow, which enabled me eventually to…
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Spreadsheet pages – My approx 300 Immigrant Ancestors
Selfie as I neared the end of the exercise of sellotaping and collating the pages of the printout of the spreadsheet.
(for my knitting friends – I am wearing a sweater which I knit many years ago )
The following memories are quotes from “Reminiscences of Alfred D. Guion, written in 1960 while he was on a four-months “around the world” freighter trip.
The story of my boyhood would not be complete if I failed to mention my sisters and my favorite cousins and playmates – the Duryees – Adele, Nan and Dudley. Dud was my own age, the girls a few years older. Adele, who was three or four years my senior, seemed, at my age, to be old. Their father, whom I called Uncle Eddie, was my mother’s cousin, and although he had perfectly good and respectable parents he turned out to be the black sheep of the family. Alcohol was the cause. In these days we would have regarded his failing as a disease and taken medical means to correct it, but at that time no such charitable view was taken. My mother, who always…
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When sorting out my external hard drives the other day, I came across
some textile photos from 20 years (and more) ago. I thought some of them were worth a new look!
The first of these is a hand spun cushion cover I did in the early years of the Online Guild of Weavers, Spinners and Dyers. The tutor for this workshop was Lucy Neatby, and the brief was to create a colourful piece.
I was living on the island of South Ronaldsay at the time, looking over
Eastside Bay to the Grimness headland.
The land was all farmed, so for much of the spring, summer and autumn
the fields formed a patchwork of colours.
In particular, in August and September the colours of the grass and the barley,
set against the blues of the sea, fascinated me.
I used Falkland top – 3 greens, 3 yellows, 3 blues…
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True stories about World War II - One war. Two Countries. One Family
A foray into the phantasmagoria of everyday living by a polytheistic priestess and champion of the Humanities
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