marshmallows

Reluctantly I agreed to drive the 12 miles to town to pick up my husbands medication at the pharmacy. I was feeling grumpy as the car headed south on LaFox Road. Glancing to the left my eyes fell upon this sight. The first mow of hay lined the field in neat rows. I've heard about wrapping fresh bales of hay in plastic, but it's not a practice that is used around here. A giggle welled up as my mind pictured a mythical giant pitching marshmallows onto the open field. It's almost impossible to find a safe place to pull over on some of these roads. The shoulder is skimpy, so I pulled on a side road and walked to the guardrail. Of course I could have created a much more dramatic shot if I'd been willing to walk the half mile or so through the open field to compose the shot up close and personal!

blanketed

The shaded glen alongside Big Rock creek is blanketed with wildflowers. They lacy blooms are similar to Queen Anne's Lace and created such a dreamy effect. I expected one of Tolkein's elves to come riding through on a white horse.

interrupted work

As I sat in watched in fascination as the bees moved about, a branch fell off the large tree that shaded the spot where they worked. The sudden movement as the falling branch hit the dead wood shook most of the bees loose. I thought they'd get angry and head in my direction, but these were bees on a mission! They swarmed around the general area and then headed right back to the unfinished honeycombs. The Queen must be a slave driver!

back to the bees

This is the ham shaped mass of bees next to the creekbed in Big Rock. I was sure they were building a hive because they were very, very busy. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to what was going on, as they were all moving erratically. They were oblivious to everything around them, including the photographer who was carefully sliding down the slope, closer and closer to their project. There are a number of beekeepers in Kane County, and it always amazes me that the taste of the honey is dependant upon what type of flowers the bees gather their pollen from. Fresh hot biscuits with sweet butter and honey sure sounds good after a day of photographing bees!

in service of God and country

Families were uprooted and expelled from Scotland by the English king. My great-great-great grandfather, Robert Nesbitt and his family arrived by ship into Charleston harbor, somewhere around 1767. They lived in South Carolina until Robert and his brother John were conscripted to serve in the Revolutionary War. They served to ensure the birth of a new nation, where they could live and worship freely.

After the war, the brothers were given military land grants in what is now Dickson County, Tennessee. They traveled there to claim their land, along with two younger brothers. The four brothers, Robert, John, Jeremiah and Nathan, settled the land, and family members still live within a 5 mile radius of the original homesteads location.

Today I write in honor and respect of those who came to this country to make a free life for themselves, and those who have served to protect and defend our country. Read on if you will, or pass by. This is simply a tribute to those in my family who have served.

in service of God and country continued

There are no photos from this period, but great grandfather James Lewis Nesbitt served in the Confederate Army, Company B, 14th Tennessee Regiment of the General Archie Brigade. Rural life at this time was tenuous at best, and the women and children left behind had to keep the farm going. This was subsistance farming and if they were not successful they would not survive. Letters home reflected the men's concerns about the childrens health, and whether or not the wife had been able to obtain salt. Salt was vital to preserved the meat when a hog was butchered in the fall. This meat was essential for the family to exist through the winter.

in service of God and country continued

George Washington Newton, my paternal grandfather, served in World War I. It was quite an adventure for a simple country farmer to travel to Vancouver, Washington to train. The photos from this period in time were actually postcards, as soldiers would not have access to a camera. The back of this postcard, which shows the soldiers setting up camp, reads, "This is a beautiful place. Say, I suppose you are almost read to plow corn. So long, George."

George's brother, Tinnoman Newton, also served in World War I. He trained at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, which is still one of the largest training facilities. He also sent a postcard.

in service of God and country continued

My father, Franklin Ray Newton, enlisted in the U.S. Navy 6 months after the attack at Pearl Harbor. He had just graduated from high school. His service included tours on destroyers and the U.S.S. Midway. He was aboard his ship in the Sea of Japan the day the treaty was signed with the Japanese government, ending the war. This photograph hung in his bedroom as long as I can remember, up until his death 17 years ago. The U.S.S. Midway is now a floating museum, docked in San Diego.

After discharge my father married my mother and started a family. His was working to save money for a home when he was called back into the Navy to serve in the Korean war. One thing I will say about his generation is that they were not whiners. Not a word was every said about having their plans disrupted to serve his country again. He served, was discharged a second time and they got on with their lives.

His brother, Jackie Newton enlisted in the U.S. Army after Pearl Harbor and served in the European theater. He was a German prisoner of war for over two years, returning to his beloved Florida panhandle where he farmed peanuts, cotton and sugar cane. He still lives within 3 miles of the family homestead.

in service of God and country continued

Cousin Charles Sheldon served two tours in Vietnam. He was a career man, older than the troops he commanded. Died of a heart attack while serving in Vietnam. His half brother Mack Nolen was an enlisted man in the U.S. Navy for 25 years, serving also in Vietnam. My husband Paul Kathro, drafted into the U.S. Army in 1966, serving at Fort Knox, Kentucky during the Vietnam war.

To all these men I say, "I remember".

social

I pulled onto the gravel alongside Jericho Road, about a mile from where the east and west forks of Big Rock Creek meet up. The old bridge across the swollen creek was built in the 1940's, and the concrete is crumbling under the forces of wind, weather and traffic. My intention was to shoot the creek and bridge but while walking along I noticed something down the steep embankment. Thousands of bees were busy building a hive which was dangling precariously from a dead branch. I climbed over the metal guardrail and gingerly made my way a few feet down the slope. A tripod was out of the question, it was all I could do to keep myself from tumbling down to the creekbed. This was taken handheld with a 70-300mm lens, tightly cropped and curves adjusted in Photoshop. The resultant image is interesting I think... it looks more like an illustration.

faith

The Union Church in Lindenwood, Illinois on a quiet Sunday morning. Church was just letting out, so I don't know whether the bell in the steeple is functional. The town is small and quiet considering the interstate runs a short distance east of here.

snapshot

I thought it would be interesting to occasionally post a vintage photo from my family collection. Imagine my surprise, only two weeks after attending an ox driving class, to find this photo in the bunch given to me by my uncle Jackie. There a distinction between snapshots and artistic photography, but snapshots serve an important function. They record daily life, which some time in the future becomes a point of interest and study. Knowing that my great uncle Jack was born about 108 years ago, this photo is probably 100 years old. The boys are riding in a ox cart and I thought it a little curious that all are wearing hats. The location is the Florida panhandle, just outside Westville. On the back they are identified - Top center and going clockwise - Jack Newton (my great uncle), James B. Wooten, sitting on the staves is Harry McCullough and someone identified only as Joe. They all long gone, but captured for one moment in time....in a snapshot.

hand milking

Hardly anyone does hand milking anymore, except perhaps for goats. This farmer kindly demonstrated how it's done. The historic Teeple 16-sided barn was open for touring, and this farmer brought a dairy cow and calf, some chickens, a sheep and other animals. He was very warm and patient with the children, who were transfixed in wide eyed wonder at the sight of "exotic" farm animals. His face shows the effects of time and weather, and his physique tells of a stocky strength built by the nature of his work and not a conscious regimen of working in a gym. If you stop into the small family restaurant in DeKalb, you'll find it full of patrons who resemble this man. Big men doing big work.

the outhouse

Jed heads past the outhouse at Garfield Farm Museum. It is, of course, non functioning. I laughed the first time I toured the old inn. The costumed tour guide spoke of the daily activities of living in the 1840's as if it was ancient history. Sorry to tell her that many people in this country lived a very "primitive" lifestyle up until the 1960's for sure, and some still do. Although I was raised a city kid, summers were spent in Tennessee, Alabama and the Florida panhandle. Outhouses were a way of life and never much bothered me except at night or in a rainstorm. I'd rather walk the path in the dark than the alternative.....the potty jar! I imagine that my childhood experiences are why I love adventure travel....travel to remote places with more primitive peoples.

hen house still life

Three perfect eggs seem to glow in the afternoon shade on the windowsill of the hen house. Aged wood and dirty windows contrast with the perfect beauty of the forms. Inside an added bonus - a chicken feather leans upright against the glass.

green

The fresh hay was mowed day before yesterday. Today the baler ran through the field, forming perfect rectangles. They wait in the shade for the loader to put them on a truck. Nothing smells like fresh hay. The heaps of hay in the field are referred to as "mows".

newly shorn

One of the sheep is newly shorn and looks skinny and pale next to his cousins. Farm animals are a curious lot. Cows can always be counted on to stop dead in their tracks, turn and look your way standing stock still, making for a perfect subject. Sheep are much the same except after their initial curiousity (as captured here), they come bounding over to see if you have any food.

natashas hands

Natasha and her family operate the Lamb of God organic family farm in Big Rock, Illinois. The grow and sell unusual and ethnic varieties of produce. Her brother Eric runs the poultry end of the farm, offering fresh laid eggs from free-range chickens. Natasha is spinning yarn using a fleece sheared from one of her Cheviot sheep. The wool is first washed to remove the lanolin, carded and then spun into yarn. I think she'll be offering spinning classes next winter. I'm excited to learn this relaxing craft.

king of the barnyard

A Narragansett turkey stakes out his claim in front of the hen house. He stands on one leg and puffs up his chest, making a distinctive sound. It's hard to describe, very different from any other sound. Sometimes hard to hear over the cackling of the busy little hens.

it's a hogs life

Becky, a Berkshire sow, snoozes in the warm midday sun. She's quite a specimen of porcine beauty..... long eyelashes, pink nose.

pompadour

The young girls duck sports a pompadour.

a boy and his fowl

Unlike adults who generally dislike having their photograph taken, this young boy was a willing subject. He was begging me to shoot every imaginable pose, including a small gosling he'd stuffed in his shirt pocket! He would scoop up a small duck or goose from the pen and pose saying, "How about this one?" This was taken at the annual Rare Breeds Show at Garfield Farm Museum.

faith

Detail of the Methodist church in Kirkland. Lots of quirky little roof lines and windows at this small side door entrance to the church. The morning I was shooting this photo, church was being held inside. Let me just say that the congregation was raising a very joyful noise. It was Mothers Day.

Java

You'll probably be seeing lots of livestock photos in the next week. I'll be attending a Rare Breeds show at Garfield Farm Museum today. People from all over the country will be bringing their animals. This is a rare Java Chicken which calls Garfield Farm home. The Museum of Science and Industry is partners with the farm, hatching the Java eggs in its hatchery exhibit.

flatlanders

We are the flatlanders - those who love open space and large vistas. Agoraphobics would have a hard time around here.

collapse

The small gable of the barn has collapsed under the forces of wind, weather and weight. This was not simply a decorative element, but houses the top end of a pulley mechanism. Some of these barns are downright dangerous.

live oak and tire swing

Two years ago we vacationed in the Carolinas. It's often my habit to leave the main roads and drive the countryside to find things of interest. North of Charleston we left the highway and drove towards the coast, coming upon the very tiny communty of McClellanville. This is where the shrimp boats make safe harbor. It was hot and dead still, not a blade of grass moved nor leaf rustled. The tire swing hung in the middle of town, suspended from a majestic, ancient live oak tree dripping with Spanish moss. I'd brought along an inexpensive point and click film camera, and the package of film I'd purchased contained a bonus roll of black and white. The scene was from another time and another place. To Kill a Mockingbird came to mind and I half expected Scout and Jem to come along and pass their afternoon hanging from the tire swing.

muddy

Rains have soaked the ground and the tractor carves a muddy path as it comes around next to a neighbors barn. Days later the farmer spread straw over the mud to soak up the moisture. The blood red paint adheres in uneven patches to the old barnwood, and someone has slopped paint on the beautiful stone foundation.

misty morning

It's a cool and misty morning. The sheep and a dairy cow heading out to pasture create a peaceful image. Earling mornings are especially beautiful in farm country. Later in the day the light is harsh and unkind to the landscape.

the narragansett

This is a face only a mother could love. This Narragansett turkey lives at Garfield Farm, and is listed as a critically endangered bird by the American Livestock Breed Conservancy. The toms make a strange noise as they puff themselves up to impress the females, fanning out their beautiful tail feathers. Poor turkeys, they are ugly as sin and as dumb as a box of rocks.

lily lake cemetery

Small country cemeteries are carved out at the edges of corn and soybean fields. The Lily Lake Cemetery is at the top of a small rise overlooking flat farmland in every direction. It's as if the settlers decided they wanted to rest forever overlooking the land they loved and farmed for their livelihood. It seems very lonely in the wintertime, cold and barren with nothing to stop the relentless wind. My daughter's friend Cody is buried here.

silo abstract

Barns, silos and outbuildings are very often nestled together. This group of buildings presented an interesting abstract image. I love these old silos, ringed by bands of metal.

storm damage

The morning after a dangerous thunderstorm a neighboring farmer wakes up to find this huge tree split open by the force of the storm. Old or diseased trees are no match for wind and weather. Luckily for him half of the tree fell away from his house. Out came the chain saw to make short work of the limbs. What's left of the tree makes a graphic statement that reminds me of Munch's "The Scream".

nothing runs like a deere

Innocent looking clouds gather on the great plains. They form an angry mob and race across the Mississippi River, gaining speed and bearing down on the open farmland. When I was a kid people in the country did not take storms lightly. My uncle would unplug all electrical appliances and we would sit in the parlor of the farmhouse and wait for the storm to pass. This farmer races the John Deere back to the barn before the storm hits.

faith

Although this Congregational church is less than a mile from my home, I will admit that I've never been inside. It's quite small, but lovely and well kept. There's probably less than 25 cars each Sunday, but that's OK because there isn't much more parking than that. After looking at this photo, I guess I'll deem it "The Electric Church". It's very difficult to get a clear shot with all the electric lines running every which way!

alice's place

I called Alice a couple years ago, to see if I could sell her an ad in our local newspaper. "I don't need to advertise," she said. And she was right! They've built a new McDonalds about 2 miles from here, out on the main highway, but that is frequented by non-locals who are passing through on the way to Chicago, or heading west to Iowa. We all come to Alices if we want fast food. She has great burgers, chili cheese fries guaranteed to cause a log jam in some artery, and my favorite - soft serve ice cream. The cones are wonderful, but I love the Turtle Sundae.....ice cream, hot fudge, caramel sauce, those great salty pecans and real whipped cream. And yes...that's an ice cream cone on the roof. I'll take you to some other great places, including Dari Ripple in Sycamore and Dari Mart in Huntley.

dorothy's apple orchard

For many years this apple orchard was owned and operated by Dorothy Milnamow and her husband. We would visit each fall, picking apples and enjoying the wonderful apple cider doughnuts fried daily in the kitchen. We'd pay for the apples and pick up a big jug of my husbands favorite - unfiltered apple cider. Dorothy's husband died a few years ago, and she sold the orchard to a young family who is carrying on her tradition.

the window

It's impossible to say why I have such a fascination with abandoned buildings. There's a certain order in decay. At first the building simply looks shabby and ugly, but somewhere down the line it crosses into the realm of decrepit beauty. Peeling paint becomes an abstract pattern and old window caulking hangs draped like icing on a bizarre wedding cake. There's a slight hint of form inside the dark window, suggesting secrets that lie inside.

organic clothes dryer

Proctor & Gamble and armies of scientists will never be able to invent a scent that rivals fresh air. Clothes drying on a line is a sure sign of spring. It takes a bit more time than popping everything into a clothes dryer, but it's time well spent in the fresh air. I remember my grandmothers nimble fingers making quick work of a basket of wet clothes. Well worn wooden clothes pins hid in the pockets of her aprons and she retrieved them two at a time, holding one in her mouth as she slipped the other one over the line.

the hay loft

While driving on a side road one evening my route took me past this white barn. I looked up and noticed that a small door to the hayloft was open. This image took me back to summer trips to a dairy farm in central Wisconsin. The owners, Wolfgang and Bev and their children, were friends of my parents. Summer afternoons in the hayloft were spent daydreaming, discussing what we'd be when we grew up and napping, lulled to sleep by the sweet smelling hay. In the early evening when the cows returned to the barn for milking, we'd run downstairs and watch as Wolfgang attached the silver cups to the cows udders. The whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of the pump kept a mesmerizing rhythm. Some of the fresh milk would be served at the dinner table, something I never acquired a taste for. But I did always look forward to the sweet cream butter, churned by hand in a large glass jar with wooden paddles that whirled round and round. I have a soft spot for dairy farms, could you tell?

corn seedlings

This is a corner of the field that the farmers were harrowing and planting just three weeks ago. We've had some light rain over the past few days. The soil is damp and black, and the seeds have germinated and are sprouting up in neat rows. There's a saying here in Illinois - the corn will be "knee high by the 4th of July". One year we had some freakish weather that caused the corn to go through some phenomenal growth spurts. Towards the end of summer, some fields stood 8 feet tall! It was a little disconcerting to drive down Swanberg Road, which had become a gauntlet of freaky tall corn.

black & white

......in color. Garfield Farm Museum is home to a flock of rare Java chickens. They were tested and found to be possibly purebred, one of the rare breeds. About 6 years ago a white Java chick was hatched, white Javas being a variation on the black. The last white Java was seen sometime in the 1950's, so this was an exciting development for the farm. They enlisted the help of the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, which incubates and hatches eggs for them, allowing the flock to grow faster.

snack

While Duke and Doc are pulling a wagon out in the pasture, the other ox Jessy is stuck in the barnyard. He's been protesting loudly, as he sees the green grass so close, yet so far away. Fred takes pity on him and grabs up a handful, offering the snack through the fence.

the prize

Fred is one of the many volunteers that keeps Garfield Farm Museum running. The volunteers feed and care for the livestock year round. This is no small task. There are the four oxen, lots of Java Chickens, geese, turkeys, two hogs and more, which means alot of work! Fred has taken the ox driving class before, but participates to hone his skills. As we walked behind the team towards the barnyard, Fred bent over and picked up a prize....a beautiful turkey feather. He assured me that he will use this to create four or five nice fishing lures. I found a turkey feather too! Mine will be used to create a photographic study of nests and feathers.

3,600 pounds of muscle

Duke and Doc pull out of the barn and head towards the gate. This is 3,600 pounds of muscle coming at you. They get up a head of steam because they realize that through the gate, barnyard, and another gate, lies the pasture carpeted with thick, green grass. It's a veritable livestock buffet.

hitching up the wagon

After the participants each had a chance to drive the team around barnyard for awhile, Dick hitched up the wagon. This was an amazing demonstration of teamwork. The oxen are led into the barn, facing forward. In this tight space Dick, through voice commands, has the team turn, move sideways, stepping over the wagon bar and back up!! I was very impressed. The animals moved together with precision. The scary part was that Bob had to walk in between the animals and hitch up the wagon. Again, this is why it is so important for the animals to trust you and obey your commands. If one was to start moving, Dick would just bark out the order, "Whoa"....and they stop immediately in place.

duke and doc

After a good lesson on the steps needed to get the oxen into the yoke, Duke and Doc are ready to go to work. You can imagine, when animals this large are yoked together, they must work in unison, or chaos and injury will occur. These animals are highly trained starting as 3 week old calves. They are trained to respond to voice command, the body position of the driver, and by taps from the goad, which is a long switch. The switch does not hurt the animal, but gets their attention. At this point we have also fitted them with muzzles. Unless they're muzzled the oxen with simply eat everything in sight, and not get any work done. The light ropes on the side of the muzzle are tied in a way that allows the driver to just give a yank, release the muzzle and allow the animals to graze when they're taking a break.

ox driver

The ox driving class was held yesterday at nearby Garfield 1840 Farm Museum. This is Dick Middleton who led the class. Dick is an expert in this field, and is one of the hundreds of volunteers who make Garfield Farm such a success. He is explaining the basics of driving a team of oxen, which requires a good deal of training and practice. The original owner of this property plowed his fields with a team of oxen - a man can plow about 1 acre in a day. Mechanization, as pictured in the harrowing and planting photos on Friday, allows for plowing and planting hundreds of acres each day. Duke and Doc are resting in the background, before they're yoked up and put to work!

faith

The Country Covenant church in rural Plato township is a simple design. It was freezing cold and clear the morning this photo was shot. It was ducking in and out of my car between shots because the wind was cutting through my jacket as if it were made of cheesecloth. Worshipers were arriving and glancing curiously at the photographer. Everyone gave a small wave.

silenced

An old windmill stands silenced against the afternoon sky. This scene is from a small abandoned farm not far from here. The driving wind never ceases in this part of Illinois. It's hard to imagine how frantically the blades spun at one time, pumping water from the well. The newer wind machines that create electric power have brakes on them, I'm not so sure about the old machines. As I stood a distance away, shooting up into the sky, the windmill creaked and groaned, creating an eerie music in the otherwise silent landscape.

putting in the crop

Harrowing the field.



Planting the seed.

Two men work together to plant the crop. It was an interesting hour or two spent watching the tractors work the large field in tandem, a ballet of sorts as the John Deere's each performed their task as they swept back and forth across the field, cutting wide swaths. The first farmer is harrowing the field, which is dragging a long piece covered with tines, sort of like a huge comb, breaking up whatever clumps might be left and smoothing the surface. Notice how black and rich the undersoil looks when the dry top layer is broken up. The second farmer follows behind, always several swaths behind, planting the seed. The seed planting equipment is amazing. The first row of blades cut the furrow and those yellow buckets hold the seed, which is dropped down the center of the furrow. The sets of twin wheels on the back, angled slightly towards each other push the soil back over the furrow, and voile', the job is done. This was a horribly labor intensive job back before modern machinery. We'll visit this field again, and watch as the crop emerges. There's nothing more interesting than sitting on a porch, sipping ice tea and watching the corn grow!