These rain lilies are the result of last week’s storms. There are bunches of them throughout my garden and front parkway. But because they are kind of on the small side, any photo taken of an entire spread of various bunches just does not do them justice. So, for me, focusing on a single group was the only effective way to photograph them. Enjoy.
The Ladies’ Clubhouse at Little Sandy Hunting and Fishing Club in East Texas is one of those hidden time warps. To walk through its rooms and recognize that time has stopped is like some eerie dream. And it’s very important that I tread quietly so not to wake it, because the last thing I want is for it to follow me into my century.
Several years ago, I worked with John Crow Miller on a 400 page historical book for Little Sandy written to celebrate a century of seasons at the club (it had just celebrated its 100 year anniversary). And at that time, there was talk that the clubhouse would have to be demolished. But now, John has written to me to say that there has been a change of heart. He also included a bit of its history.
When it came to making decisions on window treatments for my the two bedrooms, I knew that I wanted the kind of window shades I grew up with in the 50s and 60s. The kind of shade we see in old black and white movies. The kind of shade your grandparents had. The kind of shade that feels like overly starched cotton. The kind of shade that wrinkles like paper and yellows in a funky way as it ages. Three years ago, after gobs of google searches, the only site that offered exactly what I wanted was The Handwerk Shade Shop. My six shades were custom-made at that time, so I don’t know if they are still taking orders. And today, just before typing this post, I did another google search and came up with the same results—pretty much nothing. There are plenty of the vinyl or plastic types, but nothing like what I have. Perhaps interior designers have their own secret sources which I’m not privy to.
In my opinion these shades are perfect for an old house like mine. During the day, I keep these shades uniformly pulled down to the first top muntin bar (also called the glazing or sash bar). I had noticed that in old movies the shades were always pulled to line up with a muntin. From the outside, my house’s windows give the impression of having sleepy eyes, since the front living and dining room windows’ roman shades are also pulled down to that first muntin.
If any of you out there, know of a source for this kind of shade, please leave the names and links in the comment section of this post, and I will include them in my future resource guide. Thanks.
In 2002, my house was one of the initial group of homes awarded a historical plaque by the Preservation Park Cities. The main goal for this marker program was to acknowledge and honor those properties that retained most of their original architectural character. Unfortunately, it does not carry any restrictions. I say “unfortunately” because I know that most folks here in Dallas don’t value historical architecture, much less a small home. And if I would need to sell (hopefully never), whoever purchases this property would most likely want to tear it down and build something bigger and badder. “Badder” does not mean “better”. It means “evil”, “bloat”, “greed”, and any other vice you can think of minus sex apeal. Well, anyway, that’s just my opinion. This plaque is just meant to give any future homeowner pause to reflect before proceeding with any possible destructive behavior in the name of immediate financial return.
Preservation Park Cities has now joined another group and is called by a really super long name, Park Cities Historic and Preservation Society. This group still awards plaques, but the design and shape of their plaque is completely different from mine. Regrettably, nothing these two groups have done, independently or jointly, has been able to stem the aggressive tide of teardowns. My neighborhood looks nothing like it did when I moved into my home in 1985. The charm and quiet are history. A beautiful memory.
Hopefully this will be the last time I write something mean and ugly on this blog. That’s not the recommended way to making friends with fellow bloggers. Or neighbors. Or fellow Dallasites. I am very aware that I’m a minority in my hood, because I’m single with no children and mow my own lawn. So if it upsets any neighbor that I don’t fit the norm, then let them be reminded nicely and with a smile that I was here first.
Now I must stop to water my garden, while performing the mosquito dance.
Oxblood Lilies. Every year towards the end of August, the Oxblood Lilies make their annual show. But dang it! Because their foliage had died back earlier in the summer and not knowing where the bulbs were exactly (they tend to continually migrate toward better sun exposure), I AGAIN find that I have unintentionally planted summer annuals around them, and they just aren’t able to compete with the crowd. Will I ever learn? The bulbs planted in the front parkway among the English Ivy show up well, but not the ones in the west bed.
And then there are the Rain Lilies…