Imagine the dialogue between two sisters in the garden.
Or perhaps they talk about other secret matters.
This sculpture is a 3-D rendition by J. Seward Johnson, Jr. of Pierre-August Renoir’s “Two Sisters” painting. The sculpture can be seen at Grounds for Sculpture, Trenton, NJ. It has been called “Family Secret” in a few sources. Here is a view of the original which can be seen at the Art Institute Chicago.
While my brain was resting up from the 2014 #AtoZ Blog Challenge, I stumbled across this new (to me) photo challenge from Lingering Visions: Look at Abandoned Architecture (May). You can find several of these abandoned buildings along the backwoods roads of South Jersey.
I love the look of old buildings with cracked and peeling paint, broken windows, rusted hinges, weedy yards. I can imagine the lives of the families who lived there.
The house in this photo is found in Scullville, New Jersey, a place along the road on the way to somewhere else, down along Cranberry Creek and Mays Landing-Somers Point Rd in the marshlands of the Egg Harbor River. We often use this back road to go to Ocean City, NJ.
Scullville, originally settled in the early 1700s, now earns its fame from the annual Terror in the Junkyard, the Halloween hayride sponsored by the Scullville Fire Company at Flemings Junkyard on Zion Road.
Don’t blink as your drive through the village, you just might miss it.
Oh Heck! Another Writing Quirk, theme for the amazing 2014 A to Z Challenge, suggests ways to improve our writing by avoiding and/or eliminating troublesome bug-a-boos that cramp our writing style.
Look for a list of posts for the #AtoZ, 2014 Challenge (Writing Quirks) here: #AtoZ: Q is for Quirky Index and a Q Post Round-Up
Meow for now. =<^!^>=
I reported for petit jury duty in Atlantic City this week, but I did not have to serve. On both Monday and Tuesday, enough potential jurors were called, questioned, and approved that the court clerk never got around to calling my name. The numbers in the room were getting slimmer though, as a number of potential jurors were dismissed for legitimate reasons.
After my second morning of waiting and then being dismissed, I decided to walk down to the boardwalk to see what was happening. As it turns out, not much. The weather was cold and rainy, not condusive to boardwalk strolling. However, I did snag pictures that represented Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Alone.
And here’s the lonely feral kitty I saw just before I headed back to my warm car. This cat is a member of the Boardwalk Cats Project sponsored by Alley Cat Allies and volunteers who regularly feed, vaccinate, and monitor the cats that live under the boardwalk. Alley Cat Allies sponsors a humane Trap-Neuter-Return program for the cats.
Leaving Atlantic City…lonely…
Late October, 2013.
News Flash. Unnaturals (Spooks? Zombies? Undead denizens? Dead Denizens? Residents of the Deep?) have found their way onto the Grounds for Sculpture in Trenton, New Jersey.
The NJ State Police have sent out detectives to ascertain their purpose for being in these local woods. Perhaps these undead are looking for Dan Shamble, that dead zombie private investigator who still works for his living by solving strange murder cases…including his own. Shamble was last seen in Kevin J. Anderson’s book, Death Warmed Over. Just ignore that bullet hole in his forehead. Anyway, you hardly notice it when he pulls his hat down.
Latest news: The Governor of New Jersey, Chris Christie, has asked the NJ National Guard for military reinforcements to protect the citizens of this great state. In the meantime, he has made a newsworthy public announcement in which he emphatically stated, “Hey, You. Whatever you are. Get the hell out of New Jersey’s woods!”
Are you brave enough to go seek these unnaturals out? Look in the bamboo grove at the Grounds for Sculpture, but enter cautiously. These unnaturals reportedly have supersensitive hearing and can smell aliens (that’s us humans) a block away. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
What? Are those horns on this unnatural? Is it … Satan… himself? In person?
Don’t miss this incredible landscape/sculpture park. It is beautiful, amusing, and surprising. You never know what you might find hiding in the woods or just standing out in plain sight.
I found a coven of witches there which I reported on here: Witches on the Prowl.
Here’s another (human) view of the Grounds for Sculpture…before the invasion of the unnaturals: Traveltimetalk.com, Grounds for Sculpture.
The Last Meow
Those unnaturals don’s scare me. Let me have a go at ’em. I can get rid of ’em faster than Chris Christie can say, “Meow.”
Meow for now. =<^;^>=
Yes, folks, dan-de-li-on. Some folks consider it a weed, but where I come from, we know better.
Di Bell digs deep and finds some wonderful lost words.
Ellen Gregory shares her love of kitties with the word ailurophile.
Julie Farrar uses her word as a jumping-off point. (Look for a kitty in here, too.)
Kim Griffin goes nostalgic with a Mary Poppins’ word.
Siri Paulson beats me to the punch with serendipity.
The Last Meow
Favorite Word? For a cat? That’s easy. Eat-play-sleep. That reminds me. I think it’s nap time now. Maybe I’ll head out to the dandelion patch and take a snooze.
Meow for now. =<^;^>=
WANAfriday: Share an early childhood memory, or a photo that brings back a memory of childhood or family.
In my childhood, large family gatherings were common.
Many evenings, my aunts and uncles gathered round the big kitchen table drinking coffee and talking about the events of the day, the weather, and the crops.
We cousins ran around outside in the twilight swatting mosquitos and catching fireflies to make lanterns for our bedrooms. Mom’s Mason canning jars, especially the green tinted ones, made the best lanterns.
Sometimes we sat outside on the big lawn in a big circle just talking. Sometimes we even had a campfire. One of the bigger kids invariably started telling scary stories, complete with stormy sound effects and long drawn out details. Here is an abbreviated version of one classic night-time summer tale:
It’s a dark and stormy night, and Bubba and Sarah Lee sneek away from their friends in his new black convertible to go sparking out on the woodsy bluff. In the midst of their tryst, they hear a faint scratching on the passenger door. Then the scratching gets louder. Scratch, SCRATCH. And LOUDER. SCRAA-AAATCH.
Then… thump, thump, thump. The door rattles. A deep, snorting chuggle fills the air.
Bubba, remembering tales of terrors in these parts and fearing the worst, puts the car in reverse and blasts out of the woods, the romantic interlude forgotten in the terror of the moment.
When Bubba and Sarah Lee get back to her house, Bubba goes around the car to open the passenger door for Sarah Lee, and………he……….sees…….. [deathly silence]
… A BONY ARM WITH A CLAWED HAND HANGING ON THE DOOR HANDLE!!!!!
Was it the famed Jersey Devil? Who knows. But this story has been told and retold at many a campfire.
It was all too real to us little ones because we knew that the Jersey Devil did live in the woods of South Jersey, not that far from our home.
The Last Meow
Ha. You think that’s a scary story. You want to hear about the night I met the Jersey Devil on a moon-less night in the dark woods and chased him out of town? That Jersey Devil was so scared that he never came back again. So much for him, the big lummox. I never got much thanks from any humans for saving them from terror either. Oh well, what can you expect from those superstitious scaredy-cat humans. They probably think THEY chased the Jersey Devil away. Humph.
Meow for now. =<*!*>=
Here are a few more WANAfriday childhood memories:
P.S. Did you ever hear that scary story when you were a kid? What scary stories did you hear at camp?