Font Hill Castle

It was the home of Henry Mercer, a wealthy and quirky guy from Doylestown, Pennsylvania (his childless aunt left him eight million in today's dollars).  Henry built his home out of poured concrete and decorated it lavishly with the clay tiles he designed and sold.

Font Hill Castle

 I oohed and aahed through the whole castle and just couldn't stop taking photos.  You're the lucky (or unlucky [it's for you to decide]) recipient, Viewer Dear (and I might point out that the choice is totally yours--whether to accept the title of "recipient"[aka Viewer Dear])!

Ergo, nothing unlucky* about it!

Home of Henry Mercer

You have only to recall, Viewer Dear, that the man who lived in this castle was the one who later built the seven-story museum that HM and I toured yesterday.  Here are some final clips from the top floor just to refresh your memory:

And now we are at Henry's castle.  In this building our only option is a guided tour (unlike the self-guided tour of the museum) and our small group of about ten people is introduced to the guide.

Questions are welcomed! She assures us; though the HM is standing behind me, I can see the grimace on his face, as he contemplates my excess of curiosity.

No more comments from me, Viewer Dear.  You are setting out on a mini-guided-tour without the shuffling along in person, climbing the narrow winding stairways, and listening to everything the long-winded guide had to tell us about Henry Mercer and his day (though I hung on most every word, the HM was ready to call for an escort out of the place long before she was finished!)

If you choose, Dear Viewer, to scan the post, skip the clips, skim the details,
here are a few spots in the castle for your quick perusal:

Henry put Tiles Everywhere

Tiles Everywhere, Didn't I say?

Tile-Covered Walls

Tile-covered Ceilings

Entering the Library, there stood Henry himself!  Though I was pleased and excited to see him, he seemed, Viewer Dear, very indifferent to my presence.

Henry Installed Two Highly Modern Bathrooms

Henry's Deathbed Pharmaceuticals

Thus ends this tour, Dear Viewer.
Tomorrow we will take a look at the tile manufacturing business.
Come along if you wish.
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*Only unlucky in that you may wish to be right there, traipsing along on the tour,
seeing everything close up, hearing every word  (I do recommend a visit in person).

Once Upon a Time

a Momentous Event changed all of history for at least a dozen people.

In a small celebratory trip in honor of the Momentous Event, the HM and I went to spend  a weekend in Doylestown, Pennsylvania.  Our one complaint had to do with the windy weather.  The relatively small borough itself could not be held responsible for the weather, of course.  Everything else was delightful.   The HM and I had a forty-six-year history of togetherness to go on.

Now, you may be scratching your head over our destination spot.  "WHAT is there with which to occupy one's time in Doylestown, Pennsylvania?" you may ask, Reader Dear.

In answer to your question, I'm here to tell you about an ex-resident of Doylestown,  and to show you how much he influenced our stay!

The gentleman (I'm calling him that though I have no idea of his gentlemanly nature, or lack of it) was Henry Mercer.  He was a very unique individual!  Henry has now passed on to other worlds, but he lived in Doylestown during the last half of the 1800's and the early years of the 1900's (died in his early seventies in the year of 1930.)  He never married, so had no wife and family to hold him back from his extensive hobbies, talents, and tendency for hoarding! He, in fact, was gifted by a wealthy aunt, which allowed him to indulge himself, which allowed him to build three buildings, which, in turn, allowed the HM and I to have an entertaining celebratory weekend in Doylestown, Pennsylvania.

And the wealthy aunt can make all the difference for you, as well, Dear Viewer, if you chance to be in Doylestown, Pennsylvania!

Just take a look (one word of warning: I've got photos galore!  And not nearly enough, at that.)

The Mercer Museum

First, Henry built himself a castle as his home.  He built it from poured concrete, using only a plan he sketched out himself, no architectural  assistance.  Not too many years later he built a seven-story museum using the same method (poured concrete).  There were also tile-manufacturing buildings that he constructed with poured concrete  (tile-making was one of his most extensive and creative hobbies)*

*All three of these buildings are lavishly decorated with the tiles that he designed (many of the designs were inspired by the stove-plates he collected**)
**Cast-iron stove "plates" were the doors and sides of small wood or charcoal burning stoves used to heat homes prior to the nineteenth century (and the arrival of more modern heating systems).  When Henry came along, the stoves were being tossed out, had little to no value, and he took note of their interesting and varied designs and began collecting them.

Henry had Hundreds of Stove Plates

It's evident that Henry enjoyed collecting all kinds of things, Reader Dear!  As he got to be about the age that I, myself, have aged to right now, he had acquired a vast collection of tools and equipment (all from the pre-industrial era) and no heirs on which to foist them.  His brilliant idea, Reader Dear,  was to build a seven-story museum and fill it up!**

**Brilliant idea, indeed!  "It's just the thing!" I exclaimed to HM.  "We can  build a museum (maybe two stories would do) and fill it up! Letters, photographs, old artifacts handed down, hand-crafted items and just "stuff" in general!  Think how fascinating our museum will be to all those museum-goers a hundred years from now!"  (Can you believe it, Reader Dear, he merely laughed.)

If these photos from the museum, Viewer Dear, spark your interest, please watch out for the up-coming post entitled "Font Hill Castle" (It was built first, but viewed second by the HM and me).

*******************
(I pray Henry forgives me if
I've got any details that are
incorrect. I'm telling this
tale without notes)

Which Came First,

Viewer Dear,
the chicken or the egg?

When you have given an answer to that age-old riddle, Dear Reader, perhaps you could tell His Majesty (aka Husband of Mine) where this lovely little guinea fowl originated.  The HM was completely surprised by her sudden appearance, and delights in the fact that she's taken up residence with his feathered friends who've clucked around the chicken yard for years.

He has no idea from whence the guinea fowl  came, and got no answer from the neighbors whom he asked.

She is loud!  She talks a lot!

But, HM has taken her under his wing (so to speak), given her the name Sheryl,  and takes great care to make her feel welcome.

(Between you and me, Reader Dear, I have a feeling that Sheryl came from an egg, but what do I know? [And it's true, of course, she had to come here first before there could be any guinea fowl eggs for the HM to find])

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Easter Day

Joe assisting with the Ham

For years, in an unbroken chain, every Easter has brought new life and hopefulness and the generosity of a brother-in-law and sister of HM, who host a celebratory Easter dinner for extended family.

This year was no different (as always, those who could not attend were sadly missed, and the recent members of the family bring joy and entertainment).

This year the weather was a Perfect Ten, to boot!
The garage doors could be wide open! The  after-dinner visiting was in the open air!


The ham and all the extras*, the loved ones gathered around the laden tables, the after-dinner Easter basket fun, all of it delightful, Reader Dear!

Let the Sugar Buzz begin!

Honey Roasted Pears by Etta

*The Easter dinner ham and mashed potatoes, gravy and rolls and drinks (and more), the preparation of eating area, the table-setting, the food preparation, food serving and monumental clean-up, the Easter food leftover gifting...for all of this and more, a monumental Easter thank-you is due to Beth and Rob**

**Thank you (monumentally!) dear Rob and Beth!

First of all,

let me make clear, Dear Reader, without any pauses, or hesitations, or beating around the bush, that what I'm about to say right now can only be described as introductory and preliminary, merely leading to the main topic.   I just want to spell out, without pussy-footing around, the essence of the matter, what it is I'm attempting to convey.   I do not wish to dilly-dally, or get mired down in details.  Since I've decided on an introduction, it's going to be brief and to the point.  Better to just go right ahead and say what I've got to say, no superfluous words cluttering up the message, no flowery excess, no extraneous expressions to sidetrack from the main topic.  So, without further ado, without dragging my feet or making things more complicated than they need to be, and without, you know, Reader Dear, driving anyone crazy with unnecessary wordiness...


I AM WISHING YOU, Dear Reader Dear

 A HAPPY EASTER!

***********************************

Cornwall, Pennsylvania, U.S.A.

is a small historical spot on the map.  It's also a delightful place for a family outing, particularly if the day is a balmy one in early spring.


It was the HM's idea, "Why not meet the kids at Cornwall Furnace and hike on the trail?" 
You see, Reader Dear, at Cornwall there is Cornwall Furnace, built in the seventeen-hundreds (1742).  Nearby is a hiking trail, formed where there once was a railroad bed. I'll show you the pics, Viewer Dear.

"Cornwall April 7, 2019" was inscribed on the hiking trail by a blogger who wanted a photo. The inscription had a history of mere seconds when the photo was taken, in sharp contrast to the age of the town.

We drove through the town of Cornwall with it's eighteenth century homes, built specifically to house the workers of this iron smelting furnace. They were constructed when the mass usage of fossil fuels was relatively young and building a whole town of large stone residences as an employee benefit was possibly not as shocking as one might think of it today.  (However, with a [beautiful red stone] corner on the market, one must consider the employer toting up the rental rates)

As it turns out, Reader Dear, this site is the only intact charcoal-burning iron blast furnace in its original plantation in the western hemisphere.   Just so happens, out of all the sites in the entire western hemisphere where we could have chosen to make our home, the HM and I live within an hour's drive of this place.  How handy that makes it for us to assemble here with our descendants, stroll around the grounds of the furnace, and then drive a short distance to the nearby hiking trail!

Someone in our group spotted this small fellow creature of the western hemisphere.  I was pleased that this resident of Cornwall  paused long enough for a photo!
*********

If you reside in the Eastern Hemisphere, Reader Dear, a visit to Cornwall Furnace may seem a bit anticlimactic considering the travel time and expense to arrive at the spot.  However, I highly recommend a visit if you can make the trip to Cornwall and back in the space of one fine spring day!

A Rash of Outings:

Upon return from two weeks of vacation time, there was such a backlog of paperwork and appointments and excess stuff to deal with that I felt I needed a break!

Fortunately, HM and I were offered (by friends of ours) tickets to a concert that proved to be quite delightful!  It was four saxophone players from Germany--Arcis Saxophone Quartet.


I fear I over-indulged in recordings of the performance.  You must understand, Viewer Dear, I had such a great seat, so close to the front of the auditorium. I thoroughly enjoyed the performance, too. Each piece seemed to top the one before it!  It's tough deciding which bits to share.

These may not be the best clips, but they give you a touch, a tiny taste, a feel for  the concert. So there you go, Listener-Viewer Dear; if you listen and view, maybe you'll get a decent all-over sense of it.


These players are international stars.

"I need the photo for a facebook 'like'!" I told them.
***********************
There was this, too.  One afternoon the HM asked me if I wished to attend a gathering at a local church.  It was advertised as a group that works at turning guns into gardening tools.  Fascinating! I thought.  And said, "Yes, let's go!"

After an explanation of what Beatingguns.com is all about, and a very interesting program, the sizeable audience moved outside into the chilly night air and watched a blacksmith form the head of a garden digger.  The metal used was from a donated gun.

Reader Dear, it really did give one a feeling of hope.

At least one person (I know this for a fact) was moved to ask, "Can I order one of these?"

And that person was instructed to put her name on a list.  She was told that she'd likely receive a notification to send payment and receive the tool about mid-summer.

This group (and it just makes sense [wouldn't you agree, Reader Dear] must complete their cross-country fund-raising tour (which originated in Colorado) before they can get back to serious beating of guns into plowshares (the hand-held kind).





This, Viewer Dear, is what I ordered:

PEACE, Dear Viewer! I'll be sure to let you know when I'm peacefully moving soil with this peace-filled tool.
****************************

The final outing about which I'm going to elaborate was of the (somewhat) impromptu kind: "We need to go out together! Let's have lunch next Monday!"

The Husband of Mine and I and some dear friends of ours had had a lengthy lapse of seeing each other.  Then one day Only Son saw these friends, Minh and Thuy (say it Ming and Twee),  at a local market where they prepare and sell delicious fried rice.

"My mom was in the hospital again," Only Son told them.  He didn't stick around to explain because they were very busy (As I said, Reader Dear,  their rice is terrific! They  were swamped with lunch-hour customers).

Minh and Thuy swiftly came to my house to see that I was okay.  That's when we made our plans for lunch out.

And we had a very good lunch at a restaurant serving Vietnamese food.  After lunch our friends took us to a grocery store that caters to customers who are searching for Asian foods, or perhaps have a taste for the unknown.   Reader Dear, this little shopping trip was more fun than I've had in a grocery store for a very long time!

I felt as if I were in a very interesting museum with my own personal guides!

A package of Duck Tongues

The HM was not nearly as surprised by black chickens and intestines from all sorts of creatures, but I was tickled by the novelty of new discoveries.


I took photos of the Dried Longan* Pulp,

and likewise the Osmanthus** Intestines ("Do you suppose you'd find them more yummy than pork sausage?" I asked the HM).

 
Of course, there were some displays of foods with which I was more acquainted  Look at the beautiful fresh fish, Viewer Dear! This department of the museum (er, grocery store) featured an aquarium with live fish swimming.  I looked at those (also beautiful) fish and cringed.  It's a fact of life that humans eat anything lower on the food chain, but I prefer to contemplate that fact after the execution.

I purchased a fresh whole young coconut (with a shell, but hairless).
Thuy gave me instructions.****

********************
*Longan is a member of the Soapberry family, Dear Reader.
**As opposed to a strange Asian creature I'd never heard of prior to this (and for which I was enjoying the use of my imagination), Osmanthus is a plant.***
***Which begs a question regarding the Osmanthus Intestines.
****Oh, yes.  Reader Dear, I promise you follow-up on the coconut.

*********************
More of the rash to follow, Dear Reader...