Suspended somewhere between autumn and winter. That’s Northern Virginia in late November. Late roses and confused azaleas bloom fitfully, while even the stalwart marigolds hang limp on sad brown stems. Patches of green grass struggle to poke through a thick scatter of crisp red and gold leaves. Hardy perennial rosemary and sage stay strong while their more delicate annual cousin, basil, has surrendered to the cold.
Meanwhile, on some porches pumpkins and fall decorations are still piled up artfully (in what my friend Peggy and I used to call “squash medleys”) while a few others already sport their holiday lights.
The morning after Thanksgiving, I took a walk around our neighborhood. A small boy half-heartedly raked some leaves. Two small dogs sat motionless on the side stoop of their house. Otherwise, there was little sign of life. Everything seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the next move, suspended somewhere between autumn and winter.
Azaleas thought it was spring and bloomed despite their fall foliage.
Fall planted arugula is still going strong in our garden.
Burning bush displays holiday colors of red and green.
Fort Frederick is a National Park Service historic site in Big Pool, Maryland. Which is really not close to Frederick, Maryland. The fort was constructed way back in the years of the French and Indian Wars, predating the Revolution by some twenty years. It was also used during the Revolution though as well as during the Civil War.
Look hard and you can see a volunteer in costume in the shadows of the fort entrance.
After that, it was a farm for awhile, and then, just a pile of increasingly crumbling rocks in the middle of a field… until the good lads working for the Civilian Conservation Corps rebuilt the walls in the 1930s. At some point the barracks were also rebuilt.
The buildings on one side depict the typical living quarters of the men (and a few women) who inhabited the fort in the 1750s. On the other side, the doctor and higher ups. On the day we visited, a couple of interpreters in period costume were present to explain life in the cramped and dank digs. (Mercifully, they did not do so in first person. Because that is annoying.)
Eight men lived in each section of the barracks, two to a bunk bed in what was about the size of a twin bed today. Cozy, to say the least. A fireplace served as the heating and cooking source. Which probably kept the men closest to it overheated and the ones further away close to frozen in the bracing western Maryland winters. And everyone half roasted in the steamy summers.
The few women, who did the laundry, the mending, and other sundry things for the men, lived together in one small room. (Apparently, even those who were married to one of the soldiers…making “hanky panky” pretty tricky?) They had to adhere to all military rules and regulations. But they wore corsets, skirts and blouses instead of uniforms (and whatever the men wore under them, if anything).
On a bright and only slightly chilly October day, with doors open and breezes wafting, it didn’t seem like such a bad place. But still, it was not hard to imagine long, dark nights, seldom-washed bodies, smoky wood fires, and less than appetizing rations.
As the interpreters explained, we judge the inconveniences of living in the 1750s by current standards. But it made me appreciate a king-sized bed, a daily shower and fresh food that much more.
Reproduction of a period salt and pepper shaker. I liked the scrimshaw detail.
Corset sitting on a chair just like one of the fort ladies might have left it after a hard day of scrubbing dirty shirts.
Decidedly nicer dining room of the higher ups.
Bottles of medicine – wait, where’s the #ginseng ?
Doctor’s desk.
One of the interpreters showed how to load and shoot a musket. It took lots of practice not to blow one’s head off apparently.
