photos

Treasures from Home, Part One (The Moustache Cup)

Rae Spencer6 Comments

Cup Feb 2

My knowledge of antiques is limited to what I have absorbed while watching Antiques Roadshow, but I am trying to learn more. At least, I am trying to learn more about a handful of curious treasures that once belonged to my mother.

Saucer Feb 2

Cup Feb 2

I can’t say why I fell so blissfully in love with this little moustache cup, which I don’t remember seeing as a child. After Mother’s car accident in 2011, we found the cup in an unlabeled box in her house, so its history is largely unknown. We suspect it is one of the many pieces collected by a great aunt who had a fondness for porcelain.

Saucer Feb 2

Cup Feb 2

Last month, I decided to research the porcelain marks, which are clearly visible on both cup and saucer. The mark was harder to trace online than I had expected, but I eventually found a website (Porcelain Marks and More) that identified the mark as Bavarian, used between 1885 and 1902. While the date seems clear, I’m confused about the company name. Some sources say Sontag and Maisel, others Sontag and Sons. Also Royal Bayreuth. Perhaps all are correct? Or none? (Please respond, if you can help. I would love to know more about the mark, and about the cup.)

Teacup Feb 2

Now that I know something definite about them, I’m a bit overwhelmed by the cup and saucer. I’m terrified of breaking them, of being the final admirer of such lovely creations. I’ve considered finding a collector to protect and cherish them, to prevent their story ending with a crash and shatter on my worn kitchen floor. I’ve considered wrapping them as a gift for a friend, sending them to one of my more responsible sisters, or storing them in a box, where they would be more likely to survive their sojourn in my house.

Teacup Feb 2

But I’m having trouble making a decision. Like all of my treasures from home, the cup and saucer resonate with nostalgia and grief. There is nothing practical or useful about them, but some days I enjoy their glitter on my mantel. (Other days I hide them in a cabinet.)

And some days, like today, I marvel that such fragile, frivolous objects have endured so long and traveled so far, moving from hand to hand and home to home until arriving here. In my home. In my hand, where they mean so much and so little. Where they cannot possibly stay forever, because I cannot stay forever.

Teacup Feb 2

What will happen to them, after I am gone? What will happen to me?

Hooded Mergansers

Rae Spencer3 Comments

I saw my first-ever hooded mergansers in January of this year:

Mergansers Jan 15

Since then, I’ve seen them everywhere. At the Virginia Beach Fishing Center, prior to boarding a whale watching boat:

Merganser Feb 3

At Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge:

Merganser Feb 6

And, most recently, at First Landing State Park:

Merganser Feb 22

(In the photo above, the male seemed to be keeping watch while his mate foraged. She is partly visible in the background, captured mid-dive.)

Reviewing these photos, it’s hard to explain how I missed these lovely birds in the past. Is it possible that they were rarer in previous years? Has some imperceptible fluctuation in our weather pattern drawn them here in larger numbers than usual? Or are they like an unfamiliar word, more likely to be noticed in the days and weeks following their first recognition?

Hibernating

Rae Spencer5 Comments

View Feb 22

February’s annual malaise has set in. My mood reflects the sky’s gray clouds. My joints ache, brittle with frost. Each morning is more reluctant than the last, and each evening more welcome.

My instinct is to hide from February. To find a dry den, line it with blankets, and retreat into sleep’s warm sanctuary.

View Feb 22

But then, when I woke to the storm-scented gusts of spring, I would regret my weeks of sleep. I would wonder what I had missed, while hibernating…

Merganser Feb 22

Squirrel Feb 22

Unknown Bird Feb 22

Mallards Feb 22

Back Bay, Part Three

Rae Spencer6 Comments

Back Bay View Feb 6

A final set of photos from Wednesday’s walk at Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge, which is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.

Back Bay View Feb 6

Back Bay View Feb 6

Back Bay View Feb 6

Back Bay View Feb 6

Back Bay View Feb 6

A rich variety of wildlife makes every visit a fascinating new adventure.

Warbler Feb 6

Turtle Feb 6

Turtle Feb 6

Back Bay View Feb 6

Coot Feb 6

Coot Feb 6

Ducks Feb 6

Ducks Feb 6

Ducks Feb 6

(The ducks pictured above are a new species for me, and I would love a little help identifying them. Are they Gadwalls?)

Merganser Feb 6

Merganser Feb 6

As much as I enjoyed taking these photos, I regret that I missed the deer.

Tracks Feb 6

And I’m aching to know who left the following tracks on a patch of sand near the trail.

Tracks Feb 6

There were two sets of tracks, side-by-side, moving in the same direction. The footprints were slightly smudged, but the tail-drag marks were clear enough. What do you think? Did I miss otters? Or are the tracks more lizard-like?

I can’t resist a mystery, and I would love to add deer photos to the archive. I’m already planning my next walk…

More from Back Bay

Rae Spencer3 Comments

Flock Feb 6

During my Wednesday walk at Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge, I heard this flock of birds before I saw them. Their whistles and scolds carried over the water, and I wondered what was causing all the excitement.

Flock Feb 6

Flock Feb 6

At first, they seemed chaotic and confused, a disorganized muddle of hunger and alarm. After watching a while, their behavior made more sense. They would land for a frantic spell of foraging, gulping down seeds and anything else they found in the trees and on the ground. Then, at some mysterious signal, they would erupt into the air and circle to a new location.

Flock Feb 6

When they reached a small gravel road, they streamed back and forth across it, oscillating between dense stands of pine on either side.

Flock Feb 6

Flock Feb 6

Flock Feb 6

The most riveting part of this experience, to me, was the soundtrack. Whenever the birds landed, they communicated with a grating cacophony of calls. But they were almost silent in the air. As they shifted back and forth over the road, their wings whirred an eerie echo of the nearby surf.

I heard them in my sleep last night, and I dreamed of flying.