My current abode being somewhat the worse for wear, I was recently inspired to “go home” to Wellington to get one more look–maybe the last…or close to it–at the old homestead before someone new gets to call it “home.”
So, anyway, it was a fine drive to Lorain County and even after all of these years, I still notice how much flatter it is over that way than it is here. I even taught about it –Allegheny Plateau/ Lake Plain and all that–but it still gets my attention, especially since I have a cousin or two who farm a whole lot of it–fleets of tractors, gangs of trucks, whole lot o’ wagons, etc. It would take Bonner Enterprises to compare in sheer volume. Our place, Walnut Valley, as it is termed, is on the lower end of the county, where it is a little more defined by the tributary streams feeding into the Black River–we have hills & valleys and a little “crick” down behind the barn. We and the neighbor kids used to go down there hunting for freshwater mussels–planning to discover freshwater pearls, I guess; we did not eat such stuff, we were strictly meat-n-potatoes types.
I walked down the lane and all the way back to the grove of black walnut trees, back to what had been a corn field, back to the big ol’ poles of the power line heading heaven only knows where (They had just been cutting and clearing their right-of-way a while ago and it was clear where the machinery had been; they left a pile of logs). I made my way along pulling out the random garlic mustard plants as I went; that stuff really bugs me, I pulled a bunch of it on Center Street just the other day. That is an invasive weed and park lovers everywhere are out yanking it up whenever they can. That one former corn field in the southwest corner was the spot, more or less, where I was out watching cows one time and managed to lose a gold watch–not even mine–and I always wonder if somebody, someday will find the thing in a furrow where somebody is planting beans. Didn’t find it that day, hadn’t been plowed.
After that inspection. I went back toward the house and spotted a whole array of bright yellow flowers along the west side of the big equipment barn, growing in the worst possible conditions–construction debris, stones from that, no water source, facing directly into the sun–and apparently they loved it, because some of the plants were close to four feet tall, thick-stemmed and looking just as cheerful as could be. Still don’t have a clue what they are. I took a picture of them (Yes, I can do that on my phone…not much else.). An app that was consulted (Not by me. Are you kidding?) was pretty vague about what they might be and gave two or three possibilities and at least two of them sounded pretty unlikely. Anybody want to take a look and offer an opinion? Take home some samples? Come with me to get more?
After finishing my inspection tour of the farmstead, I decided to cruise on up to town for a look around ( I had already gone to the Farm & Home store– Think non-big-time Tractor Supply, locally-owned–to get a trowel to dig up the flowers.). First stop was the Herrick Memorial Library where I had spent a large portion of my mis-spent adolescence. This was a principal stop of ours–my family–on Saturday nights when all of the farmers came to town. We hit the A&P, the Ben Franklin (and all of the other stores on Main Street), maybe the Brenners’ shoe store (where you could get an X-ray look at our feet in the machine there. It’s a wonder that my toes don’t glow in the dark after the exposure they’ve had; it was fun watching toes wiggle down there.), but all of that came after a stop at the library. It was given to the community by a favorite son, Myron Timothy Herrick, in memory of his parents. He was the U.S. ambassador to France during WWI. It was also a favorite place to study after school from about freshman year on. It also had old National Geographis with naked ladies. There are also a number of paintings by another Wellington icon, Archibald Willard. He was the artist who produced what is commonly known as “The Spirit of ‘76”. He originally called it “Yankee Doodle”; it was of an event held in Wellington on the Fourth of July and featured Willard’s father as the older man in the center, the fifer was his best friend, a Civil War vet and the young boy was a military cadet from Cleveland. The original picture was more in the nature of a cartoon of marchers fooling around but a friend persuaded him to do a more serious version, which was later copyrighted and then actually done in oils on canvas; this was later displayed at a Centennial Art Exhibition in Philadelphia. Willard died in Wellington in 1918. Recreations of the picture are featured in Wellington’s July Fourth parades. Other paintings by Willard can be found in the Herrick Memorial Library–not nearly as inspiring.
Finishing off my nostalgia tour, I bought a Wellington Dukes T-shirt (to backstop my Hiram Terriers one and the major Garfield G-Men wardrobe.). It got hillier as I drove home.
