Surely your correspondent is hardly alone in being distressed by the way autumn and Thanksgiving are trampled in the Christmas creep/rush. Fall is the favourite season of many, yet it seems we’re expected to ignore it in the name of Christmas busy-ness.
Isn’t that a shame? And I’m a summer woman, through and through!
I know today is December first, and thus really and truly the start of winter, but let’s take a few final moments to enjoy autumn: the rich fragrances, the sight of falling leaves and the delightful crunch of them underfoot, copious amounts of sunshine combined with an awakening nip in the air, the last glorious riot of colour meant to tide us through the dark, grey stretch of winter now shouldering its way in. Shall we?
That may be my longest post title yet, but that’s barely half the name of of this pretty covered bridge—”The Mink Hollow Covered Bridge in Oil Mill Hollow Over Arney Run Near Borcher’s Mill”! That means this bridge has the longest name of any covered bridge in the nation, something I was unaware of when photographing the structure.
Built by Jacob Brandt in 1887, the bridge is 51 feet long and stands on its original sandstone abutments. Part of one of Fairfield County’s historic parks, crosses Arney Mill Run in Lancaster; the “Oil Mink Hollow” part comes from the days when a flaxseed-pressing mill stood nearby.
The Mink Hollow Covered Bridge et cetera, et cetera, et cetera boasts of not just a long name, but also an unusual structure—if I understand correctly, its central X-brace, combined with multiple Kingpost through truss, are unique to the Buckeye State. This is one of eighteen (or sixteen; there seems to be disagreement) covered bridges in Fairfield County—eighteen remaining of the county’s original two hundred and twenty! Indeed, Fairfield County can still boast of having more covered bridges than any other county in Ohio.
There are reports that the bridge is illuminated at night—I may have to go back for that after a really good snow despite the cold. Wouldn’t those make lovely photos?
In a now-quiet Ohio Valley steel town—right around the corner from the famously abandoned car dealership—stands a building so grand for its purpose, it’s difficult to believe it was simply a greenhouse and florist. The English Tudor-style building is so very handsome it seems to have been plucked from one of Britain’s verdant fields and plunked in the centre of fields of concrete instead; that it is flanked by massive, overgrown greenhouses made it an even more outstanding sight.
This is not the original Riverview florist and greenhouse headquarters (nor the last); that caught fire in 1935. The Tudor edifice in my photographs was designed by East Liverpool architect Robert Beatty, with the admonition he include pieces of the old greenhouse building—specifically, charred beams rescued from the ashes of the original. These Beatty integrated into the French doors leading to the greenhouses. Presumably, there they remain, future success built, as it nearly always is, on the success of the past.
You’re probably thinking this enterprise must have been at least a little successful for such an impressive structure to serve a florist & greenhouse during the Great Depression, and you’re right. It’s such a marvellous story, too!
Timing is everything, as we all know. Zipping down one of Ohio’s many country roads, I spotted this “Frank” doing its work in the fields. There wasn’t even time to hop out of the car—but I’m still very happy with this shot! A fine stroke of luck. All the shot is missing is a kindly-looking middle-aged farmer, proudly surveying the activity on his farm (he’s probably the fellow driving the harvester).
Also, random internet user tip….Have you been glaring angrily at your computer due to its not performing correctly? As in, you’re unable to post to Flickr, your blog, or even see letters on webpages?
Reinstall the browser. You’ll save yourself two full days of frustration and re-booting your computer thinking it is the one responsible for your problems.
A sight often seen throughout the state of Ohio—fields divided by treeline. The large tree, its branches arcing toward the sky as if making an offering its bounty of leaves, is what truly caught my eye here; as we were zipping by at about 60, I’m quite happy this turned out as it did!
Despite the fact that central Ohio is supposedly in line for another bout of ugly wintry weather this week, I really won’t be able to get away with sharing snowy photos like this one with you for much longer, will I? Not only is spring nearing, I suspect most of us are thoroughly sick and tired of winter, this one in particular. Even so, this log cabin is so winsome—it seemed the perfect cure for a Monday (the Monday after Daylight Savings Time, no less).
You’ve probably already guessed that this cabin stands at the aforementioned Dawes Arboretum, and you are correct. The Dawes family built this cabin, for use as a summertime retreat, during the 1920s, using hand-hewn logs as well as beams from a barn built in the 1800s already on the property. Personally speaking, I thought the chimney was just beautiful—it almost seems to have an Arts & Crafts influence (I’m probably wrong). Continue reading →
While going through my archives searching for photos to include in last week’s post about ghost signs, this wry neon sign I stumbled across several years ago came up, and it seemed to be just perfect for a Monday Escape despite the obvious disadvantage a five-foot-tall woman suffers when trying to photograph something atop a building. We’re all going to end up six feet under at some point, and the folks at Stevenson Memorials aren’t in any hurry to see us there; they just want our business when we’re, ah, ready. Continue reading →