The Hampton Gazette has held a long tradition of supporting students and recognizing the importance of a quality education. We publish student writing, acknowledge student achievement, and report on student learning when schools submit news to us. So, it is with great pleasure that our editorial board has decided to offer a deserving high school senior from Hampton the opportunity to receive The Hampton Gazette 2023 Scholarship, a $1000 annual award.

Eligibility:

The applicant must be a Hampton resident currently enrolled in a local high school, including Parish Hill High School, Ellis Tech, Windham Tech, the Arts at the Capitol Theater, Lyman Memorial, or any other local high school. Students must be graduating in June of 2023 and planning to attend a college, university or vocational school in the fall of 2023.

Applications:

Applications, available online at hamptongazette .com., are due May 1, 2023. The process is simple to complete, requiring the student’s name, address, phone number, high school and GPA, as well as an opportunity for students to introduce themselves to us through listing their involvement in extra-curricular activities such as sports, student organizations, and academic activities, academic honors, achievements or awards received, participation and volunteerism in community activities or community events, and colleges, universities or vocational schools they plan to attend. The applicant’s signature and a parent/guardian signature is also required.

Scholarship Requirement:

The applicant must complete a 500-750 word essay on “The First Amendment: Freedom of Speech — the Right and the Responsibility”. The essay must include the right that the First Amendment grants us, and the responsibilities that accompany that right, using personal examples or experiences which describe the way “Freedom of Speech” affects their daily life. Applicants must compose their own essays, which must be their original work and a product of their own thinking. Quotations may be used sparingly and must be plainly identified. Applicants must also agree to the publication of their winning essay in the July 2023 edition of The Hampton Gazette, along with their picture.

Applications and essays must be postmarked by May 1, 2023, and mailed to:

The Hampton Gazette

‘Scholarship Application’

P.O. Box 101

Hampton, Ct. 06247.

The scholarship will be awarded on June 1, 2023.

Please contact the Editor at hamptongazette@yahoo.com with questions. We look forward to your contributions and to supporting your educational endeavors.

Editorial Board of The Hampton Gazette

Those of us who are from Hampton are fully aware of the town’s fascinating history. From the “House the Women Built” in the Revolutionary War, through the role our town played in the nation’s abolitionist movement, to the environment that inspired a Pulitzer Prize winning naturalist, Hampton is special.

Recently, Bill Powers, a historian who writes for The Willimantic Chronicle, has become fascinated with us, too. In a series of articles, Mr. Powers has written of “Life in Colonial Hampton”,  relying on Janice Trecker’s Discovering Hampton to answer questions on religious beliefs, education, medicine, and “what’s for dinner?” Subsequent articles on the Civil War referenced Janet and James Robertsons’ All Our Yesterdays for details on the life of a soldier, and excerpts from news clippings in Susan Jewett Griggs’ Folklore and Firesides. Most recently Mr. Powers has come across our rich oral history in the form of Hampton Remembers, Alison Davis’ gift to the people of Hampton as we commemorated our bicentennial.  Alison recorded the memories of residents born here around the turn of the century, their recollections spanning 1885-1950, an era which saw two world wars, a pandemic, a great depression, and the invention of everything that came to mean: convenience – electricity, vehicles, telephones, washing machines, refrigeration, indoor plumbing…the list is endless.

If you haven’t yet read Hampton Remembers, you simply must. I’m fortunate to have my grandmother’s original, which Alison signed, “To Anna, who remembered.” I reach for it when life is overwhelming, troublesome, too fast.  In the 2019 edition, Alison wrote “…we need to keep reminding ourselves of the values we are trying to save and pass on to our children. In this book we can look back to a simpler time and remember what it is we want to preserve.” Precisely. I refer to Hampton Remembers all the time when I write Our Rural History articles, not so much for facts, as for the flavor. Here’s a taste.

Our Homes

When you stop to think of the conveniences we have today that we didn’t have those days…I can remember we had a neighbor had to work and work on her husband to get a covered walk to the outhouse. It was quite a ways out from her kitchen door. Ours was under cover through a shed and a covered alleyway. That made a big difference.

Gertrude Pearl

Our Town

You stopped as you were going along the road, stopped at your neighbor’s, chinned with him a few minutes. Everybody knew one another. You never sent any bills. You never had any contracts. Everything was word o’ mouth and it was worth somethin’!

Harold Stone

Farming and Lumbering

Basic farming has been confined to dairying here, not beef cattle. It has to be fodder, corn and hay and so forth, for dairy cattle, with the prime end-product being milk. What they did a lot then was – you fed ‘em hay and grain, right? You didn’t buy the grain from the West. You grew your corn, you husked the corn. Jirah Hyde down in Bigelow Pond had his grist mill, his saw mill and his cider mill there and you took your corn and you had it all ground into grist and then you’d buy a little brand and you’d mix our own grain. The stalks which were left after you’d husked it out, if you were industrious, you would chop that up and feed that as a form of roughage. Of course you couldn’t make silage if you were going to get ear corn because you have to let it harden on the stalks. The only way you get silage today is to cut it green and it ferments – if you let it go dry you have no silage effect.  

George Fuller

When We Were Children

My mother died when I was five and my sister and I were brought up by my Aunt Cynthia Hammond, my grandmother and the housekeeper. I didn’t have much free time as a kid. From the time I can remember, six or seven years old, I had cows to put out and the hens to take care of, wood to bring in, dishes to wash,  milk cans to wash, and from the time I was ten years old I got up and went to the barn to do the milking and so forth. I had to get around and get to school and I had to get back home and pretty soon after four o’clock I had to take care of hens and get the cows up during the summertime back and forth to pasture. My time was pretty well taken up as a kid.

John Hammond

Our One-Room Schools

When I was in the fourth grade at the Center School I was the fourth grade, lock, stock and barrel. So I got promoted so there were three in the fifth grade, my brother Merriam, Barney Pawlikowski and me. At the back of the Center School they had long benches. The fifth grade had the long bench there and we had one book and we’d open it up, y’know, Barney’d run his eyes down one page and down the other, turn to Merriam and say “Shall I turn?” and Merriam would say “No, I’m still there” and pretty soon he’d finish and they’d say to me “Where are you?” and I’d point at the top of the first page. So finally Barney says “Listen, get your heads in here, I’ll read it to ya.” Very soon I was demoted to the third grade.

Wendell Davis

We Always Went to Church

Avrey Gates could preach a sermon, now I’m telling you! One of the finest ones I can remember, he said as he was coming over Franklin Hill where the view was oh one of the nicest ones around, and he thought, “I look unto the hills from whence Cometh my help, my help cometh from the Lord”, and he preached on that and it was beautiful!

Cora Burdick

Going Places by Buggy, Train and Automobile

The milk train at twelve minutes of seven in the morning, that went east, the ha’ past eight went west – and most of the kids went to high school, went on that, to Willimantic. Ten o’clock there was one went to Putnam, went east. Eleven o’clock there was another one went west. All these I named stopped here. Then there was an express, New York or Boston express, west one day, east the next, but it didn’t stop. If anything was on the track it’d go a mile if it ever hit it – boy, that thing used to go through here! Then there was the ha’ past three train come up from Willimantic, brought the kids back from school, the ha’ past six down to Willimantic, eight o’clock it came back. The mail come on the first one in the mornin’, the first two, three, four – four in the morning and two at night, ha’ past three and ha’ past six.

Russell Thompson

Stores, Mills and Services

When I was a little older I worked at the inn summers. Eunice Fuller, the librarian, and I used to work there together for Annah Burnham. We had to do everything, make beds, prepare the vegetables for Annah to cook, wash dishes, clean the rooms and wait on tables when the people came…Miss Burnham had a pretty good inn there for several years. People stayed quite a while…I don’t know how many rooms there were but I’ve heard a story that one time Annah Burnham gave up her own room and slept on the ironing board. I don’t imagine she slept very much but she rested her bones for a bit.

Ethel Jaworski

Running Our Town

I can remember the snow filled up the road some places right from the top of one stone wall clear over to the top of the wall on the other side. We don’t have the snow today we used to have. In those days, goodness we were really blocked in! And the men used to take heavy sleds and hitch to a horse and try to make sort of a path through it y’know, the best they could with the horse, and then men, town men, had to shovel it out.

Vera Hoffman

We Ate and Danced and Played Together

The Grange was very important during the war years – that was World War II. I was Master at that time and Dot was lecturer. Because of gas rationing those were the days when nobody could get anyplace but you could get to the Grange meetings. Other things were cut down and that gave the Grange an opportunity to emerge. It became more of a social organization than a farming fraternity those years and everybody went. People from all different groups in town went – the Catholics and Protestants, the rich and the poor. Why I’ve seen Jim Goodwin who was a very wealthy man and who owned all of Pine Acres Farm here in town and gave it to the state for a State Forest – I’ve seen him with a dishtowel around his waist wiping dishes —  and he was happy doing it! We all made our own fun and I always thought it was very important to help us get through those war years.

John Holt

Interesting People We Knew

Andrew Ridge was quite a character. His wife was only twenty-six when she died – she got tuberculosis. But evidently it had been a love match and they were very much in love and when she died it was something he never recovered from.  That’s why he began to drink. Then he married again and lost the second wife, too. That was probably the straw that broke the camel’s back and he went on and became an alcoholic. He let the house go to rack and ruin. And he brought the animals in. He lived in that one room and had a fire in the fireplace – in the fall of the year, he’d open the window and put a big log into the room coming through the window and just sawed off pieces as he needed them. The chickens roosted on the bottom of his bed and the pig lived in the little room off the hall there. He would cook potatoes in one of those iron pots – he would fill that with potatoes and cook them over the fire on the hearthstone and then when they were done and cooled off he’d open the door and call the pigs. They’d come in and eat out of the pot and he’d reach down and get a potato and eat right along with the pigs.

Margaret Marcus

Days We’ll Never Forget

When the soldiers came and camped in Bigelow Valley I loved to hear the bugles in the morning and the evening – you could hear them all through the village. They had tents and horses – lots of excitement for the Hampton children.

Evelyn Estabrooks

The following are from the “Treasure Trove” found in Peggy Fox’s attic, which her family has generously given to the Historical Society, the Gazette will be publishing much more in future issues.

 Lawrence Mason: Larry was in Italy when the post office in which he was working was bombed. Had he been at his desk, he would have been killed.

Donald Hoffman: Is now studying to be a crew chief. He works on the ground days and flies evenings.

George Merrell: Who has been stationed in Kansas is now in Texas, where he is taking an advanced pilot’s course.

Richard Fitzgerald: Word has been received that he has been transferred from a camp “deep in the heart of Texas” to one farther south.

Frederick Surridge: His wife and sister Helen have returned after 10 days with him at Camp Campbell, Ky. They report a fine time and that Frederick is looking for a furlough before too long.

Gardiner Lewis: Gardener had expected to get home for a few days but his hope vanished under a new ruling for officers at the base: “No leaves except in an emergency”.

Charlie Barrett: The last week in April he won expert marksmanship with a carbine rifle and received a three-day pass to a nearby city as a reward. He is in chemical warfare in the 90^th Division at Fort Bragg

Werner Koennicke: Left for Camp Devens March 28. After 13 days he was shipped to Camp Plance, New Orleans, at the army air base, where he is training.

Merriam Davis: Has been back in the U. S. since the middle of January after serving as paymaster, supply officer and commissary officer of the 16^th Construction Battalion of the Seabees in the South and Central Pacific area.

George Colburn: Has moved to the Mohave Desert where he works as a mechanic on P-39’s. He is kept busy on 12-hour shifts, 7 days a week, with a little K. P. thrown in for good measure.

Dorothy Howell: A WAVE graduated and, luck being with her, was sent to a camp in R. I. where she is stationed now. She is an airplane mechanic.

Austin Emmons: Writes from New Guinea wild tales – which he claims are gospel truth! He relates an incidence on a stormy night, with poor visibility, when he went on guard duty after reading a ghost story. Returning from duty, he spied a huge, bulky object looming out of the rain and cracked it with his billy club. It turned out to be a raincoat on a hanger. Irrepressible as ever, Austin offers the moron’s definition of a drizzle: a drip going steady.

And in Their Own Words…

Kurt Koennicke: Well, I’m still getting training here in England. I think I’ve had enough of it, but these other people (I don’t know who) don’t seem to think so. I enjoyed the trip over here a lot. Most of the fellows were sick, but I wasn’t. The more it rocked, the more I liked it. But the food was terrible! It looks nice here in England, but that’s where it stops. Most everything is rationed here, including cigarettes and razor blades.

Charlie Halbach: This is a ticklish job. These Sgts. see a young squirt of a gun mechanic coming in to take care of their guns and they feel they know enough to take care of them by themselves. We mechanics have to soften these birds up to a point where we can tell them what is really wrong with the gun and make them have confidence in us. The other day we were checking carbines for stoppages. A fellow rushed up to the Lt. pointing the gun at him and said, I have a stoppage, sir. You can imagine what the Lt. told him!

Malcolm Burdick: I can imagine what people at home would say, if the church were as cold as this one was this morning. I guess people here are tough. The people were very friendly and greeted us cordially. I have talked with English people on many occasions and they seem extremely friendly.

Stella Arendarczyk: Here’s our daily set-up: we’re up for reveille at 5:45; twice a week we have drill, one hour each day. I have a platoon of about 50 girls. Twice a week we have physical training. We march the troops in formation to breakfast at 7 o’clock. From then on until 5 p.m. the girls go to their various jobs. In the evening they are free. Lights are out at 9:30; they have bed checks at 11 during the weeks and 12 on Sundays. Saturday nights, no bed checks. So it’s not such a bad set-up at all. We have the service club on the post and various recreational facilities. Dayton is just 10 miles from the post. Bob Hope and his cast were here yesterday to entertain the whole squadron.

Steven Neborsky:  Yesterday P.M.  I got paid. That is the best day in the army. I received 18 lbs, 14 shillings and 3 pence, which would be $74.85 in American money. Boy that’s the most money I’ve received since I’ve been in the army – all at one time. I finally bought the bicycle I was planning to buy. I paid 7 lbs. for it, which would be $28. That’s probably too much money, but, boy, I can tell you it is much better than walking to the nearby town or city. The other night the Sgt. and I went to the movies in town and saw a good cowboy picture. In the newsreel they said something about New London, Conn, and boy, I nearly fell through the seat! I really was surprised to hear something about 1 of the cities near home all the way over here. Boy, oh boy!

Arthur Pearl: Hope you are fine. I am so far. Went swimming this morning and was the water good and warm in Italy! I go to a show now and then. I’ll have plenty to tell when I get home, which I hope won’t be too long. Boy, will it be good to get back home again!

 -from the “Treasure Trove” found in Peggy Fox’s attic, which her family has generously given to the Historical Society

Clarence E. Thornton passed away on February 6, 2023. He was 101 years old. Born on July 8, 1921, he lived in Hampton for most of his life, where he and his wife Shirley, who predeceased him, raised their children, where he painted many of the town’s houses, and where he frequently portrayed Abraham Lincoln, because of a strong resemblance, in our Memorial Day Parades. A longer-lasting presence in our Memorial Day commemorations was his annual recognition, for eighty years, as a veteran. Clarence was our last surviving soldier of World War II.

Enlisting in the United States Army on December 10, 1942, at the age of 21, Clarence was inducted into the Armed Forces at Fort Devens and received basic training in Arkansas before crossing the Atlantic on the troop carrier that delivered him to the European Theater. His tour of duty afforded him a “panoramic view” of the war, and its dangers, in England, France, Belgium and Germany.

Though England was the most benign of stations, Clarence’s troop was the target of sniper fire, which they fortunately all escaped, while camping on the beach there. In France, Clarence drove ten-ton trucks to dispatch supplies to troops on the front lines. Serving with the 2617^th Quartermasters Truck Company, he hauled ammunition hidden in apple orchards to the front lines and transported bombs from the depot to the staging areas. Always close to enemy lines, his truck was pelleted with bullets once, yet the real danger was driving on narrow roads at night with no headlights. In Antwerp, Belgium, Clarence distributed supplies brought in from the North Sea. His military career ended in Germany, where he was part of a convoy transporting ammunition, and where he was stationed when the end of the war was announced with the simple words, “pack up your stuff, you’re going home”.

Relics of Clarence’s service — his dog tags, theater ribbons, a submarine gun medal, a 3^rd army patch and a 14^th army division patch, a sharp shooter medal which he claimed was earned from one “lucky shot” — these were kept in his Hampton home, where four generations of Thorntons lived toward the end of Clarence’s life. Our condolences to his family, his sons Keith and Robert Thornton, and his daughters Patricia Goodwin, Sandra Storey, Sharron Dickson and Sharlene Thornton, his grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Here in Hampton we escaped many of the consequences of Covid-19, living far from the close quarters of urban areas, with a school small enough to accommodate all of the students during the days of social distancing, and plenty of nature preserves to spend time in while we were isolating. We did not, however, escape the worst aspect of the pandemic, the death of loved ones. Here we pay tribute to two of our neighbors who we lost to this dreadful disease and tragic chapter of American history.   

Duska Anne Meister Waite passed away on December 10, 2021 surrounded by her loved ones. She was 61 years old. Born in Meriden on June 10, 1960, Duska was the daughter of Dr. Jack and Dawn Meister. The family moved to Hampton in 1971, and Duska graduated from Parish Hill in 1978. A communicant of Our Lady of Lourdes Church, she taught catechism for several years there.

Duska was known for her heart of gold and was always putting everyone’s needs before her own. She was always spending quality time with her family, especially her grandchildren, whom she absolutely adored. For the last 14 years she was employed at Walmart, where every one of us who knew Duska took the opportunity to talk with her. I’d look forward to visiting with her there. She’d tell me how her grandchildren were doing, and ask about my boys, no matter how busy she was. We’d talk about small town drama. But she’d always get back to talking about her grandkids. She was just so thrilled to be a grandma. Her eyes would sparkle with love and pride. Duska always looked for the good in everyone, and was able to find it, even if it was hard to see. The town extends condolences to her family, her mother, her husband of 41 years Neal Waite, her two children, Jessica and Benjamin, her five grandchildren, Emily, Elly Boyle, Austin, Connor, and Derek Waite. She will be deeply missed by all who had the pleasure of knowing her.
                                                                                                                                                                            Becky Gagne

Brenda J. Burke-DeSantos  passed away on August 29, 2021 at the age of 52. She was born on May 19, 1969 to James (Skip) and Dorothy (Dot) Landry from Scotland. She graduated in 1987 from Parish Hill High School. Brenda left behind her husband of 13 years, Carlos DeSantos, her five children, Forrest, Brittany, Stephanie, Courtney and. Sierra; two step children, Tricia and Reece, all of their significant others and eight beautiful grandchildren (ninth on the way!) who she absolutely adored. She will be greatly missed but always remembered by her parents, husband, children, grandchildren, siblings and so many extended family and close friends. If you had the privilege of knowing Brenda, you were likely to have been greeted by a big bright smile and the best of hugs (occasionally delicious cookies too!) She was always known for being a joyful person full of love for anyone and everyone. She was her husband’s best friend, her children’s biggest supporter, and world’s best “Grammy”. Many knew her as “mama B” because she loved all as her own. Her most favorite days started with a top down Jeep ride to the beach where she could spend all day basking in the sun to then come home and snuggle up with her very spoiled little dogs. She was also known by name at the local Dunkin Donuts and could not wait for the time of year she could order a Pumpkin Spice coffee every day! Her love was so great it was felt by many across the country. We pray all those she loved, continue to love others the way she did.

Sierra Burke Grigos

Green  Energy

Any responsible person would agree that we need to be good stewards of the environment.  Safe renewable energy is a reasonable and responsible goal.  To that end electric vehicles, hybrid vehicles and solar panels have become an increasingly common feature in our world. As the saying goes: It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

In the event of a structure fire the presence of solar panels make an already hazardous situation even more complex.  Much depends on their location, configuration and distribution. In Hampton the most common location for solar panels is on the roof.  In the event of a structure fire firefighters frequently need access to the roof.  In most cases it is possible to disconnect the solar feed running into the house but so long as there is light hitting the panels, be it sunlight, light from the fire, or from engine spotlights, the panels and lines feeding to the breaker will remain energized.

Water and electricity are not a good mix and without taking additional precautions a firefighter can be in for a really bad day. This is not to say the situation is hopeless – just more challenging. The fire must be attacked safely and from a safe distance. House fires often require venting from the roof.  Cutting through solar panels presents risk of electric shock, even electrocution.

Why do fire fighters cut holes in the roof of a building on fire (venting)?  Dangerous gases and dark smoke accumulate in a burning building. It is impossible for firefighters to see in this environment.  When a hole is made in the roof, smoke and gasses escape.  Venting the roof makes it easier for firefighters to locate the source of the fire and reduces the possibility of back draft and flashover.

Another reason for venting the roof is to see how far the fire has progressed. One of the fastest routes through which a fire progresses is the attic.  Heat and smoke rise to the attic where the fire can spread quickly. Firefighters may go ahead of the fire and cut holes in the roof to release heat and slow/stop the fire from spreading through the attic.  Solar panels limit where a firefighter may safely and effectively vent the roof.

In and of themselves solar panels do not present a significant risk of fire. Their presence simply adds to the challenge of extinguishing fire when it has started.  One possible cause of fire is critters. Critters may nest under the panels and idle away their time gnawing wires until a short arcs and ignites debris or nests. (Critters present a similar hazard when they get inside the walls of a structure.) Some parts of the panel may combust but the panel itself can force the fire down into the structure.  To extinguish the fire water must be concentrated between the panel and the roof.  Putting water on the panel is of little use.  Fire coming up from inside the house presents the same sort of problem.

There are a number of hazardous and toxic materials included in the construction of solar panels.  When solar panels  ignite they  produce toxic smoke, adding one more piece to the puzzle the firefighter must deal with and protect himself/herself from.

That being said, there have been and continue to be steady improvements in safety and installation of solar panels.  With the constant advances in technology we can never expect zero risk. Knowing, respecting and mitigating risks is the key to creating a safe as possible living and working environment.  Be safe.

During the month of January members of the Hampton Fire Company logged 80 man hours responding to 21 emergency dispatches.  Thirty-two man hours were spent on EMS training.  Another 40 man hours were spent at administrative meetings and other unrecorded services.

Fire House Dog

According to the Connecticut Department of Social Services packet entitled: “Planning for Future Healthcare Decisions”, an advance directive is a legal document where you may provide preferences regarding your healthcare and/or appoint someone to make healthcare decisions for you. Advance directives include the Living Will and the Appointment of a Healthcare Representative documents.

A living will is a document that states your wishes regarding what kind of healthcare you wish to receive, such as life support interventions to keep you alive. A living will goes into effect if you are unable to communicate or make decisions.

A healthcare representative is a person you authorize, in writing, to make any and all healthcare decisions for you in the event you are unable to make them yourself.

Advance Directives can be prepared at any age to insure that your wishes are known in the event of a medical crisis or accident where you are unable to make your wishes known. Advance Directives do not require an attorney or a notary. Documents must be signed in the presence of two witnesses. A copy of your Advance Directive should be given to your primary physician.

An Advance Directive packet can be found on the State of Connecticut-Attorney General website at: portal.ct.gov/ag   search for: living will. If you have any questions about advance directives, contact Hampton’s Agent for the Elderly at 860-208-2430 or at Hampton Town Hall on the first Thursday of every month from 5-7pm.

Jane Cornell

To Auntie Mac:

We recently reunited for a family holiday dinner at one of our relatives, and apparently cell phones are now permitted at the table – is this acceptable now? It never was in our family. Is this another repercussion of Covid? That video conversations are fine during dinner, or maybe even in vogue? Are we wrong to insist that our teenagers refrain from this?

Sign us,

Old Fashioned

My Dear Neighbor:

The other evening Auntie Mac was fortunate enough to be escorted to the opera by an old acquaintance from Princeton Day School. We decided to dine at Elements, since they serve a marvelous 5-course chef’s tasting menu and the persimmon biscuit with tahitensis vanilla is to die for. We were seated near the hearth, chatting about the mezzo soprano, who was not at all on par with the material, but I digress, when I realized that the room was full of insects. I feared they must have come round the hearth to avoid the cold. There was such a cacophony of chirping, buzzing, and, and on occasion, quacking, that I feared I had ended up not at a quiet and exclusive boite but at the Trenton Zoo. I then saw with horror that diners throughout the room were looking not at each other but studiously downward to the table on which all manner of devices were sitting, from cellphones to iPads to tablets. I sent a steely stare to my companion, who was in the process of removing something from his own jacket pocket, and which he sheepishly put back.

The experience was so distracting that the dessert biscuit held no joy. I was assaulted by the unimportant and constant external communication from people I did not even know. The low, evening hum of dinnertime conversation was completely replaced with dinging, buzzing, and ringing. No one ever looked up to converse with their companions; it was as though the entire real experience of being in a beautiful public place with other people was eclipsed by a collective dive into the electronic abyss—the present moment held no meaning or pleasure.

If you have not already guessed, dear, Auntie Mac considers rude behavior the eighth deadly sin. Ignoring one’s fellow persons, when they are right in front of you speaking, or eating, or trying to engage you in some way, is not only the height of rudeness, it demonstrates a profound disrespect and a great deal of arrogance. It speaks to a severely damaged attention span, a poor upbringing (or amnesia of any upbringing at all), and frankly a lack of self-evaluation. Why ever should a cell phone and what it contains take precedence over a current activity? Is the Almighty on the other end? Will the world cease to spin if one does not immediately forge an empire or crush candy?

One may think that the journey from Auntie Mac’s Alma Mater to Ram Dass is long and convoluted, but one would be mistaken. She has always abided by that wise maxim: Be Here Now. My advice to you is: impress upon your children that it is appropriate and courteous to be fully present during family gatherings—their own, or other people’s. The actual, tangible present may not at times be as exciting as the virtual present, but it is real, and it is fleeting, and it is to be honored.

Your Auntie Mac

I’m not an artist. I can’t draw a stick man, never could.  Never progressed further than finger painting. My proclivity for mud pies didn’t extend to sculpting even with play doh, and I’m downright dangerous with a camera, heads and appendages lopped off photographs in unfortunate ways. In short, my artistic endeavors are confined to gardens and the written word.

Our daughter, India, is majoring in Early Childhood and Art, and while we can converse on educational topics, acronyms and all, when she discusses her art assignments, she’s speaking a foreign language. However, she’s currently taking a course on color theory and is somewhat shocked that I can speak to this subject. Terms such as primary, complimentary, analogous, saturation, value and hue are not lost on me. This is because color is usually the first word on gardening. It’s what attracts gardeners to gardening, and non-gardeners to gardens.  There are volumes devoted solely to the subject, and books on gardening always provide at least one chapter on color, and usually several. I’ve written an article on every color, as well as columns on color “Compositions”, “Echoes” and “Links”.  I’ve never penned anything on the topic of the colors of wildflowers versus those of cultivars and considered that such an article could encourage their growth. When it comes to color, there’s nothing comparable to nature, nothing as blue as a blue bird, as scarlet as a robin’s throat, as red as the wing of a cardinal. This is true for wildflowers as well.

Saturated reds are rare in the garden, and since a single stroke claims center stage, rarity is a good thing; too much red is fatiguing. Cardinal flower is a pure red; the only perennial close to its degree of saturation is bee balm.  Its blooms are vibrant but not brash.  Frequently found along rivers, it can be cultivated where there’s partial shade and plenty of moisture. An infusion of blue results in the subtler crimson, and the subtlest of these is trillium, three wine-colored petals splayed across three greenish sepals to form delicate stars on the woodland floor. “Trinity flower” requires soil rich in nutrients and shade. Infuse a little yellow and you have scarlet, as in the eastern columbine, its court jester cap successfully pairing an impossible combination of red spurs and petals with prominent yellow stamens. In spite of their striking colors, they are a gentle presence in the garden.

Yellow wildflowers are the most plentiful, and provide the greatest range of color, from palest primrose to deepest gold. Though I haven’t found a space sufficiently moist for marsh marigolds, they’re worth the search, an arresting sight in early spring where they glow in swamps veiled in pale green leaves and cloaked in emerald mosses.  Other saturated yellows – spring’s buttercups, summer’s black-eyed Susans, and fall’s goldenrod – all common in fields, self-sow easily, yet not invasively, in gardens. While the palest yellow familiar to most gardeners is found in “Moonbeam” coreopsis, the wildflower ‘cinquefoil’ is an even softer hue. Other gentle yellows are trout lily, a woodland dweller named for the mottled foliage resembling the markings of the fish, and mullein, a native biennial with buttery blossoms rising on five foot stalks over velvety, silver rosettes of foliage. These transplant from inhospitable ditches to the garden where they’ll self-sow if the soil is sufficiently sandy.

Blue is more elusive in the wild than the other primary colors. A clear blue is found in “corn flower”. Though common along gravely roadsides, I’ve never seen it cultivated, however the perennial “bachelor button”, belonging to the same family, a fringe of saturated blue petals circling a crimson center, is a lovely alternative. While violets are too invasive for the garden, the pale bluets, those sprinklings on spring lawns, and the subtle blue-eyed grass, are always welcome. Lupine, a saturated indigo, from the spires of coastal Maine to the “blue bonnets” carpeting Texas, has naturalized here as well, as have the “lady’s bells” which have adapted to the wild to provide our late summer fields with a milder blue. One of fall’s last flowers, the wild blue aster, is a personal favorite. Completely unfussy, it self-sows profusely, softening like a cloud the stiff stalks, and more vibrant colors, of New England asters with billowing blossoms from palest to deepest blue.

Wildflowers of secondary shades are also gentler than those of most cultivars. Gardener’s purple is neither the pale lavender of stokesia nor the deep violet of salvias, which are considered “blue”, but rather the color of chinacea’s petals and liatris’s stalks, both native to other regions of the country. The spiny, purple flower of the native thistle is a wonderful discovery rising four feet in the garden where foot traffic is safe from its prickly leaves. Gold finches visit frequently for seeds and down for nests. Joe Pye Weed impresses with its mauve blossoms on six foot stalks, a favorite of butterflies. Native geraniums, purple petals veined and tinged pink, form pastel cushions, though this plant offers a range of mellow cultivars, from palest pink to periwinkle. And lastly, the lady’s slipper. Is there a gentler plant?  Its hue is dependent on its placement, though we are fortunate in the soft mauve of this wild orchid in our shade garden.

The lily “Stella de Oro” rims city streets, its orange trumpets providing color for months all on its own, a good thing as it complements few flowers.  Conversely, several bright orange wildflowers blend easily with perennials. Butterfly weed bears clusters of red-orange and yellow-orange flowers, attractive to butterflies and to children when their pods open to scatter seeds on fluffy parachutes. Another childhood favorite, jewel weed, is also attractive to pollinators with its orange petals and sepals with bittersweet flecks. Its pods explode into curlicues to reveal the gem, the turquoise seed, inside. The tiger lily, a five foot plant with re-curved orange flowers with brown freckles, is stunning through the mahogany foliage of ninebark or smoke tree, its rhizomes spreading in moist, well-drained, soil. Blanket flower is a less prevalent native, a composite with red centers and red-orange petals with yellow tips, its fiery array partnering with other fiery hues in the garden.

I’m a proponent of growing wildflowers in the garden, as pollinators and partners of perennials. They contribute structure, as in a stalk of black cohosh, or another layer as in a veil of Queen Anne’s lace, or a familiar cheeriness, as in a spurt of daisies. Their unique colors are another reason to grow them. Their saturated shades are, miraculously, never flashy, their gentlest hues are magically luminous, and the most ephemeral of them still leave a lasting impression.

Dayna McDermott