The Soul Man Gets A Home

Poor sweet baby Soul.  He was the sole survivor of a litter of five.

After I bottle-fed him to adolescence, what was I to do with him?  Sugar offered for Soul to live at his grooming & boarding business.

Now, that’s a sleepy baby.  I was standing right over him taking his picture.

He grew bigger, and yet bigger, and learned to play with Errol.

The mighty jungle cat disguises himself as a peaceful cheetah, and lies in wait for his prey.

Car E. and Errol inspect the ferocious black panther.

Errol: “Soul, first you must learn to be stealthy. Soul. Soul! Where did you go?”

Gerald is worried about the mighty panther. Gerald is worried about almost everything, especially scary storms.

And the baby grew some more.  Errol taught him how to greet guests and to book appointments.

Soul: “This appointment book appears to be full.”

Errol really knows how to greet the clients.

Soul: “Hello, may I have your nom, I mean *name*, please?”

One day a lady saw him and fell in love.

She decided to adopt him.

Before she arrived to pick him up, Errol gave him one last going-over.

Errol: “And don’t forget to wash behind your ears.”

Errol: “And clean here…”

Errol: “And don’t forget there…”

Errol and Soul: “Was that a car door?!”

Soul was swept up and away to his new home.  Errol was sad, but only for a little while, because what seems like the end is really a new beginning.

Hey, Hey, Hey, It’s Father’s Day: 2013 Edition

A lady brought me a little orange kitten with the umbilical cord still attached and eyes still closed.  His little head was elongated like he had recently slid through the birth canal.  I popped him in with the remaining three kittens from the most recent bottle-fed litter.  He snuggled right in.

Sugar and I headed over to Laurel Grove Cemetery even though neither of us has a father there.  To be fair, Sugar has a great-grandfather there, which is not the real reason we went.

We are looking at the crape myrtles, the ones that Sugar cut back earlier this year.  Surely these are the most photographed crape myrtles in Laurel Grove.

Perhaps the ONLY photographed crape myrtles in Laurel Grove.

Big shout-out to William and Alice Garrard.

That wad of sticks, right there, is an actual bird’s nest. Said bird appears to have the same sort of housekeeping ethic as YoursTruly.

Then we went to Panera Bread so that we could sit on the patio with the kittens-in-a-basket and enjoy our lunch.

Doesn’t everyone carry around kittens in a laundry basket?  No one gave us any weird looks, or acted curious as to why we kept peeping in the laundry basket.  They appeared too wrapped up in their own Father’s Day dramas.

Hope your Father’s Day was happy and full of kittens!  What’s that you say?  Not everyone celebrates with kittens?  That is too sad to even think about….

A Lawton Reunion AfterParty, June 9, 2013

It’s these little connections that mean so much.

When Sugar and I go on a trip, or solve a history mystery, or make a cousin connection, there’s a mellow little glow that goes on for several days, weeks, or months afterward.

Like I’ll call him on the phone while he’s out on his route, and he’ll say that he’s thinking about the trip (or whatever), and it helps him get through the day.

So now, even though we just spent an evening and a day tramping around old Lawton haunts, he needs to go back to Robertville after the Lawton family reunion, and check out some gravestones.

And that’s what we do.

We drove back to the Robertville Baptist Church to view the graves of Alexander James Lawton and his two wives, Martha Mosse Lawton and Cordelia P. Lawton.

I brought along some supplies to attempt to make the inscriptions legible.  We had in our arsenal several items:  art paper for taking a rubbing, a sketching pencil, tape, vinegar, and an old soft toothbrush.

It was too windy for the paper to be held down by tape, plus the tape was not sticking to the stones.  I tried without success, because that’s just how I do things.  I’ve ruled out things without actually trying them, and then found out later that I should have reversed the process:  try, then rule out.

We didn’t have any cornstarch like we saw the lady using the day before at the Robert Cemetery.  We could probably have walked across the highway to the little market, but we felt committed to the vinegar.  You could rub the vinegar with your hand across the top of the stone and watch the grime disintegrate, then the dark vinegar would run into the indentions and highlight the inscriptions.  The old toothbrush helped.

Martha Mosse Lawton

IN MEMORY

MRS. MARTHA LAWTON

Consort of

Col. Alexr. J. Lawton,

Who departed this life

on the 26^th July 1836,

Aged 47 years, 10 months & 21 days.

Beloved and regretted by all her

Friends & acquaintances.

In the various relations of Daughter,

Mother, Friend, & Wife,

and as an humble follower of

Jesus Christ.

She acted her part

with

usefulness & Honor.

Alexander James Lawton

THROUGH THE GATE OF DEATH

PASSED TO HIS JOYFUL RESURRECTION

April 8 1876

in the 86^th Year

of his Age.

ALEXANDER JAMES LAWTON

Active & self-sacrificing in the

discharge of every public, charitable,

social & religious duty.

Honored & beloved

As widely as he was known.

This monument is a token of the

gratitude of his devoted sons for his

useful life.  Length of days Happily

lived & peacefully closed.

*****
Patient continuance in well doing

Glory

Honor

Immortality

Eternal life

Cordelia P. Lawton

IN MEMORY

of the

Worth and Virtues

MRS CORDELIA P. LAWTON

Wife of

Alexr. J. LAWTON.

She was born in Germany, Europe.

And when a small child brought by her parents

to this Country.

She removed to Black Swamp, Beaufort District, So. Ca.

as the wife of him who mourns her loss,

about 19 years since a stranger,

and by her active and pious attention

to all the duties of life,

secured the affection or respect

of a wide circle of friends.

She died at her home of Paralyses,

11^th September, 1856,

Aged 57 years 8 months and 16 days

She was strong in faith in her Saviour

and professed his name as a Baptist

more than 20 years.

As her life was useful so her end was peaceful.

Life’s labor done, as sinks the day.

Light from its land the Spirit flies.

While heaven and earth combine to say,

How blest the righteous when she dies.

*****

I’ve noticed a trend that I’m disturbed about.  I use these cemetery photos to create memorials on www.findagrave.com.  Sometimes I don’t rush right over to www.ancestry.com to put these very same cemetery photos into a family tree.  I’ve seen my photos lifted by someone else, two people in particular, from findagrave and put onto ancestry as their own.  Ancestry.com has a feature that allows someone else to “borrow” the photo from someone else’s tree and place it in their own tree.  I’m highly annoyed when I see that someone has stolen a photo of mine (thus I own the copyright) and put it out there in the big world as their own.  I experimented with a random stone by adding my identification to it, so if someone steals it, the credit who be embedded in the photo.

I’m horrified at how tacky it looks, so I suppose I will leave well enough alone, and just pout about thievery.

In memory of

EUSEBIA SARAH

LAWTON,

third daughter of

Col. Alexr. J. Lawton &

Martha, his consort,

who died on Black Swamp

So. Ca., 28 March 1816,

aged 15 months and

11 days.

GEORGE MOSS LAWTON

Born

November 9, 1820

Died

April 3, 1878.

Do you remember George Moss(e) Lawton?  Sarah Alexander Lawton wrote about his demise in her journal.  He was the brother of her husband Alexander Robert Lawton, so they of course were two of the children of Alexander James Lawton and his wife Martha Mosse Lawton.

In memory of

THIRZA LAWTON

second daughter of

Col. Alex^r. J. Lawton &

Martha his consort,

who died on Blackswamp

So. Ca. 21 Oct. 1817

aged 4 years 10 mo. &

28 days.

Thirza Lawton is another child of Alexander James Lawton and his wife Martha Mosse Lawton.  Her death is mentioned in Alexander James Lawton’s plantation journal, which is at the Georgia Historical Society, in transcribed form.  I’ll write about that later.

IN MEMORY OF

CAPTAIN EDWARD PAYSON LAWTON, C.S.A.

Edward Payson Lawton is yet another child of Alexander James Lawton and his wife Martha Mosse Lawton.  He was the youngest child, and was small when his mother died.  He died on the Confederate side during the Civil War, thus the “C.S.A.” after his name.

While I was photographing, I saw a small movement at my feet.  Needless to say, I was startled at movement in a graveyard, because I, too, saw the Stephen King movie “Carrie”.  It was just Mr. Turtle.  Thank goodness.

This should teach everyone to travel with a jug of white vinegar at all times.  A BIG jug.  We ran out.

From Amelia County To Richmond

After the excitement of finding the Wigwam and not getting apprehended for trespassing, we headed on to Richmond.  We had reservations at the Museum District B&B, west of downtown.

We missed our exit.  Suddenly I realized the area we were in was sketchy, that we had gone far too far, and that we were almost into Richmond proper.  We found ourselves heading on a bridge over the Appomattox James River, and Sugar crowed, “It’s the Mayo Bridge!  That’s my people!”

Yes, of course, he’s related to the Mayo family, too.  And we would not have seen the Mayo bridge had we not missed the correct exit.  He was as happy as a pig in slop over that, but me?  I was nervous that we were stuck on a circular path in downtown Richmond.  We pulled over, and checked the map.  Again.

Somehow we found our way to where we were supposed to be.

We stayed in the garage.

Well, not exactly the garage. It was a cute little freestanding garage apartment.

It was behind the main building next to the parking area. There’s a little porch that looks out on the patio between it and the house.

Y’all, that was a lot of history for twenty-four hours.  I need a nap.

Onward To Amelia County, Virginia: On The Trail Of William Starr Basinger & Margaret Roane Garnett

From Petersburg to Amelia County, there is no direct route. It’s a good example of a classic dilemma in the South when giving directions: “You can’t get there from here.” Anyone not from the South can’t quite understand the logic, but it’s true, nonetheless. You have to go somewhere else to get to where you are going.

Day Two of the trip:  We puzzled over the map, Pop-eye style, and saw that we were going to have to sort out a path while we were on the way.  Google was no help; it sent us somewhere else to get to where we wanted to go, in true Southern fashion.

It wasn’t so much that we wanted to see Amelia Courthouse, but it seemed that we could reconnoiter when we got there.  Our true mission was to find the plantation The Oaks, even though the house had been moved from there to Richmond almost one hundred years ago.  And perhaps some lunch could be found.

We crossed over the Amelia County line.  Not far into Amelia County, we passed by an old building with an odd collection of items and a man in a recliner on the front porch.  He called out to us as we passed by, and Sugar said to turn around and go back to see if the man knew where Mattoax was.

Turns out, the man didn’t know where it was, so perhaps it didn’t exist any more.  If anyone knew where Mattoax was, it should have been this man, but after further conversation, he had only been out of the state of Virginia a few times in his life.  He asked where we were from, and when we said South Carolina, he looked wistful and said he had always wanted to go to South Carolina.  His name was Jimmy Olgers, and he was the high mayor and proprietor of Olgers Museum.  He said that this great-grandfather was in the battle at Saylor’s Creek.  Sugar didn’t chime in and say that his great-grandfather had been there, too.  He let the man have his moment and wax rhapsodic about the good old days.

He invited us into his museum, but declined to accompany us because of health reasons.  The museum was actually the house he grew up in; he said that he was born in the back room.  There were things there that should have been kept in a climate-controlled vault, like books and newspapers.  There were hand-lettered memorials to his family members where Jimmy had listed names and relationships and dates of birth and death.  It was the most unusual collection of items I had ever seen, like kewpie dolls, advertising signs, utensils, tools, and bric-a-brac.

There was a collection urn at the entrance for donations for the upkeep of the museum.  Sugar dropped in a donation.  After we finished the tour, we stopped back at the front porch, and Mr. Jimmy talked some more.

He eyeballed Sugar, and said, “How old are you?”

Sugar:  How old do you think I am?

Mr. Jimmy:  Take off your hat!

(Sugar removed his ball cap.)

Mr. Jimmy:  Seventy-one!

(One of the reasons I call him Sugar is because his hair is white like sugar.  There’s other reasons, too.)

Sugar:  (exhales loudly)

Sugar:  That’s right.  (Not true.)

Mr. Jimmy:  (Delightedly)  I knew it!  I’m always right!

Mr. Jimmy:  Why, that woman is twenty-five years younger than you!

YoursTruly:  Heh!  (Sugar clapped his ball cap back on his head.)

Mr. Jimmy:  She’s your *second* wife, isn’t she?

Sugar:  (Nodding his head.)  That’s right.  (He considered retrieving his donation.)

We said good-bye to Mr. Jimmy, who started talking about a Civil War battle that happened across the road at his ancestor’s house, and we headed in a westerly direction.

Somehow, we made it to Amelia Courthouse, the county seat where the historical society was located.  It was closed – the historical society, not the county seat – because it was Memorial Day, duh us, but also due to construction.

Well, now, that’s awkward.  The only day in our life to be in Amelia County for historical research, and we are going to have to rely on our notes, our memories, and Sugar’s great-grandfather’s Book of Reminiscences, and then we discover that he has forgotten the book.

At this point, it hardly mattered, because there is a historical marker for William Branch Giles, yet another one of Sugar’s ancestors.

WILLIAM BRANCH GILES

Noted lawyer and statesman William Branch

Giles was born12 Aug. 1762 in Amelia County

and educated at Hampden-Sydney College,

Princeton, and the College of William and

Mary.  Giles served Virginia in the United

States House of Representatives (1790-1798

and 1801-1803) and in the U.S.  Senate (1804-

1815), where he was a chief Republican ally

of Thomas Jefferson during the Republican

and Federalist party debates of that era.

Giles was elected governor by the General

Assembly in 1827 and served until 1830.  He

participated in the state constitutional conven-

tion of 1829-1830.  Giles died 4 Dec. 1830

in Amelia County and is buried near the

Wigwam, his house, which stands to the north-

west on Rte. 637.

Hmmm, Route 637.  It’s not on the map.  We circled around the downtown area, which was quite small and closed up tight as a drum.  Sugar spotted a man outside what appeared to be a bed-and-breakfast, and he commanded the van to a halt.

The man said that it used to be a bed-and-breakfast, but when the economy failed, they started taking in long-term renters instead.  He didn’t know where Mattoax or the Wigwam or Route 637 were. and he produced a little map of the local area, which also did not have Route 637 on it.  There were some numbers that were close, and we wondered if the route number on the historical marker was incorrect.

He gave us general directions heading east, and after our goodbyes, we headed over to a four-lane divided highway.  We were looking for Chula, and thought that we had missed our turn, with that typical nervousness that lost people with poor directions have.  So we stopped at a sandwich shop, one of the few places that was open.

The sandwich shop has a good crowd of local folks, but we didn’t ask anyone, not even the police officers, where Mattoax or Route 637 might be.  We’d already struck out with Mr. Jimmy and the B and B guy, so it was beginning to look doubtful that local folks could help.

So we looked at the map of Richmond and the surrounding area ONE MORE TIME, and headed east again on the four-lane, Highway 360, also known as Patrick Henry Highway.

Highway 604, Chula Road, turned left off of Patrick Henry Highway, so we did, too.  A car behind us rode our bumper as we crept along looking for Mattoax Lane on the right.  This continued forever, or perhaps about 15 minutes, and as the car raced past us downhill, we saw it on the right.  Mattoax Lane.

There’s nothing left of Mattoax.  No train station, no post office, just a little lane that winds along to the Appomattox.  We followed the lane along to almost the end, a green, leafy amble past fields and trees and not much else.

The lane ended in a gateway for a restricted community.  No trespassing.  We were so close to finding where The Oaks was.  No trespassing.  We did not feel like going to jail on this day, so we turned around and headed back out Mattoax Lane.

We drove further along Chula Road where it stayed Highway 604 but became Genito Road.  We knew that it crossed the Appomattox at some point, so if we only had a boat, we could float down the Appomattox past the old location of The Oaks.

A photo of the Appomattox will have to do for now.  The bridge was quite high and cars were whizzing also.  This was a totally unsafe maneuver on my part, but I had to get the shot.

Our next plan was to find The Wigwam, even though we were feeling discouraged at not being able to get to The Oaks property.

We headed back toward Chula, and I pulled over to get a shot of the Mattoax Lane sign.

Well, this wasn’t helping us find Route 637, so Sugar proposed another turn-around to head north of Chula to find The Wigwam.  We wound around a good bit, grateful for a large tank of gas, and Sugar pointed to another lane that headed south, which was not the direction we should be going in, but we are on vacation, and in no hurry, so why not?

A turn in the road revealed a brick church, which looked exactly like the church that Sugar’s cousin found perhaps twenty-five years ago as the location of where William Starr Basinger and Margaret Roane Garnett got married.

This was exactly the church where they were married, except it wasn’t.  Sugar’s cousin found the wrong church.  But this is exactly the church where Sugar’s cousin had his photo taken on the steps.

You might ask why this looks like the back of the church is facing the road.  You are very clever, and you already know the answer.  The road was not here when the church was built.  There was another road in front of the church which was further into the valley, and apparently was impassable from time-to-time, so a new road.

The true front.

Hickory nuts were everywhere, and we saw chipmunks scampering about.

We headed on in search of The Wigwam.  Did we find it?  Stay tuned.

The Folly Castle, Petersburg, Virginia: Or, Sugar Runs With Scissors

Sugar has a theory.

Sugar thinks that when you need a pair of scissors, nothing else will do.

Basically, I’m good with that.  More importantly, I believe that when you have sewing scissors, you do not cut hair or paper with them.  Just ask any seamstress, or your mother.

I, however, do not see the need to buy several more pairs of scissors just because we walk by the $1 bin at Lowe’s.  Apparently, at Sugar’s house, scissors go the way of safety pins and paper clips at other people’s houses.  Perhaps his dogs take them outside and do some minor landscaping and haircuts.

Sugar keeps a pair of scissors in the van.  I’m not good with that.  I imagine a flying projectile in an accident.  There’s a pair in the van anyway.

*****

We found the Folly Castle  with no problem.  It was not what I expected, and I can’t find very much written about it that is not repetitive.  Sugar wanted to stay at Folly Castle, because it’s supposed to be a bed-and-breakfast, but the phone number was disconnected, and the last online review was written years ago.

We are facing towards Petersburg.

We are facing away from Petersburg, and the sign is identical on both sides.

FOLLY CASTLE

*****

THIS HOUSE WAS THE TOWN HOME

OF PETER JONES, WHO BUILT IT IN

1763.  IT WAS CALLED FOLLY

CASTLE BECAUSE IT WAS A LARGE

HOUSE BUILT FOR A CHILDLESS MAN, BUT

JONES LATER HAD OFFSPRING.

MAJOR ERASMUS GILL, REVOLU-

TIONARY SOLDIER, ALSO LIVED HERE.

Not a castle at all by today’s standards, but old terminology says that it can be referred to as a castle.

You can read more about the history of the neighborhood here.

For. Sale.

IMPORTANT!
We found this property to be vacant/abandoned. This information will be reported to the
mortgage holder. The mortgage holder has the right and duty to protect this property. The
property may be rekeyed and/or winterized within 3 days. If this property is NOT VACANT,
please contact Safeguard Properties at 877-340-8482.
Code Enforcement & Building Officials: For any issues at this property please contact
Safeguard Properties Code Enforcement Dept. at 800-852-8306, extension 2173 or
code.enforcement@safeguardproperties.com

Through the window.

Yes, through the window.

Over the fence on the left side of the house.

Over the fence on the right side of the house.

More over the fence on the right side of the house.

Across the street.

We got back in the van, and Sugar rustled around and came up with a pair of scissors.  He said, “I’ll be right back”, and he hustled back to the front of the house and disappeared behind the bushes on the left side of the front porch.

He had spotted a lone rose growing between the bushes and the house.  I never noticed it, and I wonder how a rose bush that needs at least 8 hours of sunlight could live in the shadows and produce this beautiful rose.

Have scissors, will travel.

Blandford Church, Petersburg, Virginia

Sugar’s great-somebody-or-other was Peter Jones. I’ve seen through various sources that Petersburg was named for three Peter Jones. Instead of Jonesburg, we get Petersburg. Seems like a simple enough concept.

We had a plan.  Really, Sugar had a plan.  We would go to Petersburg, spend the night, take a tour of the Petersburg area in the morning, then head over to Amelia County for the afternoon, then on to Richmond that evening where we would check into the B&B that we had found online.

*****

So we’re packed and ready to go, but first, we have to go to the Sugar’s Grooming & Boarding business to walk and feed the boarders.  It’s what we do every Sunday morning.  Business as usual.

Sugar had a momentary bit of panic when he realized that we were really making this trip, and he slammed the accelerator as we entered the business’s parking lot.  We careened through the parking lot, which isn’t paved with concrete, but with recycled asphalt which is supposed to pack down.  Some parts were more packed than others, resulting in an uneven surface.  Dear Lord help me.

My head slung around like a bobble-head doll, and I remember screaming, “Stop the car!”

He didn’t stop the car, but kept busting through the parking lot, which thankfully was empty except for the one insane vehicle that we were riding in.

My yelling “Put on the brakes!” did not cause the car to stop, either.  Sugar gained his sanity and foot-stomped the brake, and I bobble-headed towards the dashboard.

He calmly explained, “I drive like this all the time at work.  I’m in a panic all day long to deliver the mail on time.  I have to shortcut.”  I screeched something about riding with him for years, and he’s never driven like this.  It was clear that I was going to have to drive to Petersburg.

So we settled down, and took a deep breath, and took care of the boarders, then on to Petersburg.

*****

I don’t remember anything special about the drive, thank God, and we arrived at the southern end of Petersburg in good order.  We decided to go ahead and head on into Petersburg, which was quite a radical plan, seeing as how it was on the schedule for the following day.  Sugar, deviate from a plan?  The world might stop.  Me, deviate from a plan?  What plan?

We’ve circled around the church from the main entrance. It’s quite hilly here.

BATTLE OF PETERSBURG

*****

HERE WAS FOUGHT THE BATTLE OF

PETERSBURG, APRIL 26, 1781.  THE

SOUTHSIDE MILITIA, 1000 STRONG

AND COMMANDED BY BARON STEUBEN

AND GENERAL MUHLENBERG MADE

A BRAVE RESISTANCE TO 2500

BRITISH REGULARS UNDER PHILLIPS

AND ARNOLD.

This shot is from the rear of the church. Note: Western sun. We have plenty of daylight.

We didn’t find Peter Jones, but we did find General Joseph Jones.

 

In Memory

of

GENERAL JOSEPH JONES

of

Cedar Grove Petersburg

1749 – 1824

Churchman, Patriot, Soldier.

Vestryman Bristol Parish 1773.

Member of Committee of Public

Safety 1775.

Captain Virginia Line 1776 – 79.

Colonel of Militia 1793.

Lieutenant and Member of

House of Delegates

Dinwiddie Co. 1793.

Major General 1802.

Postmaster of Petersburg and

Collector of the Port 1821 0 24.

 

This stone is part of the original

Tomb at Cedar Grove.

Erected by Frances Bland Randolph

Chapter D. A. R.

 

Now we’re looking at the front right corner of the church.

Next stop:  The Peter Jones Trading Post.

Mother’s Day, 2013, at Laurel Grove Cemetery

Sugar and I went to Laurel Grove Cemetery on Mother’s Day, 2013.  Neither one of us have a mother there.  We simply wanted to check on the crape myrtles that he pruned in January.

We had checked on them on Easter, and they were growing back from the severe pruning he gave them.

Today, we find that they are indeed growing.

A little ladybug down in this clump of foliage ran further down into the clump, presumably to go check on her children.

One of Sugar’s cousins reconnected with him because of this blog. Whenever I’m at Laurel Grove with a camera in hand, I try to take a photo of her mother’s and father’s grave.

Another shot of the previous grave markers. I like the pattern of the morning sun through the fence.

This mockingbird on the roof of a nearby mausoleum calls out, “Happy Mother’s Day!”, although it sounded like “tweetle tweetle tweet”.

When we headed back to the car, another mockingbird was attacking the mirrors on the van. He flew into a nearby tree.

While we watched from the back of the van, he went from side to side, attacking the intruder in the mirror.

Sugar thinks that maybe the mockingbird was a juvenile trying to establish territory and to protect his property.

It’s good to know the cemetery plot will be protected.  Apparently birds love history and dead people, too.

And Finally: A Kitten Post

Everyone knows what happens on April 15, don’t they?

That’s right!  It’s when kitten season begins for real.  I got the first call of the season to bottle-feed 6 newborn kittens on April 15 of this year.

There’s a story behind every new litter.  Sometimes we know the story, and sometimes we just make things up.  A lot of people have only bad things to say about people who put out litters, or move away leaving their animals shut up inside the house or apartment or trailer, or want to give away puppies or kittens or dogs or cats – free to a good home.  I say that desperate people do desperate things.  I’ve been desperate before.  I stole a roll of toilet tissue once from a public bathroom.  That’s desperate.  Can anyone judge another?  Of course we can, but let’s not.  Let’s help where we can.  Enter kittens.

The shelter called me to ask if I would bottle-feed 6 newborn kittens.  You’ve already heard that part of the story, but the story behind that is this:  Someone put a this newborn litter into a small dog bed, covered them with a blankie, put them into a cardboard box turned on its side, and set them out on a popular nature trail, perhaps on the evening of April 14, a Sunday.  That night was a downpour, which actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because the rain caused the predators to stay home and not go out in search of food, like newborn kittens with the umbilical cords attached.  The next day, Monday, April 15, someone found the box, and the kittens, still huddled on the bed under the blankie, made their way to the shelter.

This photo is 6 babies, brand-new, tucked into a towel which is tucked into my green wool hat. Two calicoes, two blacks, one tuxedo, and one white with black markings.

I made a deal with the shelter.  I would feed the kittens at night if they could feed them during the day.  I’ve bottle-fed kittens before, and after 48 hours of round-the-clock feeding, I. am. goo.  So the split-parenting worked out really well for two weeks, when the shelter found a nursing mother.  Oh, my heart be still.

The mother rejected them.

And it just so happened, because it is kitten season, that there was another nursing mother who took them in.

Sadly, the two calicoes did not make it out of infancy.  One died at about one week, and the one in the photo above died later that night.  But she was with me.

Then I got a single neonate, who died in twenty-four hours, then another litter of four, who also died in twenty-four hours.  They had no nursing instinct at all.  Then a litter of five, four of whom died over the course of four weeks, and lastly a little orange babe found by a drainage pipe, who also died in twenty-four hours.

We sat with our basket of kittens outside Panera Bread in Savannah on Father’s Day after visiting the Laurel Grove Cemetery. Kittens need to learn about history and lunchtime, too.

And now the “Soul” survivor of the litter of five is living at Sugar’s grooming salon until he is big enough to be neutered and then he will be ready for a home.

So for now, it looks like it’s near the end of kitten season.  Sugar and Soul sit under the oaks at the nature trail near where the first litter was found.  If you click on the image of Sugar and Soul, you should get an enlargement.  You have to look closely for Soul, even though he’s right by Sugar’s side.

Full circle?  I hope so.

Colonial Park Cemetery, Savannah, Georgia

We’re back from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and we’re planning a trip to Richmond, Virginia, and in the midst of the lull, Sugar decides we need to go the Old Colonial Cemetery.

In this cemetery many victims of the

Great Yellow Fever Epidemic

of 1820

were buried.

Nearly 700 Savannahians died

that year, including two local

physicians who lost their lives

caring for the stricken.

Several epidemics followed.  In 1854

The Savannah Benevolent Association

was organized to aid the families

of the fever victims.

Across the cemetery we spot a bird sitting on a headstone.

This cemetery is full of historical markers.  You can click on any image to enlarge.  Enjoy!

There are ancient crape myrtles here that need to be refurbished. Sugar has a lot of work ahead of him…

These headstones were set into a brick wall.

I have no clue why it was so important to Sugar to come here.  Perhaps he told me, and I just wasn’t listening.  Or perhaps oh look!  Shiny thing!