Tag: potted plant

The front window

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“Mrs. Herman Perry in her home at Mansfield, Iron County, Michigan,” May 1937, by Russell Lee, via Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.

Look through the net curtains at her tomato plants in tin cans. I wonder if she really waited until the average last frost date* for zone 18 — which is currently between July 1 and 10 — to put them in the ground.

Lee took the photo on assignment for the U.S. Farm Security Administration. Mrs. Perry was “the wife of an oldtime iron miner who worked in the mines before they were abandoned.”

*The average first frost date is between September 1 and 10.

Posed

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two-dolls-and-a-cactus-1893-natl-library-of-australiaTwo dolls with a potted cactus, Cuppacumbalong, Australian Capital Territory, ca. 1893, via National Library of Australia Commons on flickr.

The winter garden: classwork

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Botany class, Barnard College, Library of CongressA botany class at Barnard College, New York City, between ca. 1915 and ca. 1920, by Bain News Service, via Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. (Click  here to see a larger version on the Library’s flickr photostream.)

The Sunday porch: Brisbane

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Lands Office, Brisbane, 1914, State Library of QueenslandStaghorn ferns ornament the narrow porch of the Lands and Works Office, Brisbane, Queensland, 1904, photographer unidentified, via State Library of Queensland.

(Click on the image for a better view.)

I believe the ferns are Platycerium superbum, which are native to Australia.

The Sunday porch: postcard

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The Sunday porch:enclos*ure, from the Post card collection of Miami Univerisity“Sitting on the Porch,” a postcard from ca. 1900, location and photographer unknown, via Miami University Libraries Commons on flickr.

(Click on the photo for a better look.)

The Bowden Postcard Collection of Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, holds over 480,000 postcards from nearly everywhere in the early 20th century world.

This image is not very seasonal, I must admit.  Here in Stuttgart, we woke up this morning to a light covering of snow.

Children picking up our bones
Will never know that these were once
As quick as foxes on the hill. . .

And least will guess that with our bones
We left much more, left what still is
The look of things, left what we felt

At what we saw. . . .

— Wallace Stevens, from “A Postcard from the Volcano“