** Weekly X-Series Photo-Sharing Thread 19 MAR – 25 MAR **

Female mallard duck on the Eno River

I was just at the races at Sebring, Florida (12 hours at Sebring) for the last four days, and took the opportunity to break in the Viltrox 75mm f/1.2.  I also had rented from lensrentals the XF 150-600mm to both try it out and have some reach.  Turns out that the rental was far too long (only ended up with a couple of shots/chances to need it), and the Viltrox was extremely good at being a motorsports action lens.

Photos shot with an X-T5 on AF-C, and subject detection set to "automobile."  All shots were single shot, no burst, and panned with the subject to keep race car in focus, while blurring the background.

I was raised by my PA Dutch grandparents. They lost their farm in the Depression and were considered “Ormadrups” (roughly translates in English to "poor people in need of help"). There was no welfare in the PA Dutch culture, so they lived at various relatives’ farms and earned their keep by helping out – there was no lack of work to do on those primitive farms. My grandmother helped in the kitchens and my grandfather (tho’ he had been mostly blinded in WWI) was a very skilled wood and metalworker. As a little kid, of course, I went with them.

At one point, we lived at an uncle’s farm. This is that farmhouse today – now a fancy winery (more on this later) maybe two miles from where I live.

My uncle was a pig farmer. He was a nasty piece of work, too. Kept a shotgun loaded with rock salt and he’d shoot at trespassers. He was a big, powerful man with hands like shovels who looked and SMELLED like his pigs. You did NOT want to cross him.

Little kids in the PA Dutch culture were considered small adults, not snowflakes like kids seem to be today, and were expected to help with the family’s work to the extent that they were physically able. Butchering hogs was a constant chore. One of my memories of that time as being assigned, along with several other little kids, to squeeze the poop out of the hog intestines because they were cleaned and used for sausage casings. There was always a big bubbling black iron pot over a fire where the scraps were tossed to be cooked down to make scrapple – one of my favorites then and now. When the PA Dutch butcher a Sau (hog) it is said there is nothing left but the “oink”. Very true.

This is another shot of the house with the butchering shed in the foreground – the very scene of this crime.

After a bit, the kids, being kids, began to have a contest to see how far they could fling the poop by twirling the intestines. Came my turn – I did a really fast twirl and let fly – a big wad of pig poop sailed through the air and landed right in the scrapple pot. ACK!!! Thankfully, no one (especially my uncle) saw that or I would not be writing this today. Needless to say, I did not eat any of that batch of scrapple.

The house had been a wealthy man’s home in the 18th century, but by this time, it was very old and was badly run down and smelly. After my uncle died, the county was talking about tearing it down when it was purchased as a winery. I was really glad to see it preserved and still being used, even thought my uncle would roll over in his grave if he could see the yuppie wine types going in and out of his house.

Well, the winery offers “Paranormal Tours” when you get to “meet” the “many spirits” that occupy the house. I had not been inside the house in probably 65 years, so I signed up for me and my partner, Nancy, and my daughter and her husband.

The “tour” started out with about an hour at the wine bar, which no doubt helped the several folks who “felt the presence of spirits” during the tour.

We went up this ancient stairwell, where I ran up and down a thousand times as a little kid. We were told the ghost of “Sarah” was at that moment standing on the landing you see here. Some people felt a sudden chill in that area.

Each room had its own ghostly inhabitants. The girl with the amazing orange hair was our guide and was taking in a spirit presence in the drawing room when I surreptitiously took this cell phone snap. I just hope it wasn’t my uncle, 'cause he was a mean old guy….  

We were not allowed into the attic because there were spirits there who did not like to be disturbed.

We were told that several of the spirits were African-American slaves who had been abused on the property (never mind that Pennsylvania abolished slavery in 1780 – before the house was built).

I'm not a "believer", but I'm always open to new experiences.  Even Nancy and my daughter, both of whom believe strongly in ghosts, did not perceive any presence.

It was fun, nonetheless; the wine was good; and it was nice to go back inside the old house where I had not been for so many years.  It's in much better shape now than it was as an old PA Dutch farmhouse.

Has anyone else done a Paranormal Event?

Greg

Great photos and story, Greg. My grandfather was a subsistence farmer, too, so I can relate.

Photos and a story. Enjoyed it!

Great story and images.  Just cannot fathom having a job of squeezing poop out of pig intestines and then frying up some of the remnants as a snack.  If you're a kid and that's the norm, ya get used to it.

Type Tray, American Swedish Institute

Fujifilm X100V

CharlieGMorr wrote:

First image is really nice

Thank you.

Fantastic story!  Now you have me hankering for some scrapple from Reading Terminal Market on a Wednesday when the Amish would man their stalls.

This is my first attempt at star trails.  Keep in mind I have no idea what I'm doing except from watching you tube videos, lol.  I am using Capture One Express and StarStaX so I was limited on how to eliminate planes and satellites. Thought it looked pretty cool; I just did this in my back yard to practice.  I did 25 sec exposures for about an hour.

Outer Cape Cod, Massachusetts USA in mid-March. It was cool and breezy, but beautiful and uncrowned.

EXIF is wrong, lens was 12 mm f/2 Rokinon, mostly shot at f/5.6.

Atlantic white cedar swamp

Beech roots in sandy, moss-covered soil

Pitch pines among interdune pond near Provincetown

Thanks for viewing.

GreatOceanSoftware wrote:

Great photos and story, Greg. My grandfather was a subsistence farmer, too, so I can relate.

Thank you.  I certainly had PA Dutch relatives who were subsistence farmers, but this wasn't that.  The fields (now an industrial park - sigh) were used to raise food for the hogs - lots of pumpkins, for example.  My uncle sold a lot of pork.

Greg

Greg in Durham NC wrote:

Photos and a story. Enjoyed it!

Thank you!

BobsYourUncle wrote:

Great story and images. Just cannot fathom having a job of squeezing poop out of pig intestines and then frying up some of the remnants as a snack. If you're a kid and that's the norm, ya get used to it.

  Nothing to "get used to". 

Maybe this is why I get in trouble when posting tasteful hunting pics here - a different mindset.  Where do people think their plastic-wrapped meat, sausage, chicken, etc. comes from - a machine in the grocery store?  For probably 98% of mankind's history, personal involvement in the production of one's food was the norm for nearly everyone.  It still is for many people, like me.  Now, urban people outnumber rural people and their norm is something very different.  To me, their norm is abnormal.  If that makes any sense...  

Greg

nuramori wrote:

Fantastic story! Now you have me hankering for some scrapple from Reading Terminal Market on a Wednesday when the Amish would man their stalls.

Yes, scrapple is good stuff for sure.  I didn't know scrapple made it all the way to downtown Phila.   Cool!

Greg

Milan Royal (I'm not sure)

Jakes wrote:

Great story. I'd be interested in whether or not you made it known to your host that you grew up there. And what their reaction was.

Thanks!

Yes, I did.  I thanked the owners for preserving the house and bought some of their wine.  When the girl leading the "tour" found out I had lived in the house for a while as a child, of course, she asked if I had "felt any energies" there.  I told her "no" and she seemed disappointed.

Unlike my partner and my daughter, I have a hard time believing in things I can't touch and see.  Also, I spend lots of time long ago in the Army in places where many people had died horribly and never saw/felt any ghostly "presence".

But, as noted above, I'm always willing to learn.

This is an older pic of the house, right after the winery people bought it and fixed it up.  Butchering shed in the foreground and the summer kitchen (where my grandmother (who was like my mother) worked is right behind that.

The fields where I probably killed hundreds of pheasants as a kid are now a vast industrial park.  I think the house only has an acre of so of ground.  Things change - not always for the better.  You can see the old stone barn (now a fancy dog boarding and training facility) in the background.

Greg

... and we'll be heading down to Ocracoke to sail. Can't wait!

Just about every night we hike out to some remote area to watch and photograph the sunset. This is a cell phone pic that Nancy took of the Old Man, camera in hand waiting out in the dunes at the very remote southern end of the island for the sunset to be just right,

This was the result that evening:

A few more sunset shots. Nancy in the vast dunes at the southern end of the island:

Western side of the island:

The beach:

Sometimes, we watch the sun go down with an adult beverage from the boat in the harbor.

The pelicans can put on a display in front of the setting sun, too

Greg