In 1911, Donald Minor’s cousin, Bedie Harrington Vannoy, had her third child out in Iowa. The little boy was eventually named Paul, and returned with siblings Ivan and Janet to visit their grandmother, Sarah Minor Harrington McClure, and their great-grandpa, Francis Marion Minor, with whom Donald lived while his father convalesced from migraines in health resorts like the Markleton Sanitorium.
The Tama, Iowa photographer, C. W. Wright, printed the photograph of this six-year-old on postcard stock, and the note accompanied other mail delivered to Ceylon Lane, Garard’s Fort, Pennsylvania.
*Photograph restored using PicMonkey: http://www.picmonkey.com/
Donald was the youngest of the youngest, born in 1902 to a family of Minors that spread through the hills of Greene County, Pennsylvania. The dark-haired toddler had a teenage sister, Helen, and cousins all busy with their high school work or farm chores or wedding plans. His father, Robert, was the youngest by ten years, and his elder siblings, John Pierson, Olfred and Sarah, all had nearly grown children by the time Donald came along. Baby of the baby of the family, Don was a cherished, doted upon child.
Welcome! and perhaps, welcome back! This family history blog was formerly known as d kays days, a play on my initials DKS. What can I say? I got tired of that name, uninspired by its rhyme, and so I am starting fresh this summer; a new name, a new theme – Shoots, Roots, and Leaves, powered by HUM, a WordPress theme. Beginning June 22, 2013, the the new domain name will be shootsrootsandleaves.com, though the old domain dkaysdays.com will continue to link to this blog, at least for a while.
I hope you will join me as I travel down
memory lane, to the towns and homes of the Sayles, Dodson, Strickland, Minor, Bradford, and Roahrig families.
I swear I left the door open for just a couple of hours, as I tended the garden and the dogs. Swoosh! at my head came a LBB, the bane of a birder’s existence while in the field. Little Brown Bird is the go-to scientific identification for all sorts of sparrows and wrens that so closely resemble each other that only intense field scrutiny can resolve the question – what did I just see. So on that afternoon, the swiftness of flight and my startled response to a bird flying back to front out of my garage left me with but one conclusion: I had an LBB trying to nest in my garage. IN my garage.
I do not want the interior of my house or even my garage becoming a site of passerine development and I immediately searched the space in front of my headlights. Yep. There it was. Tucked high above my reach on a decrepit sheet of burlap, woven bits of leaf litter, moss, twigs created a shallow cup in the shelf corner. Clue number one that Little Brown Bird was a wren.
Clue number two was heard as I tended flower beds and dogs, garage door CLOSED, the next day: teakettle-teakettle-teakettle. The chunky little brown bird darted into a nearby pine shrub, and perched with its tail held high. Clue number three.
Now I was certain that a Carolina Wren sought my garage shelf for development. I kept the garage door closed, for the next day or two,surely long enough, I thought, to encourage this picky wren to seek other marvelous real estate in my wooded property.
Yesterday, I once again kept the garage open, as I tended the garden and the dogs. Life was easy. For everyone. Including my Little Brown Bird.
Suffice it to say, I removed the nest before this development had gotten too far.
May I suggest, LBB, my hanging fern?