Waiting out the Storm

It was one of those summer nights. You could see the storm clouds, but you still held out hope the thunderstorms would wait until your after outdoor picnic. We had been invited to Howell Living History Farm in Hopewell, NJ for a simple picnic and handmade ice cream covered in farm-fresh strawberries and real whipped cream. The event was simple. It was to be held on top of a hill in the Sourland Mountains.   

We made the 25-minute drive with the
top down, all the while keeping one eye on the storm cloud. Don insisted the storm would wait until after our picnic. I wasn't convinced so I put the top up before we took the footpath leaving the conveniences of the 21st century behind and time travelled to the turn of the (last) century.

We were surprised to not recognize anyone, so we made new friends with a couple in their 70s at their picnic table. They were joined by their friends, the Gunkelmans, old friend through ties they made as former Peace Corps volunteers. We provided fresh ears for their half-century old stories. As someone who is fascinated about learning about different cultures and times in history, I lapped up their memories.

Soon, though, we felt one fat drop. Then another. Then several more. We had to make a decision. Should we wait it out under the tent next to the large metal poles, move into the barn that has clearly weathered storms, or make a dash back to the 21st century Visitor's Center? Just then a door opened in the early 20th century farm house with a docent clad in shorts and a modern tee-shirt warmly inviting us inside.

Don dashed to the barn to hang out with his former teacher and long-time Howell volunteer Larry Kidder (author of many books). I opted for the farmhouse and the company of Larry's wife, Jane. 

We walked through the cramped kitchen and another tiny room, through the even smaller hallway, and were invited to wait in the parlor as if we were invited guests. The head of Howell invited us to sit on the good furniture. You don't have to ask me twice!

We were given the option of sitting on any of the antique chairs "except that one," the folding rocking chair that after a couple of people started to sit on they swiftly folded and put against a wall. Respected volunteers sat with telling us about the history of the farm house, including its various additions and the furniture, pictures, and other decorations. I believe Jane said there was one piece of furniture that was original to the family, but the rest are pieces from the time period they are depicting (I want to say pre-1950, with a focus on the 1920s, but please don't quote me on that).

Conversations with the Gunkelmans and their friends continued, ending with Nancie handing me a postcard about her upcoming art exhibit as part of the emerging artist's series at Brookdale Community College, ironic since she has been creating art for over 50 years. Appropriate, though, because this was her first museum exhibit. We gleefully traveled on Father's Day to her opening and enjoyed seeing her mixed media paintings inspired by the years she and her husband lived in Africa.

A win for the evening -- we stayed dry, met fascinating people, learned some history, and added an event to our social calendar. 

Nancie, on the right, surrounded by friends and family

Absorbed in the details