Friday afternoon, I picked up a disc of scanned 35mm slides. Of course, these were not glass slides like the ones used in my art history courses, but nonetheless rather ancient technology. No one wants slides anymore, and most people want images sent via Dropbox or over the cloud.
Next stop, typewriter ribbon. At Gramercy Typewriter, they do their own form of recycling, by re-spooling old metal spools with new ribbons. Of course, typewriters have gone by the wayside, for the most part, although the shelves of beautifully cleaned and repaired typewriters are just waiting for purchase. Paul told me that last year during the holiday season, they were sold out of refurbished typewriters. I have my eye on a pink Regal.
Communication via imagery or electronic text is key now. And lickety-split fast responses are expected.
When Abigail Andrews lived on this farm, she had none of these mod-cons, and must have cherished the trips into town to find out news. She would have relied on signs, natural signs, for when to do specific chores on the farm. We look for the ‘frost free date’ relying on the internet, but she must have been keenly attuned to the seasons, and perhaps kept a diary like Martha Ballard. By now, Abigail might have twinned her pea shoots up a trellis, and put her onions, potatoes and leeks in the ground. Our peas are up and soon onto the trellis, and I must get those root crops in the ground this week.