Every historic building has a story to tell
Long before its association with clothing, chocolates, or the civil disobedience of actor Woody Harrelson, hemp (without the prefix “industrial”) was a mainstay of Kentucky agriculture. One of my ancestors grew hemp on his Montgomery County farm decades before the Civil War, and in 1869 Kentucky produced 7,777 tons of hemp fiber – over half of the country’s (read more)
From my earliest days as a denizen of backseat land, watching the world unfold from the car window, I’ve been a careful observer of place names.* Road signs, heralding a waterway or community, were carefully transcribed by me in my ever-present sketch pad or notebook, to serve as the root of many a daydream when it (read more)
Historic communities are, by their very existence, full of contrast – even if that diversity goes unseen by the modern viewer. I imagine there are many people who see West Louisville as a single neighborhood, unified only by economic disparity, fear of violence, and boarded-up buildings with openings left expressionless by sheets of plywood. This is (read more)
The chain link fences have gone up, making visible the divide between what was and what shall be – from tired reminders of former neighborhoods to blank earth, littered by concrete and gravel. And with the demolition of these houses, one of the last vestiges of the Virginia Avenue neighborhood between South Limestone and South (read more)
I have a confession to make. Yesterday, I went to Lowe’s to see if they were stocking flats of pansies yet. I returned home with only furnace filters and light bulbs, shaking my head over my own foolishness – led astray by the erratic weather patterns in the Bluegrass. I know it’s too early – (read more)
I’ve always viewed intellectual curiosity in a positive light. My curiosity has propelled my career, and helped forge paths to interesting places populated by interesting people. But sometimes, one must temper curiosity in light of rotting wood – and accept that sunlight shining through a roof isn’t necessarily an invitation for forward movement. I learned (read more)
Last spring I spent a lovely sunny afternoon exploring the town of Augusta – and the breadth and quality of the historic architecture just took my breath away. A large Federal-style house set within a lawn gleaming blue with violets caught my fancy, and I lingered there several minutes, drinking in the beautiful sight. The 2.5 (read more)
The recent spate of rain drenching the Bluegrass has not only made my backyard soggy, but reminded me how frustrating rain can be when you are out in a downpour, trying to photograph historic resources. (Not that I will ever complain about the rain – as a farmer’s daughter, I know better.) Spring rains a (read more)
The ache that engulfs me when a historic building is needlessly demolished pales in comparison to the visceral pain of seeing farmland chopped, desecrated, and turned into to miles of pavement. Lexington provides the perfect backdrop to examine this transition, but occasionally a vestige of those long-ago pastures and fields can be found along a busy road (read more)
The R.H. Wilson House in Greensburg, Kentucky, is a perfect example of one of the historic house forms I adore: a compact, brick, 1.5 story central passage dwelling – usually built during the Federal period. The Federal style is generally considered to be from around 1790 to 1825 in Kentucky, though certain elements of the (read more)
Interested in a specific topic? Check out some popular categories below, or enter your search terms in the box.