Stone Mason or Turnpiker?

Stone masonry has a long history in America. As a natural resource, stone was quickly utilized to mark boundaries, keep in livestock, and line roadways. It was also a natural extension of skill as immigrants from Ireland increased in number. The Bluegrass region of Kentucky is a well known international example of stone masonry. With a landscape infused with natural limestone, Kentucky pioneers were quick to realize a practical use for the stones serving as obstacles for their plows.

When stone masonry is referenced as a trade of the 19th century, it is often referring to the unique skill of building dry stone or mortarless rock walls/fences. This talent or skill was a direct inheritance from our Irish/Scottish/British ancestors. Dry stone masonry requires a more highly detailed and precise skill that results in a lasting and durable structure with no cement or mortar to aid in stability. For those of you with "stone mason" listed as the occupation of your ancestor in the census, there are high odds that this was the kind of stone mason they were describing. Prior to and just after the surge in railroad construction, this was the highest demand for labor associated with transportation.

   



Plantation style fence with thicker cut stones,
especially at the base.

However, stone fence construction had structural phases that you should be aware of. In the the first phase of dry stone fence construction, from the 18th to the mid-19th centuries, a true, solid, interlocking construction was used. This type of construction is referred to as a Plantation fence. The Plantation fence was used more among farmers on their own property to display boundary lines and corral livestock. The difference can be seen more after describing the next phase, but the solid nature of construction, that involved rock spanning the entire width of the wall, meant longer structural durability. Not all of the rock spanned the width, but after the tie rocks across, the shorter rocks were at least long enough to overlap the others to provide an interlocking type of construction. 

Overhead view of a Turnpike fence.
Notice the void of sinkage in the center.

The next phase of the construction was begun in the early 19th century with the birth of the turnpike roads. These company maintained roads were lined with dry stone fences to prevent bypass of the turnpike collection houses or toll houses(often also built out of stone), prevent livestock from wondering into the roads, and as visual dressing or proof of the maintenance that justified the fees to travellers. This type of construction was not as stable and involved an outer lining of solid stone, with the inner void filled by spall or filler in the form of tiny pieces of stone. Many of the remaining stone fences seen in Kentucky are along roadways and are often turnpike fences. This is also the time period that allowed a stone mason's occupation to be reported differently on the census. In fact, it could be conjectured that this alternate term, "turnpiker", was also a way to differentiate between a true stone mason, and a laborer who was on the turnpike building teams. These teams were headed by true stone masons, but in order to speed up production, many workers were needed as assistants and haulers. In fact, this is where the use of slaves came into frequency. Growing up, I always heard the stone fences referred to as "slave walls" because it was believed that the slaves built them. This is partially true. Slaves were a huge part of the production process. However, most were used in the quarrying and hauling of the stone. Some were allowed to assist closely and learned the trade for use after slavery, but by then the demand for construction had dropped considerably.



20th century stone fence built with mortar
and accented by a castle capstone motif.

 The post Civil War era of stone masonry marked another transition. Not only were the former slaves, who assisted in previous fence building, now allowed to take on the trade as stone masons, but with a dwindling generation that no longer had as many skilled stone masons, mortar was employed to stabilize construction. Larger stones were often used with this method to speed up production and experiment with artistic elements. This type of construction was highly favored during the late 19th and early to mid 20th centuries when aesthetics became even more important as the horse industry adopted a more lavish lifestyle.

As the snow begins to melt and the temperatures rise a bit, this is the best time of year to examine these agrarian works of art. It has been noted that even though the stone fences in the Bluegrass region are numerous, only 5% of the original number still stand. However, there are a few misconceptions about these fences that are also worth noting.

  

Cross section of Plantation style fence.
On previous Cox family land in Pendleton County.

Most people outside of Kentucky are only aware of the stone fences in the Central Kentucky region. While the majority of preserved fences are in the areas that include Fayette, Bourbon, Woodford Scott and Franklin counties, there many more examples spread throughout the surrounding regions. My 4th great grandfather, Samuel Cox, of Pendleton County Kentucky (1 county south of the Ohio River) was listed as a stone mason in the early half of the 19th century. Records indicate he took on an apprentice, John Dean in 1829 for four years as a "stoneman". In the 1830 census, Samuel is also listed as having two free black males in his household. This would be consistent with not only farming labor, but also hauling/quarrying help when building stone fences. Samuel was a large landowner in his own right, and I would guess that his income was not purely based on stone masonry. There is evidence that he did pass this skill on to his sons, even though they chose to focus more on farming and left the stone mason trade altogether rather quickly. The evidence I speak of is the remnants of thick stone walls surrounding various parcels of Cox property - some built after Samuel died in 1857.


Creek bed in Pendleton County.

 Another interesting thing to point out when exploring the remaining fences is the importance of where they found the stone for construction. In the northern areas, such as Pendleton County, the rock is not only heavily on the surface due to the rolling nature of the topography, but the streams are compacted sources of rock. In the central Bluegrass region, the rock was often quarried from the gentle hills that dotted the landscape. One of the most interesting features of a former turnpike is the small quarries that can be found at intervals along the road. These can easily be identified by crescent shaped places that have been dug out of small hills. In many cases, the place has been left untouched except for cattle who often gather there for a cooler space that often contains water in the basin area. 

Limestone permeating the fields of Pendleton County.



Limestone layering just under the surface in Scott County.

For further reading I strongly recommend Rock Fences of the Bluegrass by Carolyn Murray-Wooley and Karl Ratz (1992). This is the most detailed history of the stone fence industry in Kentucky from its earliest beginnings. Another fantastic feature about this title is the appendix in the back that includes 34 pages of registered stone masons in Kentucky. Their are two lists, one listing Black stone masons, and one listing White. Each name is followed by their year of birth, location of birth, residence county and date working. A copy of this book can be purchased through the Dry Stone Conservancy web site, along with other related titles. This web site is also a great place to continue your research as the organization not only seeks to preserve and repair remaining stone fences, but also promote the perpetuation of this skill among modern artisans.

A fascinating subject that sheds more light on the occupation of our ancestors!

CD 1/29/11

Black Sunday and an Engagement

In January 1987, my Grandparents (Charles and Bessie Daniels) were preparing to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary in the early part of February. As we planned venues, food, invitations and gifts for a grand party, something else was also on my Grandfather’s mind: the 50th anniversary of ‘Black Sunday’ and the 1937 Flood.

For those of you not familiar with the history of the Greater Cincinnati area, the 1937 flood was the worst flooding seen along the Ohio River in modern recorded history. Up and down the shorelines of West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana, the waters inundated entire communities and rendered one million people homeless. The rains came for several days and on top of several inches of snow, allowing the river to continue its slow but persistent rise. By ‘Black Sunday’, January 24th, the river was almost at its peak at 80 feet, which is 28 feet above flood stage. The term ‘Black Sunday’ was used for two reasons. As the river rose and caused barges to crash and sink, and as oil storage tanks broke loose, the floating oil collected in the Mill Valley area. At some point, on Sunday, the floating oil caught fire and raged for hours, destroying several large businesses in the city. Grandpa always said the other reason they called it Black Sunday was because as the river rose, each city was plunged into darkness as electric plants were flooded. The people were forced to wait in the dark, knowing the waters were rising and wondering if their home would be next.

Back in 1987, the city of Cincinnati was commemorating this 50th anniversary with numerous newspaper articles and memorials of various forms. Grandpa Charles sat down to record his own memory of Black Sunday, and his unique role in this tragic chapter of American History.
His typed account as transcribed:

“A half century ago we experienced a great happening in this valley and in my life. I felt that I should put down on paper the following events as they happened. This also has a special meaning for my wife and I as we are preparing to celebrate our fiftieth wedding anniversary on 6 February 1987.

I was a young man of twenty five years of age and was employed by the Cincinnati Union Terminal Company and a First Sergeant of Company C 147th Infantry Ohio National Guard. On Wednesday night prior to Black Sunday the National Guard had a drill and our Colonel held us at the Freeman Avenue Armory until one o’clock in the morning as he had gone to the City Hall to offer our services and vehicles free of charge to help move people out of the danger areas. The city at that time said they didn’t need our help.

On Friday night, the water started to back up onto Freeman Avenue near the ball park and around the Union Terminal. All activity stopped at the Mail Building at the Terminal and I was left there to watch the property. I was in the basement of the office and just outside of the door the lid blew off the sewer and water started to bubble up into the street. I called the Master Mechanic and suggested he get some people to start moving the material up stairs. He laughed at me and said I was just being excited. Soon the water got so deep I went upstairs on the first floor. I went to the water fountain for a drink and there was no water. I tried to use the telephone and it was dead. Then the rising water in the basement hit the generators and the lights went out. I then started down the platform toward the Coach Yard. When I reached the end of the platform I could see that the water was several feet deep. So I turned around and went toward the passenger station. I was able to get to the station and stayed there until my time to quit at 7AM. The water by this time had backed up in front of the Terminal and it was necessary for a high bed truck to take us out. I was told not to report to work that night.

On Saturday night I and the young lady I married went to a party. I had fallen head over heels in Love and at about ten o’clock had asked her to marry me. We planned to marry in two weeks from that night. About thirty minutes later an announcement came over the radio for all National Guardsmen to report to their Armory for flood duty. I took my wife to be home and reported to the Freeman Avenue Armory to help mobilize our unit.

Approximately seven o’clock the next morning we were moved to the Fifth District Police Station which at that time was on Colerain Avenue. The first thing we did after arrival was to get fed at the Red Cross Kitchen in the garage as we had not eaten since being mobilized. As soon as we were fed we were assigned various duties. Some went on the river to help people stranded and some were used to guard flooded areas to keep looters out. The kitchen personnel of our unit set up a food kitchen and had hot coffee and soup available twenty four hours a day for those working in the flood and for those whose homes were in the flood.”

Apparently, Charles took along his camera to document some of the scenes he encountered during the clean up effort. Below are some of his shots, never before seen outside of our family. I was fortunate enough to bring a scanner to their house one year to scan some of these priceless images.

Charles with his fellow officers loading up.....front left.....I would imagine that smile had nothing to do with the flood, but his head being in the clouds at the realization that he had just become engaged to the love of his life.

View from the top of the Freeman Avenue Armory - Union Terminal in the distance - where Charles' first encounters the flood waters.Another view from the roof of the Armory - looking North.

North of Saylor Park.

One of the mobile kitchens they set up.

One of the mobile work stations set up by the WPA.

Ruins of the Crosley Fire.

The remainder of the images are just outside the Armory as the boats and trucks reload supplies.

This was just the adventurous beginning for a young couple who then lived through two wars, European domestic life, raising four of their own children, and then caring for over sixty foster babies.....makes my life feel VERY boring in comparison.....but then, boring is good.

CD 1/23/11

The Season's Greetings

As we all fall prey to the hustle and bustle of the Holidays, I wanted to stop and wish all of my readers a Merry Christmas, and bright, historically prosperous New Year! It is way too easy to let the spirit of Scrooge enter our lives as we tread through the family obstacle course that rears its head during this special time of year. But stand strong! Don't allow the Christmas meanies to steal your joy. Christmas holds different meanings for each of us, but if we slow down, even for a little bit, to reflect on the beauty of the season, the reason behind the season, and the special memories attached to this glorious season, we can bring the year to a restful and peaceful close. Besides, those tests and trials will be waiting for us on December 26th.....so let them go for a couple of days and purposefully embrace the Spirit of Love behind the Holiday we know as Christmas.

As a side note about the gold greeting you see above, this is the cover of a small paper photo frame. The photo inside is long gone, but the frame remained in the family photo collection. Due to the current controversy surrounding "Happy Holidays", "Merry Christmas" and "Season's Greetings", I thought this little historic piece from the earlier part of the 20th century was quite telling. For my family, Happy Holidays and Season's Greetings were just another way of saying "Merry Christmas". There was no exclusion intended and in fact, we used it (for generations) as a way to include a Happy New Year in the mix. So, in my book, none of the previous phrases are insulting to the Spirit of the Holiday. However, I have enjoyed the resurgence of Merry Christmas. I grew up in a city where the Menorah was right next to the Nativity Scene, and in my own family we put out a Menorah during Hanukkah as something of a symbol to honor the season, even though we do not fully celebrate this Holiday. I've always believed America to be the place that welcomed all religions and beliefs.....one that celebrated them and encouraged their celebration.....not one that silenced their celebration. I never want America to be a place of such restriction that a person is forbidden from wishing someone a Merry Christmas, etc. If you want to wish me a Happy Solstice, bring it! I will assume you are wishing me a happy time, a season of celebrating something good. The world can be such a dark and dismal place. We all need reasons and seasons to celebrate. Historically, religion has provided those seasons for us as a nation. From its inception to the present, our culture has been infused with a religious base. That base allowed for freedom to celebrate, not rules to silence the various celebrations.

So, as December 24th and 25th roles around.....Merry Christmas to all!

And well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had roll’d,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all his hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honour to the holy night;
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas Eve the mass was sung:
That only night in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donn’d her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dress’d with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
To gather in the mistletoe.
Then open’d wide the Baron’s hall
To vassal, tenant, serf and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside
And Ceremony doff’d his pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The Lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of ‘post and pair’.
All hail’d, with uncontroll’d delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.

Excerpt from Marmion by Sir Walter Scott

CD 12/24/10

Advent Calendar - Grandma's Stocking

This one could almost qualify as a wordless post, because catching a glimpse of Grandma's special stocking says it all. However, I will give just a little background. This one is of Grandpa and Grandma Daniels, back before I was born, probably in the 1960s or so. When I found the photo, I loved the look captured between them on a busy Christmas morning - but as I took in their surroundings, I laughed out loud when I studied that fake fireplace behind them....yes, Grandma had put up her nylon pantyhose as her Christmas stocking that year! I'm not sure if it was meant to stretch and therefore hold more loot, or if it was a small protest, reminding the children that Mom deserved something from Santa too! The motive could be a little of both considering this is the same woman who painted hoof prints on her forehead in the 1980s when "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" was the hit song that year.

Christmas is a time of laughter - enjoy!

CD

12/18/10

Shadows of Eastern State Hospital

Earlier this year I learned about and joined the Facebook group "Eastern State Hospital Cemetery Preservation Project". I did so for two reasons: 1. Cemetery preservation is something I believe to be vital to our cultural heritage. 2. Lewis P. Mockbee. Over my years of family history research, I kept stumbling upon G-G-G-Great Uncle Lewis. He was listed in the family rosters as he should be, but I always made a mental note when I passed by his records because there was a notation included that mentioned his passing and burial at Eastern State Hospital in Lexington, KY.

In the back of my mind, I had always intended to research him further. The ESH Preservation group was a reason, but even with this new impetus, life intruded and I was not able to aid their cause as I would have liked. Recently, Uncle Lewis came back to my mind as I read the latest article in a local paper: Tomb of the Unknowns by Bruce Burris.

For those of you not familiar with this particular case, ESH is the second oldest mental hospital in the country. Started in 1822, it carried a stigma for families and local officials that continues to serve as an obstacle in properly remembering those who died and were buried on the grounds of the ESH. Here are the gut wrenching facts about burial at ESH: a.) No one knows how many bodies are buried there since the records are scattered, lost, and in some cases refused access, even for loved ones of the deceased. b.) Physical remains are so hard to locate because the bodies were moved so many times, or buried over by development, that most are in a "scattered" state. c.) Estimates on body count run into the thousands, and random skeletal remains sometimes surface or are stumbled upon within a few inches of the soil line.

According to the article, access to any of the patient/burial records - even for those 100 years or older - are stonewalled, flat denied access, require court order prior to release, or are held hostage at the capital archives. The efforts by the official preservation group include researchers seeking out other records to fill in the names of lost patients. In many cases, obituaries and death records are enough to place an ancestor at the hospital, and Mary Hatton, the lead genealogist for the group has started a spreadsheet that allows families to add their loved ones as they are discovered.

A complete list of the efforts, as well as the spreadsheet can be found at the ESH Cemetery Preservation Project's official site called: Naming the Forgotten. Wonderful assistance, history, and a small number of records can be accessed there if you suspect you had a loved one that spent some time or their last days at this facility.

Without the official records, the trail of each patient from ESH can be hugely complex or confusing. As I mentioned before, the stigma attached to the loved ones who ended up at ESH has clouded some of the past accounts. I will use Uncle Lewis as an example.

Lewis P. Mockbee was born September 2nd 1842, in Pendleton County Kentucky, the son of Charles Wesley Mockbee and Mary Malinda Moore. He served during the Civil War in the Union army: Co. A 18th KY Volunteer Infantry. During this service, he was wounded and taken prisoner at Richmond KY. By 1864, he was in a Chattanooga Hospital where he was later released. He married Rachel Fields on April 24th, 1867. To their union, ten children were born. Rachel died in 1888 at the age of 43.

Within approximately four years of his wife's death, Lewis was sent to the "asylum in Lexington." Nothing has been passed down to explain his condition or why he was sent there to live for the next 30 years before his death on February 27th, 1922. What has been published out there online has perpetuated the "fact" that Lewis died and was buried at ESH. This repetition of "fact" made me feel a little closer to the project's efforts.

However, after a simple search for Uncle Lewis's obituary, the "facts" became somewhat altered. That old-fashioned microfilm search turned up the following result:

"L.P. Mockbee, aged 80 years, died Monday at the State Hospital, Lexington, where he had been for the past thirty years.

Mr. Mockbee was a native of this county and is survived by five children: C.P. Mockbee, Mrs. Calvin, Mrs. William Davis, Mrs. L. Mattox, of this county, and Anna Ellis of Ohio.

Mr. Mockbee had many friends in this county who will be sorry to learn of his passing.

The remains were brought back to his old home Tuesday morning. Funeral services were conducted Wednesday at Short Creek, and interment took place in the Short Creek Cemetery."

Taken from the Falmouth Outlook, March 3rd, 1922
There was a small bit of irony that I noted about the placement of Uncle Lewis's obituary. It was not hidden in a back page, but prominently placed on the front page with other obituaries, right at the top under the masthead. This man's life was celebrated by his children and not hidden as other ancestors have been according to fellow researchers. They did not mention his Civil War service in his obit, but rather, mentioned the fact that he had many friends. They did not hide his illness, and chose to list it in the opening paragraph.

So many other ESH residents were not as lucky. Some families sent loved ones there and never heard from them again. Even if the family was still in contact with the loved one, financial constraints and the logistics of moving the body back to the home county, was frequently insurmountable - which meant the loved ones were interred at the ESH, with no chance for future visitation by relatives as is customary with a standard burial. They truly did join the ranks of the forgotten. I remember sighing a little bit in relief when I saw Uncle Lewis's final resting place as Short Creek Cemetery. It was comforting to know his remains were in an undisturbed, peaceful place, with a stone for identification. Immediately after that thought, I felt guilty that thousands were not as fortunate.

I urge everyone to support the efforts of this preservation group. The ESH burial issue is larger than the state it belongs to. As they work toward securing a permanent and respectful resting place, we must remember that each loved one buried there has an identity and story that needs to be discovered and restored to our collective memory. As Burris noted, these scattered remains include many veterans who deserve a resting place of honor....not these scattered acres of namelessness.

How to get involved:
Visit the main site to learn more: Naming the Forgotten
Join their Facebook Group: Eastern State Hospital Cemetery Preservation Group
If you suspect you have any relatives that spent time there or died there, now is the time to put their research at the top of your list - to give them back their identity.

CD
12/13/10

Advent Calendar - Ma's Cookies

Earlier in the year I wrote a lengthy post about Ma's (Nellie Cox Beyersdoerfer) sugar cookies. They have been an absolute favorite and permanent Christmas tradition for at least four generations. The recipe is simple but when cooked to proper perfection (done on the bottom but taken out before browning), they are light, soft and chewy, with a wonderfully light nutmeg and Cinnamon essence. The picture I have included is their traditional round form, but the various forms they can take are endless. With this round form, we have dressed them up for Christmas with red and green sugar sprinkled on top. However, it really wouldn't be Christmas if we didn't use some of our old cookie cutters to make things more festive. When shapes are used, we have added the tradition of a light confectioner's sugar icing on top - which can be tinted to any color you prefer. Uber delicious!

I have included the recipe again below. The image of that cook-stained original clipping from Ma's kitchen is one of those wonderful pieces of heritage genealogy that I adore most of all. In fact, it is so precious to the family, that whenever anyone gets married, we make a color copy on photographic paper and then frame it to give to the brides. A surefire way to implement an old tradition into a new household!

In my previous post I included a lot about Nellie and my memories of her cookies on the kitchen table, but since this cookie tradition was started in her home, I've decided to include some photos we have of the home place which was torn down just a few years ago.
This precious photo, as faded as it is, has a caption on the back: Christmas 1936. This was taken on the front porch of Nellie and John's home. All of their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren grew up visiting Ma here, and sneaking more than one cookie during their visit. Nellie is the woman center front. Travelling to the left is her mother, Oleva Ellen Mockbee Cox, and the young woman on the far left, trying to hide, is one of the daughters (my Grandmother), Freida Beyersdoerfer Watts. This is the house a few years fore they razed it.....but no one has lived in it for years, and with no indoor bathroom facilities (there's another memory I have from childhood!), I'm not very surprised. It sat on a hill in northeastern Pendleton County Kentucky. Each time we make these cookies, we picture this place, and the warm, loving woman inside working to make her family welcome and comfortable.

Be sure to give these cookies a try! You'll be glad you did!

CD

12/8/10

Christmas at Laurel Court

A few years ago, my family and I were invited to a couple of Christmas parties held at my cousin's home in Cincinnati. Each party had an added purpose beyond Christmas (cousin's elopement reception and Uncle's retirement party) but each was scheduled very close to Christmas which meant we were fortunate enough to bask in the Christmas glory of Laurel Court.

This historic mansion on Cincinnati's west side (yes, I said WEST side) was completed in 1907 for paper manufacturer Peter G. Thomson. The inspiration for construction was Marie Antoinette's small chateau Le Petit Trianon at Versailles. Which, as you can imagine, produced a place unlike any other. The Rookwood tiles in the kitchen and bathrooms, gilded music room complete with teardrop chandelier, African rosewood paneled library along with various other details throughout the house remain true to it's gilded age origin. In my old Journeys Past website, I had a page dedicated to this historic gem, but the pictures were from the spring, and I have never shared my photos of what Christmas does to an already magnificent home - I have since put together some of the Christmas photos in a slide show for you at the end of this post.

The illustrious history of this house does not end with the first owner but travels down the Cincinnati timeline through various owners, from the Catholic Church (the Pope came for a visit and slept in the upper left bedroom over the library) to Buddy LaRosa. The last time it sold was in 1999 to my cousin and her husband (Larry and Judy Moyer - nee Williams, from the Pace side of the family). Actually, that is another interesting family memory. When the house went up for auction that year, my Grandmother and aunts stood for hours waiting in line to tour the house before it sold. It was such an amazing and historic landmark - we all knew of its existence but so few had actually been inside. The next day, after the auction, my family read the newspaper and realized it was our own cousin who had bought the place, which put an end to standing in line. From now on, we are welcomed with a hug through the kitchen! Judy's warm hospitality never changed after she bought such a grand house.
Judy and Larry have graciously given the home back to the community by opening it up for community gatherings, tours and weddings. Some events are even free to the public to embellish local traditions. They care for this house as their home, and welcome people with open arms. As a small family plug, Judy and Larry are offering Christmas tours this time of year....but as you can see, the experience is quite amazing.

The parties I remember fondly from just a few years ago created special moments that resonated historically. You knew the memories would last quite vividly and would be shared with future generations. The soft glowing atmosphere and twinkle of lights gave the feeling of being in a timeless place - truly encountering history as an enveloping sensory experience. The interesting thing about these parties is that even though family politics and disagreements were still rampant, the beauty and history of this house hypnotized each attendee into something akin to awed wonder. Which meant, every family member was kind to each other, and everyone walked around with loving, smiling faces.....a true Christmas miracle!

As the history surrounded us, I couldn't help but imagine the other parties, and Christmases past that had graced these rooms over the decades. Laurel Court is a national gem that was placed on the National Register of Historic homes in 1979. If you are ever in the area, and Judy has one of the tour options open, don't miss the opportunity to marvel at this architectural and historical masterpiece.

For more official information about the history of the house as well as tour/event planning information, visit their website: http://www.laurelcourt.com/

Now, for a small glimpse of Christmas at Laurel Court:

Merry Christmas!

CD 12/7/10