These glasses were painted by my late mother. Each one has the picture of a horse each with its name painted under its portrait. These glasses are beautiful mementoes to honor the times our family spent at the Sommer-Hof in Ancramdale, N.Y.
There is of course a long story behind this beloved array. It started on June 7, 1935, or so, when my newly married parents cuddled up against each other, unable to get warm even with body heat and a tiny blaze in the fireplace. A knock—a life-saving loud rap— sounded at the door. My father rose to see who was there. There stood a farmhand inviting my parents to come to the main house, up the road. A heated house!! Without trepidation, my parents wrapped up in blankets, and coats and followed.
Thus began a friendship that lasted over many years between my parents and the Sommerhoffs in Ancramdale, N.Y. a place our family came to call THE FARM. I remember subzero snowy weekends when my dad trudged out on Friday at dusk to retrieve our old Buick from an underground garage rental space we were lucky enough to afford. I would be bundled up—unreasonably but thrillingly. I knew we were going to THE FARM, a nearly two-hour drive There I would cuddle up with my friend, a good giggle partner, listen to her Pop play his lookalike accordion, feel the blazing fire’s heat as it spit tiny sparks onto the hearth, and let myself drift into sleep. I dreamed of the next day’s sleigh ride, giving my pony a nose-kiss, and imagined myself as blessed and holy as the real baby Jesus in his own manger, all his own warmed in hay.
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