I do not remember my first introduction to Stillmeadow, but I know The Stillmeadow Daybook was one of my earliest adult literary possessions, and it has survived nearly a quarter of a century of regular book purges. Recently I picked up Stillmeadow Road at a library booksale and I’ve been reading it with pleasure.Īs best I can piece the story together, Gladys Tabor graduated from college in 1921 and taught college courses, and her daughter was born in 1923. She and her college professor husband lived in New York City. Her childhood friend and college room-mate, Eleanor (called Jill in the books), was married with two children and also lived in New York City. Both of them loved and owned Cocker Spaniels. Rural Harvest at Stillmeadow Author: Gladys Taber Format: Hardcover ISBN-10: 0848811917 ISBN-13: 9780848811914 List Price: 29.95 Add to Wish List Link to this Book Add to Bookbag Sell this Book Buy it at Amazon Compare Prices Details Reviews Author: Gladys Taber Language: English Publisher: J M Carroll & Co Weight: 0.9 pounds Length: 8. Their apartments were tiny, the streets noisy and busy, and Gladys’ apartment was on the fourth floor with an elevator only occasionally functional. They tried going to parks and for walks together so the children and dogs could get some fresh air, but there wasn’t much of it to be had. “What we need,” said Jill one day as we breasted the traffic back to the brawling, roaring, fume-ridden city, “What we need is a place in the country. “We could put up tents and spend lovely summer week ends.” Fresh air,” she added, coughing as a truck ground past. “And think of all the money we would save.” “And the children could play in the brook,” I said. This was a remarkable statement to which we both referred often in subsequent times. They couldn’t find what they wanted at a price they could afford. They thought about looking for an abandoned farm, or even just a barn that ‘Jill’ would do up on weekends (her husband was a doctor). I consulted all the magazines and found out that for ten thousand dollars we could do over a barn and make a charming home of it. All we would have to do would be add plumbing, floors, windows, a new roof, fireplace, etc, etc, etc. Afterwards you furnished such a home with priceless antiques from your aunt’s attic. We had neither aunts with attics nor any attics at all.Īt this point, when sensible women would have given the whole thing up, we started hunting for an old house.
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