Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America.

This morning was very pretty.  The sky was a soft blue and  sometimes there were puffy, white clouds that left moving shadows on the lawn.  I can see them from the upstairs window. I had to do my lessons and then Mother said I could go outside to help weed the garden. My lesson was all about wagons.  They were wagons with four wheels and they were pulled by horses or oxen.  Josh and Brent usually sit with me when I ride in the wagon with Mother and Father. They don’t take up any seat space because no one can see them.  I am the only one.

Toward evening, Brent and Josh came running up the stairs to find me.  Brent was so excited, he tripped on the last step.  Our stairway has a curve near the the top.  Josh was excited also.  Someone had placed some items on the downstairs hallway floor; right outside the dinning room doorway.  Brent said there was a beautiful dolly, a ball and something called a “car.”  He said it was a blue “car.”  I hurried down the stairs to look.  There they were.  It was strange because no one in my family even noticed these things on the floor.  They did not step over them or around them, yet they did not seem to trip over them.  Josh thought that they could not see any of them.  I think he was correct.

The dolly was truly beautiful.  She was laying down.  Even though the ball seemed very different to me, I am certain it would roll quite nicely down the hallway.  This “car” appeared to have the same round wheels that were on the wagons I had just studied in my book;  but they were much smaller.  It really did not look like any wagon I have ever seen.  And it was BLUE.  I did not touch the dolly because she was sleeping.  I already have a ball so I did not touch it. But I did try and move the “car.”  I pushed it just a little and it rolled……………

See the video of Mary moving the car.  Click here

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

I was helping by dusting this morning in Mother’s room.  There was a beautiful brooch on top of the chest of drawers. I could see it when I stood on my tiptoes.  Mother  wears it fastened at her neck, but sometimes she pins the edges of her shawl together with it.  It is her cameo.  It has a carved likeness of a beautiful queen on it.  I think she must be a queen because she has her head held very high.  I wondered if I could fasten the hook of the pin to my dress…………under my pinafore.  No one could see it but I would know it was there.  I pressed the pointed part down and away from the curved hook that held it in place.  I couldn’t hear anyone else upstairs.  I bent my head and tucked my chin way down…………it almost touched the top of my pinafore and I could see to fasten the brooch underneath, on my dress.

Josh and Brent were in the upper hall way waiting for me to go outside with them. I had been so busy working on the hook of the cameo that I had not even heard them.  No one is able to hear them except me and this time even I did not hear them.  When I showed them the brooch, they were very kind and told me how lovely it was.  Josh wanted to know where it  came from.  Brent just looked worried.  I explained that  wearing it would perhaps help me complete my work in a more grown-up manner.  Josh asked me if I had permission to wear Mother’s pin.  Well, I explained she did not really deny me permission because she was not present when I pinned in on my dress…………underneath my pinafore.  This information made Brent very nervous.

I ran to be outside with them.  It is was such a beautiful day.  The older boys had left with Father to help a neighbor.  Mother and the bigger girls were fancy sewing.  We crossed the barnyard and went  into the fields to search for wild strawberries.  I found some white berry blossoms but no berries.  We went to the top of the field and guessed the shapes of the clouds .  We like that game  Today my favorite shape was of a tall ship with many sails.  Josh said he saw a whale and Brent spied a sea monster.  When it grew warm, we came off the hill and I began my lessons.  I wanted to look at Mother’s brooch inside my pinafore.  I pulled aside my pinafore…….the brooch was not in place.  I stood up and shook my clothing to see if it had fallen into the folds. I listened, with ears eager to hear a tiny clatter, but there was silence.  All by myself, I began to cry.  Immediately, there appeared first Brent and then Josh.  Somehow they knew, without my telling them, what had happened. We are such dear friends.  It was still light and they said we would climb to the top of the field once again and search. We followed the grass that was bent over so we would repeat our steps.  We found nothing.  I ALWAYS find lost things; but not this time. I really began to cry. W approached the barn slowly and sadly.  As we rounded the corner of the barn, Josh yelled “I see it”.   There it was!  The sun was returning its light from the clasp.  I was so happy.  Brent picked it up and said, “Mary, place this in your pocket and return it to the dresser…….NOW”.    I did.  Someday, I shall tell Mother what had happened.  I am sad I was not the best girl I could be……………..

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

Mother dug a piece of some peony root from Nell’s Mother’s garden last year. Nell’s mother told her the root must have at least three “eyes”.  These eyes had to be placed in the soil pointing up.  I do not understand why, because they were all covered with
dirt anyway.  I did not even think any part of this root looked like an eye.  Mother took good care of the buried root before last winter set in.  She covered each plant with straw.

Mother remembers her grandmere warning her, you should only dig the roots during the night.  If one were to disturb a peony during daylight hours, wood peckers would appear and proceed to peck your eyes out.*  She was laughing at the story and told me it was not really true.  That is especially good because we were at Nell’s house during the DAY time.  Thomas Jefferson wrote about peonies in 1771.  He was a very good gardner. A peony bush can live longer than human beings but they do not like to move from place to place.  Mother said it is fine to take a piece of the root; they don’t mind that.

When I go to the garden to pick peonies, there are many ants circling around the buds. Josh and Brent help me to shake them off.  Josh uses his thumb and middle finger and SNAPS them off into the air.  They land far away.   The buds have a sweet sticky liquid on them.  Brent said it was sweet because he touched his tongue to it.  Ants are attracted tosweet things.  In the hot days of summer, big Sister places one half a cup of fresh, macerated peony petals in one cup of cold water and allows it to steep for thirty minutes. Then she heats it for ten minutes.  She strains off the petals and cools the water.  She uses
it to refresh her face. It smells very nice but her face appears the same to me………

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

I was walking with the bigger girls today.  We found a large patch of white daisies with yellow centers.  The girls ran toward it and just sank down in the middle of them.   I don’t know what they were giggling about.  Each girl picked a daisy and took turns saying:*

He loves me,
He don’t,
He’ll have me,
He won’t,
He would if he could,
But he can’t,
So he don’t.

Each time they chanted a verse, they plucked a petal off the daisy.  Some girls picked three and four…maybe five flowers until the daisy petals ended at the answer they wished.  Josh and Brent sat to the side with me.  Josh said he had heard girls say: “he loves, me, he loves me not” while plucking off the petals one at a time.  It all seems very silly to me.  How can a daisy know that sort of thing?

I would rather make a daisy chain necklace.  I make one for Mother and one for me.  My friend Nell and I sometimes make a daisy chain that is sooooo long, we use it to enclose our pretend house and all the rooms on the grass. First you have to pick many daisies, making certain each one has a very long stem.  If you wish to make a chain with the daisies close together, you must split the stem near the blossom end.  The slit will only be 1/2 inch long.  I use my thumb nail to do this.  Then thread the stem of another daisy through this slit.  Next split the stem of this daisy and thread the stem of the next daisy through.  You may keep going for as long as you want the chain to be.  If you want a longer chain, you make the slit in the stem nearer the bottom of the stem. At the end of the chain, you join them together. I think that this is much nicer than tearing the petals off all the daisies!

*    Rhyming Witchcraft:  The History and Use of Rhymes by Elizabeth Yetter

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

Today was just right for being outside, the sun was very warm……but not too hot. We spent long hours at church and it seemed to take unusually long returning home.  I was eager to change my clothes and be outside with my rag dolly; under the trees and finding wee things to place in our play house.   Josh and Brent will visit us.  I never have to be concerned if anyone can overhear our conversations because I am the only one who can see OR hear them.

My older sister was sniffling a bit in the coach and I thought she was taking ill.  Her eyes were very red and teary.  It seems as though she is spending a lot of her time sniffling.

Mother told me I must not speak of a certain young man who used to greet Sister at church and sometimes walk with her around the church yard as we were preparing to leave. Mother said he and his family have moved from the area.  I believe it was nearer to Albany.  Brent told me he had noticed that Sister was rather silly when the young man was about.  Josh made a snorting sound. I had not been aware of Sister and her young man at all.  Perhaps I am too young.  I merely giggled at Josh’s foolishness.  There are times I think Brent is foolish also.  He tells me to inquire about my lessons on a laptop.  I do not know what that is.  Then he laughs at me!

I wished to pick some flowers to give to Sister.  They may help her to feel better.  She loves flowers and is a very good gardner. Mother has been teaching her the names of the flowers and how to pick them, how to remove the flowers that have bloomed and how to dry and save their seeds for next year.  Our house and gardens are not very old and we must save the seeds to increase our plantings.  I found a beautiful flower and I knew Sister would be so pleased and surprised.  It has brightly colored red flowers.
They almost droop to the ground.  It would be so beautiful in a vase on the chest of drawers in her room. While she was brushing her hair……….many strokes EACH night…….I slipped into the room and placed the flowers.  As I was tiptoeing out of the room, Sister began to wail, very loudly,  “Oh, Mother, look what Mary has done.”  Josh whispered to me that the name of the flower I had chosen was “love-lies-bleeding”.
Oh dear………………….

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

It is Pentecost today.  I know church will be long with much talk about the holy spirit.  I try to understand, I really do. Father said the Dutch in our neighborhood call it Pinksteren.  In our church today there will be three babies baptised.  I think it will be a “wiggle” Sunday.  It is so beautiful today with lots of sunshine.  Josh and Brent and I will want to be outside.  I hope they will sit in church with me and not make me giggle.  No one see them; they say that about the holy spirit also.  But I can see Josh and Brent.  When I laugh at the faces Brent makes, Mother frowns at me…..for a really long time. We always have gingerbread on Pentecost.

Father gave our slaves permission to go to Albany to celebrate Pinkster. I think that would be great fun.  I know he will worry until everyone is back on the farm safely.  Pinkster gives Africans a chance to meet with friends and family.  They don’t often see family members because they may work on different farms in different towns. They dance, sing, tell stories and do not have to be at work for three of four days.  There are stalls where items are sold to anyone who attends.  I wish I could go there and listen to the drumming.  I have heard Indian drums but this is different.

A man is appointed King Charles. He reigns over all of Pinkster.  He makes speeches and leads the celebration.  He must be a man who is highly respected.  There is  much for him to do.  I heard the younger women who help Mother tell her about some of the dances…….the jig, breakdown or double shuffle.  Josh said it seemed similar to break dancing, but when he tried to show me, he fell down.  He looked very silly.  I shared my gingerbread with Josh and Brent . Then I had to ask for another piece.

(Learn more about “Pinkster” – a fascinating but little-known uniquely NY African-American holiday here.)

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

I could see them from my window this spring morning.  I have been searching each morning and today is the first fine day I saw them! VIOLETS!! The sun must have been  in just the proper place in the sky . The purple flowers were sprinkled across the grass.  The dark green of their heart shaped leaves was louder than the pale green blades of grass surrounding them.  Josh said his mother has some violets that are spotted with white and purple.  Brent and I had not seen those. When I am outside, I shall have to look for those.

We are going to visit Grandmere tomorrow.  It is her birthday.  She loves violets and I am going to be able to pick her many bunches to take to her. I will pick as many as my hand can hold.  Mother said she will help me tie a piece of long grass around them.  Then I am going to select the largest leaves and carefully surround the violets with an outside wreath of the heart shaped leaves.  Mother and I will  fasten both the inside bunch of violets and the outer circle of leaves with a piece of ribbon.  I will make the very best bow I can.  I would like to make a bouquet for Grandmere’s parlour and one for her bedroom.  The bouquet that will be the best is the one I will make for Grandmere to pin on her dress.

Mother is taking her a cake.  We are going to decorate the cake with candied violets.  Mother is going to show me how.  Grandmere says she loves the scent of violets even though it does not last for long.  She says the violet means humility and perhaps it does not wish  to show off its scent for too long a time. Grandmere has violet scented powder and she sprinkles some on her handkerchiefs to hold under her nose when we walk through the barnyard.  Father teases her that perhaps he should sprinkle the barn with her powder!

To Candy Violets Whole   -  The Lady’ Assistant for Regulating and Supplying her Table – Charlotte Mason   1777

Take some double violets, and pick off the green stalks; boil some sugar til it blows very strong, put in the violets and let them boil till the sugar blows again, then rub the sugar against the sides of the pan with a spoon till it is white, stir all together till the sugar leaves them, and then sift and dry them.

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

Before I opened my eyes this morning, I could tell it was going to be an exciting day.  Josh was jostling the end of my bed.  Brent is at my window, looking outand his feet are not standing still at all.  “Mary, Mary, wake UP.”  Josh was not even whispering.  I am not afraid my sisters will hear because I am the only one who ever sees or hears Josh and Brent.  Sometimes I wish no one could hear or see ME.  Josh wants me to go to the barn first to gather the eggs.  I must not go  yet.  It is not my turn to fill the egg basket.  My younger brother would be very sad if I got the eggs first.  We wait.

Brent is eager to see the colors we will choose for the boiled hard eggs.  Yellow means spirituality and sunlight.  Red means love and victory.  The color purple represents royalty and wealth.  Green means nature and growth.  Some egg shells have very small ridges or stripes.  No egg is the same.  When we dye the eggs, the differences are very visible.

Some of the eggs, Mother will boil hard for stuffing.  After they have cooled, I will help peel off the shell.  Mother cuts them in half so the white is not damaged and then carefully lifts out the yolks.  The yolk is yellow.  She restuffs the eggs with a mixture of butter, fried parsley, minced onions, salt, pepper, mustard, and the pounded yolk.  Father says they are indeed deviled eggs because they are seasoned with the spicy mustard and are as “hot” as the place where the devil resides.

I became confused and did not keep the boiled hard eggs separate from the few raw eggs Mother set aside for baking.  I was not paying proper attention and my hands did not keep record  of what they were doing.  Josh says that happens to him frequently.  Brent told me not to be concerned because he was certain he could tell which eggs are the raw ones.  I was most thankful.  He spun an egg with his fingers and thumbs  then he suddenly stopped the spinning egg with the tip of his finger.  He removed his finger from the egg.  The egg remained still.  “There”, said Brent, “THIS is a hard boiled egg.  If the egg had kept turning slowly, it would still be raw.”    Mother then asked me to please hand her a boiled hard egg.   I do hope Brent is correct.

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

The early sky was gray this morning.  I did not jump from my bed quickly.  I spent some timetalking to Josh and Brent and my rag dolly.  I was telling them about April Fools Day.  I think it was yesterday or some time not too long ago.  Father whispered to me that he was going to send the boys to the barn to find a smoke sifter.  I giggled.  Smoke goes up so high, it could NEVER be sifted!!  He called it a fool’s errand.  When the older girls came home from school, they told us that the teacher said “Look! A flock of geese,” and the girls all looked high in the sky. There really weren’t any geese at all.*  I imagine they looked very foolish with their heads all tipped up. I warrant all the boys laughed. The girls come home peevish because they do not like to be tricked.

Mother is excited because yesterday she saw the D.Landreth Seed Co. poster with a list of seeds to be purchased. She saved many seeds from last year’s plants and she exchanges some with her friends. They fold them in paper packets to keep them dry all winter. She asked Father if he could obtain some zinnia seeds.*  No one else has them and she likes to be first.  He has a store at the corners and he said he would try.  I know she has some phlox and lilacs.  I heard her speak about a snowball bush.  I am not certain if that grows in the summer or the winter.  For aught I know, it is a pretend bush!  Maybe Josh knows about it.  I will ask him.  He and Brent never laugh at my
questions.

This year, I am to have my own garden.  I also will have my own tools that are my size.  I have a trowel, a weeding hoe, a spade, a grubbing hoe and a shovel. Father had to replace the handle on the trowel.  The old handle on the trowel was very rough and I got a splinter in my hand.  It was between my thumb and the next finger.  I was checking the trowel to make sure the handle was my size.  The new handle is very smooth and it won’t catch my skin any more.  I would like to plant some Johnny Jump Ups, Sweet William, Spearmint, Cucumbers and Sweet Basil.  I like Lavender also.  Mother said she would help me to decide.  She has a very big garden with lots of vegetables.  The boys help with that.  But this garden is just for me.  I hope a toad will decide to live there.

Mary Beekman is a four-year-old ghost who resides in The Beekman Mansion, and considers Brent and Josh her “imaginary friends.” Follow Mary Beekman’s Diary each week to learn what it’s like to be a young child in early 19th century America

I placed my dolly near the hearth last night and now, this morning, she has a light covering of ashes.  If I brush her off, her dress will be marked.  I took her to the backdoor to shake her off outside.  Even though there is snow on the ground, I could smell something different.  It was not the usual smell of winter and pine trees…………..I smelled the hope of spring.  The ice cycles were dripping.  One drop hit me in the forehead.  It was cold.  Brent and Josh told me that the ice and snow in the barn yard have been melting and there are spots of mud on the road in front of our house.  Brent said he thought it was the first of the Spring thaw.  It has been very, very cold for two weeks.  Some of Mother’s china cups cracked from the frost when she poured hot tea.  Our rooms have been so cold.  But today it is different.

Mother gave Father a thermometer for Christmas.  He keeps it in a wooden case.  Even the older boys are not allowed to take it. I don’t really understand how it works, but Father said it measures temperature.  It will tell him how warm or how cold a place is.  Mother was pleased to be able to get this gift for him.  She said he is fond of all things dealing with science.  We have many books about the science of the earth in our bookcase.

Father is a farmer and needs to know about the weather, he also goes to his work in Albany and knows about something called “politics” and he is a storekeeper.  I think he may like that the best because he tends  to know what people would like to buy.  He enjoys people.  Our house is always a meeting place for his friends.  I heard him tell mother that people make “politics”.

Father was worried about the warmer temperature outside.  He carried his new thermometer to the attic where some of our meat is stored.  He said he would need to make changes in the location of this meat if the temperature rose above 32 degrees.  When he is deeply concerned, his eyebrows almost meet in the center.  They look like two fuzzy caterpillars greeting each other.  Brent tried to walk like Father when he is thinking, he bends forward at the waist and clasps his hands behind him.  Josh tried to make his eyebrows meet in the middle of his nose.  It did not work.