Well, spring has sprung here in flyover country, it would appear, although the daffodils have been blooming (and blooming) for weeks and weeks. It was warm enough to sit out on the patio this weekend and it was glorious. I am (slowly) cleaning up the Florida Room and am hopeful I will have all my plants out there etc by the end of the week. It is hard work for this creaking old body.
And, look, Don reports that the gnomes are back in his garden!
In other news, on TCM this month they are celebrating the 100th anniversary of Warner Brothers, so you can imagine there are some great movies being shown.
I love a good conversion story. Here is John Piper’s. “All I remember is believing. I’ve always believed, as far as I can remember. I’m sure that’s not true since we come into the world bent out of shape by sin, but whatever God did in my life to make me a believer, he did so early that I don’t remember it happening.”
Also I will note that today is what would have been my father’s 101st birthday. We will toast you tonight, ANC III. From the distance of thirty-one years since your death, I can say, many thanks for being my father.
*From the poem “Prologue of the Earthly Paradise” by William Morris (1834-1896); the painting is “Interior of the Artist” by Léon De Smet (Belgium 1881 – 1966)
How was your weekend? Ours was punctuated by a lot of weather disparities which we are kind of used to in the midwest. Thankfully the really bad stuff went around us this time.
On Saturday daughter #1 and I took part in a DAR “field trip” to the historic Daniel Boone home in the rolling hills of wine country overlooking the beautiful Femme Osage Valley. I had been to the house back in the 1960s when I was a child and again in the 1990s when my own children were small. It is a lovely 1810 home built of native limestone.
I was surprised to find that the nearly 300-acre site now includes not only the historic Daniel Boone home, but the adjoining Village historic site, and surrounding property which was given to the people of St. Charles County by Lindenwood University in 2016. I’m sure I knew that but I had forgotten. The home and property now is called The Historic Daniel Boone Home at Lindenwood Park. The dozen buildings in the village were moved there, originating from within 50 miles of the property, and include several other houses, a general store, a schoolhouse, a church, and a grist mill. It is extremely well done.
Unfortunately, as you can see from these photos, it was an unexpectedly cold, gloomy and very windy morning! Boy, were we cold!
After our tour, we all hustled to our cars and drove down the road to the Defiance Ridge Winery where we had reservations for lunch. We warmed up and enjoyed a convivial time. As always at mid-MO wineries there was live entertainment and a happy crowd.
I also enjoyed becoming reacquainted with the legendary frontiersman who really was quite the exceptional guy. And as you know, this is a kind of guy that really appeals to me.
Boone spent his final years in Missouri, moving here in 1799 when it was still part of Spanish Louisiana and a pretty wild place. He lived here for twenty years and died on September 26, 1820, in the home of his son Nathan Boone on Femme Osage Creek which we visited. (How he lived to the ripe old age of 85, leading such a life as he did, is amazing.)
Boone was buried next to his wife Rebecca, who had died on March 18, 1813.The graves, which were unmarked until the mid-1830s, were near Jemima (Boone) Callaway’s home about two miles from present-day Marthasville, Missouri. In 1845, the Boones’ remains were disinterred and reburied in Frankfort, Kentucky. Resentment in Missouri about the disinterment grew over the years, and a legend arose that Boone’s remains never left Missouri. According to this story, Boone’s tombstone in Missouri had been inadvertently placed over the wrong grave, but no one had corrected the error. Boone’s Missouri relatives, displeased with the Kentuckians who came to exhume Boone, kept quiet about the mistake and allowed the Kentuckians to dig up the wrong remains. No contemporary evidence indicates this actually happened, but in 1983, you may recall, a forensic anthropologist examined a crude plaster cast of Boone’s skull made before the Kentucky reburial and announced it might be the skull of an African American. Both the Frankfort Cemetery in Kentucky and the Old Bryan Farm graveyard in Missouri claim to have Boone’s remains. But as our guide said, the Boones are both in heaven, so what does it matter?
(“Daniel Boone escorting settlers through the Cumberland Gap” by George Caleb Bingham, collection of Washington University)
Yesterday, of course, was Palm Sunday.
“There was a vast multitude crying ‘Hosanna’ … But Christ at that time had but few true disciples; and all this was at an end when he stood bound, having a mock robe put on, and a crown of thorns; when he was derided, spit upon, scourged, condemned, and executed. Indeed, there was a loud outcry respecting him among the multitude then, as well as before; but of a very different kind: it was not ‘Hosanna, hosanna,’ but ‘crucify him, crucify him.’” (Jonathan Edwards)
About ten years ago I borrowed the complete set of “The O.C.” dvds from my sister-in-law Lauren. I have never returned them. At this point, they no longer have a DVD player and the show can be streamed on Hulu. I don’t think Lauren minds. We laugh about how I stole them. It’s a family joke.
Anyway, last weekend I was in Jefferson City packing (it is amazing how much stuff is in a kitchen) and since I turned off the internet last month, I had to watch DVDs. Hello, time for “The O.C.” I don’t know what it is, but I just enjoy that show so much. Don’t get me wrong, it is not good. The clothes are terrible. And the plots are ridiculous. But, it’s just enjoyable. It made me think of how my mother enjoys watching “The Rockford Files”. Having watched a few episodes of the show during my tenure back under my parents’ roof, I can say with authority, don’t get me wrong, it is not good. The clothes are terrible. And the plots are ridiculous. Something about the television of our youth must excuse what we disdain in more modern fare.
Anyway, again, let’s not forget that “The O.C.” played a major role in introducing us to the angsty music of the early-aughts.
Incidentally, my brother recently sent the fam text thread a screengrab of his iTunes playing Guster.
And if you know, you know. Between that text and angsty college music, I had a real hankering to listen to Guster on my drive back to St. Louis on Saturday afternoon. Let me tell you, belting every word (because of course they come back to you with no effort) is a real stress reliever. And Summer wasn’t wrong, most of this music is like one guitar and a whole lot of complaining. I don’t mind though.
“There is hardship in everything except eating pancakes.” (Charles H. Spurgeon)
I read this article about Welsh male voice choirs still singing and my heart was glad. I hope they can keep that Welsh torch lit for music. We have a lot of men in our PCA congregation and, praise Jesus, they all sing out throughout the service. It is indeed wonderful. (And such a change from the Episcopal churches I have belonged to.)
And Kevin DeYoung explains the fight of faith in this sad world.
Meanwhile the Christmas cactus is blooming again!
The big questions in life are not “Who am I?” The big question in life is “Whose am I?” You have got to answer that question. Whose are you? Whose are you? That’s the issue. In the twentieth century, we get all bent out of shape about self-identity and stuff. Who am I, and my worth, and my esteem, and my value, and all that — man. When you read the Bible, the huge issue is right relationship with God and to whom you belong, whose you are.
Well, I had a wonderful time visiting my precious daughter #2 and her wee family over the weekend. How could I not? I did nothing but hold/gaze at little Ida…
…and hang out with Katie…
I also spent copious amounts of time having deep conversations about important subjects with daughter #2 while the little ones napped. When DN returned from his wedding festivities on Sunday, we were able to catch up as well and celebrate his birthday.
Time well spent indeed.
Daughter #1, Mr. Smith and the OM held the fort.
Now it is back to my old routine. I caught up with my Bible reading. I did laundry and watered the plants. I hung out with the boy who dropped by on his way to work.
Our pastor sent this recording of the hymn Abide with Me, a hymn that the church has often sung in days of grief and mourning, to our congregation following the shooting at our sister PCA church in Nashville. This version, sung by Jeremy Casella, was recorded in the sanctuary of Covenant Presbyterian Church in Nashville.
For our brothers and sisters in Nashville we pray that even as they grieve, they would know the peace of God which surpasses all understanding, a peace that will guard their hearts and minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:7), amidst their tears.
Anne of course had something meaningful to say about all the ““takes” in [her] feed, from every conceivable point of view, a cacophony of grief and schadenfreude.” You might want to read it.
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide; When other helpers fail and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
I made it back to mid-MO from my quickie visit to Maryland. Easy Peasy. The OM did not burn the house down. Life is good.
For
“Whoever desires to love life and see good days, let him keep his tongue from evil and his lips from speaking deceit; let him turn away from evil and do good; let him seek peace and pursue it…”
Greetings readers and happy Friday! Well, the prosecco has been flowing since Monday because this girl got a house! Yes, after numerous offers (too many to count), one was finally accepted!
I’ll be moving to University City and living several blocks down from my father’s childhood home. Who saw this coming? Not I. But the house is cute and has lots of lovely stained glass windows.
It’s not the little house, but it has lots of charm and an upstairs!
I am very excited. My parents are too. My father will miss Mr. Smith most of all.
Speaking of Mr. Smith. He paid another trip to the groomer where they trimmed the fur around his eyes. And just look at his little face.
Mr. Smith got to ride in the car twice. We took the Mamu car service to and from the groomer.
And because it’s Friday and Matt Mitchell makes me laugh, enjoy.
Today I am getting ready to head to Maryland tomorrow to see daughter #2 and her little family. DN is going to be in a wedding this weekend in Pennsylvania so I am going “to help” in his absence not that I need an excuse or anything.
I think baby Ida is pretty excited.
Meanwhile the chorus of leaf blowers/lawn mowers has started up in our neighborhood–non-stop noise which will go on for nine months. Ye gods! Do I sound like an old battle ax or what? Well you know what they say: “How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth.”
(John Milton: Sonnet 7)
So please say a travel prayer for me–fair weather and no delays. I’ll be back next week. Daughter #1 will be here tomorrow with a post.
Today we celebrate the birthday of Louis L’Amour (1908-88) who was an extremely prolific and successful writer of “frontier stories.” Born Louis Dearborn LaMoore in Jamestown, North Dakota, he left school at 15 and never went to college. A voracious reader, however, he credited the 19th century British author G.A. Henty with teaching him most of what he knew and for giving him the foundation on which to build his subsequent lifelong education.
I was surprised that only around 15 movies were ever made based on his novels, and most of them are not worth viewing. Hondo (1953), of course, stands out as the exception. It is well worth watching, if for no other reason than to see John Wayne throw a variety of objects around, including a small boy into the river. “That’s the way I learned.”
It is also the birthday of James Brown (1920-92) whose handsome face you will remember from such films as Air Force (1943), Objective, Burma! (1945), Sands of Iwo Jima (1949), and the television series The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin (1954-59). And, oh my goodness, he appeared in Murder She Wrote in 1988!
And fun fact: Lee Aaker, who played the boy in Hondo, also played the boy in Rin Tin Tin.
Well, I think I will read one of G.A. Henty’s books for boys. He is still very much in print, although I have no doubt he is considered a racist, sexist imperialist by many.
“Among the Huguenots he learned to be gentle and courteous; to bear himself among his elders respectfully, but without fear or shyness; to consider that, while all things were of minor consequence in comparison to the right to worship God in freedom and purity, yet that a man should be fearless of death, ready to defend his rights, but with moderation and without pushing them to the injury of others; that he should be grave and decorous of speech, and yet of a gay and cheerful spirit.”
G.A. Henty, Saint Bartholomew’s Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot Wars
Anyway, this is how my mind works…such as it is still working.
Well, spring is officially here. Usually by mid-March I have been able to clean up the Florida Room and move my houseplants out there, but not so this year. It has been way too cold! They say it is going to warm up this week, but it is also going to rain. C’est la vie. I can dig it.
I just ordered some photo prints, because heavens to Betsy, I need to get baby Idabelle in a frame!
Not to mention this photogenic monster…
No matter how many times the OM tells him sternly to “sit still and watch the movie!” he continues to zoom around the room and attack everyone’s socks and slippers.
Life is never dull around here.
Meanwhile I am plugging away in the Book of Daniel, the second half of which is progressing from OT narrative to apocalyptic literature in an alarming way–definitely not covered by Veggie Tales and my lightweight Episcopalian upbringing. I have a lot to learn.
