Sewanee Tornado

Well, the winter wind definitely blew at Sewanee last week! I was fortunate enough to have missed the tornado that set down near the airport and that twisted and fell trees, ripped off roof shingles and made a mess of things in the Midway Community. I knew my drive home was a strange one that day as I watched lightening strike from black clouds and arrived home to a yard full of half-dollar sized hail!

The photo above was taken by Ben Beavers as he stood on the front porch of Shenanigans Restaurant in Sewanee looking across Highway 41A toward the Sewanee Market and, thus, the airport.

Brrrrrrrr,

Thou Winter Wind

Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art no seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto thy green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Painting by Thomas Kinkade

Stay warm!

Here Comes the Rain

Just when I believe we may see a break in the rain and snow, here it comes again! While I admit to love the snow...and even the rain when it comes in moderation, day after day without my winter sunshine can sometimes make me rather melancholy. Is it any wonder that the simple nursery rhyme keeps running through my mind today?

Rain, Rain, go away;

Come again another day.

And upon thinking of this rhyme, I began to wonder how many other cute rhymes and poems exist about the rain and how....well...downright TIRED of it we are?! How are these?

Rain, rain, pour down,

But not a drop on our town.

Rain on the green grass,

and rain on the tree,

and rain on the housetop,

but not on me!

Rain, rain go away,

Come again on washing day.

Rain, rain go to Germany,

And remain there permanently.

Rain rain go away,

Come on (insert old sweetheart's name here) wedding day.

Rain on Monday,

Sunshine next Sunday.

Rain is falling down,

Splash!

Rain is falling down,

Splash!

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter,

Rain is falling down,

Splash!

If all the raindrops

were lemondrops and gumdrops,

Oh, what a rain that would be!

Just as a note of interest, the history of the lyrics to "Rain, rain go away" are said to date back to the reign of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603), one of the English Tudor monarchs. During this period of English history, there was a constant rivalry between Spain and England culminating in the launch of the Spanish Armada in 1588. The Spanish Armada was led by Duke of Medina Sedonia, and the fleet numbered over 130 ships. The English fleet, under the Admiral Lord Howard, totalled 34 small Navy vessels and 163 armed merchant ships. But the great Spanish Armada was defeated. Only 65 Spanish galleons and just 10,000 men returned to Spain. The attempt failed, not only because of the swift nature of the smaller English ships, but also by the stormy weather which scattered the Armada fleet. Hence, the origin of the nursery rhyme:

Rain, rain go away,

Come again another day.

Little Johnny wants to play.

Rain, rain go to Spain,

Never show your face again!

May your rainy days be tolerable! ;-)

Reading Jane

I have just finished rereading every Jane Austen novel. This was a goal I had set for myself during the summer of 2009, and I just finished with the last of the group, Northanger Abbey. I always save Northanger for last. It is not that I do not love it as I do the others, for I do love it, but I find that the characters of her other novels better suit my personality. The Heroine of Northanger is just a little more passive (I will refuse to say "wimpy") than I could ever imagine, so it is much more difficult for me to identify with her. I once took a test online that told me which of the Austen characters I was most like. The result: Elizabeth Bennett. I have to agree wholeheartedly. I have always admired her spunk and straightforwardness!



Above: Portrait of Jane Austen

At any rate, I adore all of Austen's novels and could read and reread them over and over again. Most recently, I joined the Jane Austen Society of North America (or JASNA), as I am hoping to learn even more about Jane Austen and her works. So far, I have been rather disappointed, but I will reserve my opinion until the end of my first, fledgling year with the group. I just cannot get enough of Jane, and I am excited about this new path upon which I hope to gain even more knowledge and insight!

I am hoping within the next couple of years for an anniversary trip to England. My Dear Husband is not as keen on Jane as I am, you see. In fact, when I rent one of the many movies, perhaps a version I have never seen, and beg him to give it a chance to "speak to his heart," he simply smiles and says he will leave it to speak to my own heart, which I may share with him afterward. He prefers ESPN, Fox News or a good spy mystery to any of Jane's works. He did make it through one hour of Sense and Sensibility, once. I was quite thrilled with his progress. Anyway, back to the hope of a trip to England -- my dream is to visit Jane Country. I would love nothing more than to see where stood Steventon Rectory, where Jane was born and spent 25 years of her life. It was also here that she wrote Pride & Prejudice, Sense & Sensibility and Northanger Abbey. Although the rectory is no longer standing, the 12th century Steventon Church, where Jane worshipped, stands almost unchanged from those days. One can find inside the church memorial tablets to James Austen, Jane's eldest brother, who took over the parish from her father. His grave is in the churchyard. There is also a bronze plaque dedicated to Jane Austen inside the church. In January 1995, members of JASNA paid for the refurbishment of the church bells.

Above: A depiction of Steventon Rectory, birthplace of Jane Austen, as it appeared in the early 1800s

Below: Steventon Church as it appears today

While in England, I would also like to visit some of the countryside and villages mentioned in Jane's novels. I have a feeling that this will be a venture which will take much convincing with DH, but he is very good about that sort of thing. In fact, he even went with me to visit the House of Seven Gables and the birthplace of Nathaniel Hawthorne in Massachusetts, so I do have hope that he will also indulge me this. I will keep you posted!

I am listing below links to some of my favorite Austen sites. Take some time to browse and enjoy yourself! I visit each of these often!

The Republic of Pemberley

If you're interested, please let me know, and I will send you a coupon for $5 off any of the items in the gift shop.

The Jane Austen Society of North America

Jane Austen.Org

Austen.Com

The blessing of peace in all families,

Snow Day

When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled - marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.
Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;
Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;
Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder!
"O look at the trees!" they cried, "O look at the trees!"
With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,
Following along the white deserted way,
A country company long dispersed asunder:
When now already the sun, in pale display
Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.
For now doors open, and war is waged on the snow;
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,
Tread along brown paths, as toward their toil they go;
But even for them awhile no cares encumber
Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber
At the sign of the beauty that greets them,
for the charm they have broken.

London Snow

by Robert Bridges, 1844-1930

English

Hoping you have a happy snow day,

More Scenes from a Snowy Sewanee

My drive home...

A farm on the way home from Sewanee


A small lake outside of Winchester

Hope you're staying warm!

Snowy Sewanee

The view outside my office windows. I have a corner office with views in two directions. Wonderful! Is it any wonder why I love my office so much?

Stay warm and happy!

Today, the rain and cold are penetrating my soul. I feel sad. The drops of rain falling outside my window echo the tears in my heart, and it feels as though the heavens themselves are mournful. I heard from an old friend this morning that his father is dying and only has a couple of days left. The family has gathered, and now they wait. There is no joy for them during this Christmas season. I grieve for them and for their loss. What a difficult time to lose someone you love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The day is cold and dark and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold and dark and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

~The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Down South in the Land of Cotton

Having grown up in Kentucky, I knew nothing about cotton fields until I moved to south central Tennessee. Now, I am in cotton country, and on my long drive to Sewanee every day, I pass by many fields of cotton. And soybean. And corn. But mostly cotton. When I first moved here, I was fascinated with the cotton pods and begged my husband to stop on the side of the road so that I could reach through a fence and pick a branch off one of the cotton plants. It was such strange, foreign stuff to me, and I wanted to see it up close, touch it, smell it, take it apart and see exactly what it looked like (this has carried over from my childhood...inquiring minds want to know, you know).

The first year I lived here, I visited a farm so that I could watch the big machines vacuum up the cotton. I even went to a cotton gin so that I could see exactly what happens to the cotton once it leaves the field. This was one of the highlights of moving here for me. The machinery that processes cotton absolutely fascinates me.

Something I am less thrilled with, however, is the mess that is left behind once the fields are picked. Cotton is not a pretty plant once the fluffy white cotton pods are gone. The stalky, leggy, brownish gray sticks protrude from the ground looking rather pitiful (and dangerous), if you ask me. Beginning in October, the sides of the highways are littered with cotton once the machines begin their work, and for many more months, stalks are left in the fields to wither and become even more brittle. An emptied cotton field looks so forlorn to me. When I pass by them in November, they always reminds me of the frosty fields of snow I would see back home in Kentucky...except the frost is cotton that never made it into the giant vacuum cleaner. It makes my drive to work seem much colder than it actually is! I have to remind myself that I am not seeing a dusting of snow in the distance!

I can see much beauty in the baren winter landscape, but I admit that it is very difficult for me to find anything lovely about a graying cotton field. And here I am - it's not even December yet, and I am already looking forward to spring plowing time! At least where the cotton fields are concerned.

The Lost Art of Letter Writing

Yesterday, I received the sweetest surprise in my mailbox! Carla at 365 Letters sent me a true, real letter...handwritten even! It had been such a long time since I had received a note or letter in the mail, and I was thrilled. I have often commented on the downward trend of letter writing, and it truly has become a lost art. In a world of twitters, blogs, emails, and facebook entries, letter writing has fallen by the wayside. There is something so special about someone sitting down, taking pen in hand, and writing a letter just to you. And being on the receiving end of such a treasure is a true gift.

Carla has a wonderful blog focusing on her goal of writing a letter every day of the year. I think this is a wonderful concept. As I drove to work yesterday, I was thinking about how I should write more...quit depending on technology to keep in touch and put more of a personal touch on my correspondence. I have tons of beautiful stationery and note cards that I never use because I simply do not take the time to sit down and write anymore. Carla has it right: make letter writing a priority. It truly is a dying art form, and I find that ridiculously sad.

Carla, you have inspired me! Oh, I can't give up facebook or the quick convenience of email, but I truly intend to write more letters. Three a week. That is my solemn promise. And now I am off to write the first one. What a pleasure it will certainly be.

The Art of Paul Sawyier

"We're made so that we love. First, when we see things painted, things we have passed perhaps a hundred times, nor cared to see....they are better painted -- better to us...God uses us to help each other so, lending our minds out." ~Paul Sawyier

"Summer Moon"

I have long loved the beautiful artwork of Kentucky artist Paul Sawyier, known as the River Artist due to his amazing images of the Kentucky River. Sawyier (1865-1917) was an American impressionist artist choosing to work mostly in watercolor. He is best known for his paintings of the Frankfort, Kentucky area and New York City.

Having grown up in Kentucky, I have been fortunate to have seen Sawyier's work all my life, and a few years ago even more fortunate with the purchase of two limited prints that now hang in our master bedroom. Sawyier's is the the kind of work in which one can get lost, forget that you are not actually a part of the painting, forget that you are on the outside looking in rather than being a part of it.

The University of Kentucky's art museum has two of Sawyier's paintings and often sells prints of some of his work. If you are ever fortunate enough to be able to visit an exhibit of Sawyier's work, you will, no doubt, become enamored with it as I have. Anyone with a love for impressionism will find the work of Paul Sawyier among some of the most beautiful ever created.

"Yesterday's Summer"

"Jamaica Bay"

"Singing Bridge"

"Springtime on Elkhorn"

"Tanglewood"

"Coolkenny"

"Perfect Water"

"Lover's Rain"

"After the Snow"

Please Thank a Veteran

My Uncle, Roy E. Moore, was an American soldier. There are so many stories that have been circulated about him for years within our family...how he gave food to hungry children in Germany during WWII after he, a tank commander, and his fellow soldiers rolled through and liberated a village, how he cried over fallen fellow soldiers, how brave he was starring into the face of death. Even after he had served in WWII, he was asked to participate in the Korean War as an older man, and he did so without thinking twice.

My Uncle, Albert Lay, Jr., was a member of the United States Navy. He served courageously during WWII. He does not talk very much about all that he witnessed and did during the war, but we do know that he was what was, at that time, called a "Frog Man"...underwater demolition...the predecessors to the Navy Seals. He is STILL brave and tough as nails to this day.

My Uncle, Edmond L. Lesko, was a member of the United States Navy during the Vietnam War. He spent hours and hours on a submarine deciphering codes and listening for intelligence that the Armed Forces might have been able to use to their advantage. He was so fortunate to not have seen combat, but his sacrifice and the work that he did was no less important than if he had.

These are the men in my family who have most closely defined for me the sacrifice, commitment and dedication of what it means to be an American Veteran. For their sacrifices, and those of every American soldier, I am truly grateful.

Please tell a United States Veteran how appreciative you are today. It is the very least we can do.

Many blessings,