The Feast of Blessed Charlemagne, and a Prayer Written by Dom Prosper Gueranger O.S.B.

Today is the Feast of Blessed Charlemagne, Most Serene Augustus Crowned by God, the Great and Pacific Emperor Ruling the Roman Empire. If you're German, he's Karl der Große, if Serbian, Чарлс Великог, and if Swedish, Charles den Stora. In Latin, it's Carolus Magnus.

It is also, my middle son Charles' Name-day.

Born the son of Pepin the Short in AD 742, he became King of the Franks in AD 768 and King of the Lombards in AD 774. When he became King of the Lombards, it is likely that he was crowned with the Iron Crown of Lombardy, which in addition to being a regal crown is also a reliquary containing one of the Nails used to fix Our Crucified Lord to the Holy Cross.

He was raised to the Imperial Throne on the Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord, AD 800, in succession to Constantine VI of the 'Eastern' Empire. Constantine had been deposed and the Throne usurped by a woman who pretended to be Empress in her own right. A woman may not be Emperor of the Romans any more than a man may give birth!

James, Viscount Bryce says in his monumental The Holy Roman Empire,

When Odoacer compelled the abdication of Romulus Augustulus, he did not abolish the Western Empire as a separate power, but caused it to be reunited with or sink into the Eastern, so that from that time there was, as there had been before before Diocletian, a single undivided Roman Empire. In A.D. 800 the very memory of the separate Western Empire, as it had stood from the death of Theodosius till Odoacer, had, so far as appears, been long since lost, and neither Leo nor Charles nor any one among their advisers dreamt of reviving it. They too, like their predecessors, held the Roman Empire to be one and indivisible, and proposed by the coronation of the Frankish king not to proclaim a severance of the East and West, but to reverse the act of Constantine, and make Old Rome again the civil as well as the ecclesiastical capital of the Empire that bore her name. Their deed was in its essence illegal, but they sought to give it every semblance of legality: they professed and partly believed that they were not revolting against a reigning sovereign, but legitimately filling up the place of the deposed Constantine the Sixth, the people of the imperial city exercising their ancient right of choice, their bishop his right of consecration.

Bryce, Viscount James. The Holy Roman Empire (Kindle Locations 741-750). Vook, Inc.. Kindle Edition.

His 'signature'. See the little 'point' forming a tiny square in the larger square at the centre of K(A)R(O)L(U)S? A scribe would write out the sentence, and the Emperor would 'sign' his name by making the two short lines to make the tiny square.

Here is a prayer in his honour written by Dom Prosper Gueranger O.S.B., and it is not a prayer to gladden the hearts of liberal 'Catholics' and their left-wing henchmen!

Prayer to Charlemagne 

"Hail, O Charles, beloved of God, Apostle of Christ, defender of His Church, protector of justice, guardian of good customs, terror of the enemies of the Christian name! 

"The tainted diadem of the Caesars - purified by the hands of Leo - sits on your august forehead; the globe of the Empire rests in your vigorous hand; the ever-victorious sword in your combats for Our Lord is sheathed at your waist, and on your forehead the imperial anointing was added to the royal unction by the hand of the Pontiff who consecrated you and confirmed your authority. As the representative of the figure of Christ in His temporal Royalty, you desired that He would reign in you and through you.

"Now God rewards you for the love you had for Him, for the zeal you displayed for His glory, for the respect and confidence you showed toward His Spouse. In exchange for an earthly kingship, transitory and uncertain, you enjoy now an immortal kingdom where so many million of souls, who by your hands escaped idolatry, today honor you as the instrument of their salvation. 

"During the days of celebration of the birth of Our Lord by Our Lady, you offered to them the gracious temple you built in their honor (the Basilica of Aix-la-Chapelle), and which is still today the object of our admiration. It was in this place that your pious hands placed the newborn garment worn by her Divine Son. As retribution, the Son of God desired that your bones should gloriously rest in the same place to receive the testimony of the veneration of the peoples. 

"O glorious heir to the three Magi Kings of the East, present our souls before the One who wore such a humble garment. Ask Him to give us a part of the profound humility you had as you knelt before the Manger, a part of that great joy that filled your heart at Christmas, a part of that fiery zeal that made you realize so many works for the glory of the Infant Christ, and a part of that great strength that never abandoned you in your conquests for His Kingdom. 

"O mighty Emperor, you who of old was the arbiter of the whole European family assembled under your scepter, have mercy on this society that today is being destroyed in all its parts. After more than a thousand years, the Empire that the Church placed in your hands has collapsed as a chastisement for its infidelity to the Church that founded it. The nations still remain, troubled and afflicted. Only the Church can return life to them through the Faith; only she continues to be the depositary of public law; only she can govern the powerful and bless the obedient. 

"O Charles the Great, we beseech you to make that day arrive soon when society, re-established at its foundations, will cease asking liberty and order from the revolutions. Protect with a special love France, the most splendid flower of your magnificent crown. Show that you are always her king and father. Put an end to the false progress of the faithless empires of the North that have fallen into schism and heresy, and do not permit the peoples of the Holy Empire to fall prisoner to them."

And here is a link to an article my friend, the Mad Monarchist, did a few years ago:

The Mad Monarchist: The Feast of Charlemagne

And, from even longer ago, a post from Roman Christendom.

28 January - the Feast of Emperor St Charlemagne, the founder of the Holy Roman Empire

My Walk Downtown

It helps to have lived in God's Country, a/k/a Alberta, in the True North Strong and Free, Her Majesty's Dominion of Canada! I just walked downtown, for a bit of exercise. It's +9F/-13C outside right now, but I was dressed for it! In fact, I'm might have been a bit overdressed!

Let's see. I had on two pairs of socks, one cotton and one merino wool inside my boots. As a first layer, I had on US Government Issue thermal long johns. Over those I wore a pair of Dickies flannel lined blue denims, a regular long sleeve shirt, a heavy flannel shirt, and a lined plaid jacket with a built in hood. On my hands were a pair of Edmonton Eskimos stretchy mitts, covered by a pair of knit jersey gloves. On my head, under the hood, I had my Edmonton Oilers tuque, pulled down well over my ears. So I was quite comfortable.

Most of the walkways had been shoveled, but since we only had about two or three inches of snow, walking was easy. It was a nice bit of exercise. I think my doctors would be proud of me!

How Unobservant Can I Be?

I don't know how many times, since I moved to Wilber, I have walked up Wilson Street to St Wenceslaus. Going to Mass, going to the Church for a visit, walking to the Dollar General store through the Church parking lot, but it must have been dozens of times.

Yesterday, I got to Mass a few minutes early and I was standing outside, enjoying the warmer weather. As I stood looking at the Church, I suddenly realised that the small bit of ground in front was symmetrically landscaped! The entryway stands a bit out from the south end of the Church, and in each corner is a burning brush shrub, just like we have in our backyard. Then, there are identical flowers on both sides, and at each corner of the building, a rosebush, still blooming even tho' tomorrow is All Saints' Eve.

I mentioned this to my Other Half, but she reminded me that I have never been the most observant person!😁

God's Bounty

At every Mass, during the growing season, we pray for clement weather and sufficient rain for the crops. Now we're praying for good weather for the reaping, a good harvest, and a just price for the grain and for livestock. It seems God is answering our prayers. The harvest is in full swing and there is neither sufficient storage nor enough rail cars to transport the corn as it is brought to the Farmers' Co-op. Here's what they do. And, yes, those are full-sized pickup trucks, and that little dot to their left is a man!

How Do People Become Monarchists?

A wonderful video from my good friend Charles Coulombe. My journey was quite a bit different. As I often joke, I was nine or ten years old before I figured out that HM Queen Elizabeth II did not rule the United States.!😄

It was natural. tho'. I also often say, quite seriously, that I drank in Monarchism with my Mother's milk. My Mother and her mother both were Hampshire women. My Gran had been kissed, as an infant, by HM Queen Victoria. My Grandfather had served HM King George V in the 1914-18 War. My first memory, outside our family, was on 6 February 1952 when we heard that HM King George VI was dead and that The Princess Elizabeth was now Queen.

On the other side of the family, my Grandmother Weismiller was born in Sweden during the reign of HM King Oscar II. She had two brothers, one named Oscar for the King reigning at his birth, and one named Gustav for the Crown Prince, later HM King Gustav V.

So, with the exception of a short period when I was in my early 20s and flirted with various forms of Leftism, there has never been a point in my life where I have not been a Monarchist. The only change is that from a visceral belief, I've come to hold a set of beliefs which I can defend intellectually.

Another Day

We had a brief respite from the coming of autumn today. It was over 70 F! However, the forecasts for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night are all below freezing, with colder temperatures each succeeding night. That will undoubtedly be the end of the few hardy plants that are hanging on, the kale, the brave rose by the alleyway, and the flowers by the walkway, the identity of which I have no idea.

I'm looking forward to colder weather. I enjoy winter. Having lived in Alberta, I love to tease people here in the Midwest by asking them what they would do if it ever actually got cold. Having survived, quite nicely, a walking paper route at minus 50 degrees, I laugh at the 'cold' here.

On the other hand, my Other Half hates the cold. She is extremely sensitive to it, and is uncomfortable at any temperature much below 60. I tell her that she just needs to learn to dress for it. She doesn't take kindly to my advice, pointing out that she's already wearing three layers in an attempt to stay warm.

I'm just glad I've always lived where there are well defined seasons. I love three of them, but summer I could do without!

The Adventure of the Bread Machine

Recently, whilst we were visiting our children, our youngest son was kind enough to buy us an Oster bread machine at a thrift shop.

My first attempt at using it was a disaster, unlike the two beautiful, delicious loaves my Other Half has made. Of course, it would have helped had I not used three times the required yeast! I read Tbsp for tsp. It over rose, and then fell, so it was a misshapen lump when I took it out. It actually turned out edible. VERY crusty and yeasty, but edible. My Other Half had some soaked in the fresh tomato sauce she was cooking down, with shredded cheese on top, and I crumbled up about 1/4 of the 'loaf' in a gruel (soup) of vegetable stock, barley, and steel cut oats. I call my concoctions of that sort gruel, which she finds off putting. However, she tasted it and said it was actually quite tasty. 

As soon as the results of my abominable attempt are eaten, I plan on trying again, this time being very careful with reading the recipe!

As autumn progresses, there are still the hardy ones! A rose out by the alleyway, defiantly blooming!

Community Supper

As I have pointed my Other Half is a vegetarian, and I eat very little meat at home. However, every Monday evening, our little town has a community supper, free and open to all comers. It's held in the Lutheran Church, about three blocks south of our house. My Other Half is not a very 'social' person, so she doesn't feel like joining me, but I walk down there every week. The menu varies widely, depending on who's responsible for cooking. Sometimes it's one of the local churches (there are three in town, the Catholic Church I attend, and Lutheran and Methodist), and sometimes it's a family who has volunteered.

Like most regular gatherings of this sort, people tend to congregate in little groups, each sitting at 'their own' table. I picked my table the first night, and I've started getting to know several people. One is Emil, a Korean War vet, and another is a retired barber who moved here a couple of years ago.

There is always meat on the menu! Tonight the main dish was green bean and hamburger casserole, with tater tots on top. And desserts! Tonight we had chocolate cake and cherry cobbler. Delicious!

Another perk of living in a small town!

A Walk on an Autumn Afternoon

I walked down to the pub today for a beer, and to restock my home supply in the refrigerator. We are at 60 F, and under a wind advisory. The trees are shedding their leaves, and they're blowing hither and yon. The sun is shining, so even with the wind it's comfortable, light jacket weather. It's a beautiful day in South East Nebraska!

Being a Catholic In Wilber, Nebraska

As is obvious from my profile to the right, I am a Traditional Catholic. I prefer the Mass and Sacraments as celebrated according to the approved liturgical books of 1962 and I recite the Roman Breviary as reformed by Pope John XXIII or the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin according to the Carmelite Rite in its last pre-conciliar recension.

However, since I no longer drive and the nearest Traditional Latin Mass is just a bit over 25 miles away, I am constrained to attend the Mass of Pope Paul VI. In the past, this has been a source of frustration and ofttimes anger for me, but now I'm blessed to live in the most orthodox Diocese in the US, the Diocese of Lincoln,  under our Bishop, His Excellency James Douglas Conley.

Many years ago, I had occasion to hear Mass in St Mary's Church, across the street from the State Capitol in Lincoln. After Mass, I approached the Celebrant and told him that in all the years I had been Catholic, I had never seen the Mass of Paul VI celebrated strictly according to the rubrics, or as Father Z would say by, 'saying the black, and doing the red'. Father replied that I could have attended any Church in the Diocese because that was just the way it was done under His Excellency Fabian Bruskewitz, the Ordinary at the time. A gentleman who overheard my remark said that Bishop Flavin, Bishop Bruskewitz's predecessor, had spent his entire time as Bishop building a wall around the Diocese and that Bishop Bruskewitz was adding to it brick by brick! I can honestly say that Bishop Conley is continuing the construction! And, we have St Gregory the Great Diocesan Seminary, envisioned by Bishop Flavin and brought to fruition by Bishop Bruskewitz. In a post-conciliar era of closing diocesan seminaries, as it says in the history of the seminary, 'It is the first free-standing diocesan seminary to be opened in the United States for many decades.'

We are, to my knowledge, the only Diocese in the US that does not allow girls to serve the altar or employ Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion. Boys serve the Altar, but they are never called 'acolytes', because assisting the Celebrant in the Sanctuary, and distributing Holy Communion, are mature men who are instituted acolytes, an official ministry in the Rite of Paul VI.

Not only are our Bishop and Clergy solidly orthodox, we also have an FSSP Parish in Lincoln offering the Traditional Latin Mass, the FSSP's Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary in Denton (the TLM that's 25 miles from me), and the Traditional Carmel of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, in Valparaiso.

So what does this mean for a crotchety old curmudgeon in a little rural town? Well, it means that when I go to Mass, I know that it will be straight from the book. When we have a visiting Priest, as we did today, I know that his Mass will be identical to my Pastor's Mass next week. For the first time in my Catholic life, I'm actually considering buying a Missal of Paul VI. In the past, I saw no reason to do so, since every Priest seemed to be making up his own Mass as he went along, no matter what was printed in the missal or what the rubrics said. Why invest in a missal if I couldn't even follow the Masses I was hearing?

It means that I can expect solid Catholic teaching in the homilies. We hear about sin, the necessity for confession, fasting, Holy Days of Obligation, Fatima, Consecration to Mary, the Rosary, etc. You know, all that stuff that got 'de-emphasised' after Vatican II.

It means I belong to a vibrant Catholic Parish, albeit a small one. We don't have 'coffee hour' every Sunday, but when we do, I don't plan on eating lunch! The preparation is taken on by Parish families in an alphabetic rotation. This morning, the Priest announced that there would be coffee and rolls after Mass. We did have cake, but I didn't see any rolls! What I did see in addition to the cake, was biscuits and gravy, a breakfast casserole of bacon, eggs, potatoes, and corn, a fruit salad, and a couple of dishes that I didn't sample. We did, however have coffee (and orange juice).

It means that when our Patronal Feast of St Wenceslaus, Patron of Prague, Bohemia and the Czech Republic, as well our little Parish in the Czech Capital of the US,  rolled around, we celebrated the External Solemnity the Sunday before since it was on Thursday this year. Our Mass was as 'High' as we could get. Extra servers, incense, and all sung. After Mass, we had a Eucharistic Procession through the town to the outdoor Czech Theatre, where Father offered Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. On the way to the theatre we prayed the Rosary in unison, and on the return trip we sang old, traditional hymns. After the procession, we adjourned to St Ludmila's Hall, our Church basement, named for St Wenceslaus' grandmother who taught him the Catholic Faith. There we feasted on a potluck! I can't even remember all the dishes we had, but the centrepiece was duck, dumplings and sauerkraut, a traditional Bohemian feast day meal.

It means that, for the first time since I left my FSSP Latin Mass Community over ten years ago, I feel at home in the Parish in which I attend Mass!

The Vagaries of Diet

I was raised on a farm in Northeast Kansas. We kept cattle, hogs, and chickens. Every year, I helped butcher a steer and a hog. I also got to pluck the feathers of lots of chickens after Mum or my Grandmother chopped their heads off.  Most of the meat was taken into town to the cold storage locker, but Mum and Grandma always canned some beef, parboiling it, adding tallow, and sterilising the jars. That was just in case we got snowed in and couldn't make it to town! We rendered the pork trimmings into lard, and I got to eat a few of the cracklings, the very deep fat fried scraps of meat left after the liquid lard had been pressed out. We stuffed our own sausage in sheep guts we bought at the locker. It was smoked in a 55 gallon drum, and then hung in the 'big pantry', a large walk-in closet/small room off my bed room.

Needless to say, meat was a prominent feature of every meal! Breakfast would have bacon, ham, or sausage. Dinners (the noon meal on the farm) would have steak or pork-chops. Supper, in the evening, might contain some of the sausage that hadn't been stuffed into casings, along with sausage gravy, and the 'turnip kraut' my Mum made (just like sauerkraut, except made from shredded turnips). Sunday dinners, eaten after Church and the main meal of the day, were always the classic English 'roast and three veg'. Beef-roast or pork-roast with potatoes and a couple of other vegetables, often cabbage or brussel sprouts and carrots. The remains of Sunday's dinner made Monday's dinner, bubble and squeak, a hash made from the left over roast and vegetables.

After leaving the farm, I might have moderated my intake a bit, since I was no longer toiling in the fields and doing chores, but meat remained a large part of my diet. Then, in my early 20s, I became a Hindu. This, of course, entailed vegetarianism. The Hindu phase lasted only as long as I could resist the siren call of a good beef-steak, about six months! When I became a Catholic, in my 30s, Fridays became days of abstinence from meat, and a couple of years ago I decided to follow the old Carmelite precept of abstaining on Wednesdays as well. Good thing I like seafood!

Having returned to the omnivorous lifestyle, I've never looked back. Yes, there were times when good steaks were not exactly in my budget, but there were always cheaper cuts of roasts and fatty, cheap ground beef. As I've gotten older and lost most of my teeth, even when I could afford a good steak, I've had to pass on it, but there are always cube steaks, already sort of 'chewed'. and a good pork-chop can be cut into small pieces and successfully masticated.

Then, the Other Half and I reconciled after 13 years. In that interval, she had become (gasp!) a vegetarian! She has no problem with my eating meat or cooking it in the house, tho' she never did like fish, and she's asked me to only cook that when she's away. However, I like eating the evening meal with her, and I see no reason for the preparation of two different repasts. So, most of the time, I'm a vegetarian.

If we go out to eat, however, I have full rein and I run with it! Even if it's just a visit to the local Subway, I get a sandwich containing meat. Pizza, eaten out, means a half pepperoni or Canadian bacon pie. If I happen to be at the pub downtown during lunch except on days of abstinence, I might have the special, which always contains meat. And, on Monday evenings we have a community supper, free to all comers, which I regularly attend. There is always meat there!

What I miss the most is good South German/Czech dishes like duck, sauerkraut, and dumplings, sauerbraten, kubasa/kielbasa and rabbit. It's made doubly hard because not only do I live in the Beef State, and in the middle of hog country (there's a Smithfield pork processing plant about nine miles up the highway), I live in the Czech Capital of the USA, officially recognised as such by S.J.Res. 51 (100th), signed by President Ronald Reagan on 10 July 1987. We have two butcher shops/meat markets where all these meat products are readily available! Sometimes I get lucky. In August during Czech Days, our annual festival celebrating the town's Czech heritage, she told me to just eat downtown and get some good Bohemian food. I went to the dinner at the Wilber Hotel where I had duck, dumplings, kraut, and mashed potatoes, all washed down with a bottle of Czechvar from České Budějovice, Czechia! Also, on the External Solemnity of St Wenceslaus, the very Bohemian Patron Saint of my Parish, we had a potluck in St Ludmila Hall, the Church basement, named for St Wenceslaus' grandmother. There, I also got duck, dumplings, and kraut!

I am probably actually healthier for having cut most meat out of my diet, but I do not envision ever returning to strict vegetarianism!

Pictures on an Autumn Afternoon

Earlier I took Maximus Barker out to the yard. I realised that even tho' there's an autumnal chill in the air, not all the colour is gone! The first, however, is actually a tree/bush by the garage the leaves of which turn a deep, dark red before falling. I've discovered what this shrub is! It is a Euonymus atropurpureus, commonly called, in this region, the 'burning bush'. 

These are flowers growing by the walk by the house out to the front yard. Not being an expert horticulturalist, I have no idea what they are. I just know that they're a welcome splash of colour on a cool autumn afternoon.

After supper, we took Max for a run out by the river. On the south side of the road is a corn field ready for harvest.

And there's still colour in the country!

An abandoned mail box. I know it's abandoned, except by the wasps, whose nests I found inside!

A shot of the river, with the trestle of the old bridge that was washed out in a flood years ago. The County decided the crossing was no longer need.

Deer spoor in the dried mud at the side of the road. I'm guessing a large buck. There were tracks all down the side of the road, but most of them were doe or fawn sized.

And just for fun, a late afternoon shot of the Other Half's shadow, with the Old Curmudgeon in the distance!

The Household Canine

Yes, we have a dog. His daily name is Max, but I've been told that his actual given name is 'Maximus'. Because of his habit of barking at every rabbit or squirrel that he sees, or at at every mouse he hears in the walls, I've added a surname, 'Barker', because he's the greatest barker. I would swear that sometimes, too, he barks just to enjoy the sound of his own voice. He'll be in the back yard, just standing there when suddenly he gives tongue without there being anything, at least obvious to me, to bark at.

He's normally well behaved except for his barking, but he does have a tendency to try to 'herd' us, which is not surprising, since he's a boxer-border collie mix. If one of us is taking him out and we take too long to get his lead affixed to his collar, he'll get behind us and gently bump our legs in an effort to encourage us to get a move on.

He does, occasionally relax, as you can see above, but his greatest joy is running. In the yard, he's on a 25' lead, so he's limited, but when we take him out into the country, by the Big Blue, or the Clatonia NRD lake, and let him out, it's run, run, run, and run some more! 

The only exception is at the lake if there are hunters or target shooters about. He's gun shy, and at the first loud noise, he starts back to the car, obviously expecting us to follow. The period around the Fourth of July is very trying for him, as well. There is a walk in closet between our two bedrooms that he uses as a den in which to hide from loud noises. He headed in there last night. I assume there was a high school football game in progress, because I had taken him outside and I could hear the cheers from the field. Suddenly there was a loud boom, I would guess to celebrate a touchdown by the local team, and he was ready! Normally, when I'm bringing him into the house, he sort of saunters, checking things out and sniffing the air. Not last night! He was straining at his lead to get back to his den.

The only other time that he strains at his lead to come back into the house is when the Other Half returns from work. He's quite aware that as soon as the humans' meal is ready, he gets to eat. The way he goes crazy would cause you to think that he's starving, instead of being sleek, and well fed on a diet of commercial dry dog food and homemade rice and hot-dogs in bouillon broth! Saturdays are especially frustrating for him (and for us!). She comes home at 15h00 instead of the normal 17h00, so we are not yet ready to eat. Obviously, his watch is broken, because he's ready to eat the moment she walks through the door!

She had had him for two or three years before I moved in, but he has bonded with me quite well. The other night, she playfully swatted me on my bum with an empty cracker box. He immediately ran to make sure I was alright, and he does the same if he thinks I'm 'attacking' her.

All in all, he's a joy to have around, even if he can be a pest at times. Earlier this month, we kenneled him whilst we went on holiday to see the children and grandchildren. We returned a day early, so there was one work day that she was gone, and there was no Maximus in the house. It felt strange and lonely. He's relaxing beside my chair as I type this.

I'd not had a dog for almost 15 years since I had to have my beloved Sam put down, but I'm glad Max has come into my life. As St Bernard of Clairvaux said,  “Qui me amat, amet et canem meum. (Who loves me will love my dog also.)”

Frustration Working a Crossword

Sometimes my weird knowledge of trivia can get in the way of working crosswords, as odd as that seems. Earlier tonight, I was working a Sunday puzzle from the LA Times. The clue was 'GUM competitor'. To me, GUM meant the gigantic department store of the Soviet era. I even tried to cheat by looking up GUM, the store, on Wikipedia. No hints there! 

I finally 'worked round' the clue (fellow crossword addicts will know what I mean!) and filled in all the letters. The answer was ORALB, which still meant nothing to me. Finally, in desperation, I consulted a blog which gives the answers to every LA Times crossword for several years back.

I guess the problem was that I always buy generic toothbrushes! It had never hit me that GUM is a brand of toothbrush, and that ORALB when presented in its normal orthography is Oral-B. At least I finished the puzzle, even if I had absolutely no idea what that clue meant!

The Vegetable Garden

Another sign of autumn. The vegetable garden is almost done.The kale hangs bravely on, but the rest is a desolate wasteland, The zucchini and patty-pan summer squash died early. There was debate as to whether it was bugs or a virus that killed them, but it was a blessing from God that they died! They were producing so copiously that we couldn't eat, freeze, or dry them fast enough. Many of them went to the Clatonia Post Office, where they were left on the counter for the taking.

Of the rest, the onions are pulled and dried, the peppers are all eaten and we're buying store-bought now, the basil, both green and purple has been pulled and hung to dry, and the tomatoes that were left ripening on the vine have been picked and are completing the process in the warmth of the south-facing, enclosed porch. We've eaten fresh tomatoes, fresh salsa, had them on Pizza Margherita along with fresh garden basil, and used them in garden salads. We've boiled them down into sauce, which we've frozen. In fact, tonight's supper is rotini alla marinara made with some of it.

All in all, it was a success. And people will say that you have to use pesticides to have a good garden. Don't believe them!

Autumn Has Arrived

Autumn is upon us here in Wilber! The leaves are beginning to turn, the harvest is in full swing on the farms around town, and I can often hear the grain dryers at the Farmers' Co-op elevator a few blocks away on the other side of the highway.

After having lived in large cities for the past twenty years, it is so nice to return to the slow paced life in a small town. I often morbidly joke that I've come home to the river to die. I was born, over 70 years ago, in the small town of Marysville, KS, on the Big Blue River, which, by the way, is neither big nor blue. I learned to fish and to swim in the Big Blue. It was an integral part of my boyhood. I have spent almost my entire life in river towns: on the Big Blue, the Kaw, the Missouri, and the North Saskatchewan..

Now, once again, I live on the Big Blue, albeit 60 miles upriver from where I was born. I doubt I'll be doing any swimming in it, but I certainly plan on getting in a few more fishing days before I shuffle off this mortal coil!

Musing on George Orwell

It is amusing, in an ironic sort of way, that one of my favourite authors as a young, stupid, and wrongheaded socialist, should remain one of my favourite writers as a grey-bearded conservative of 70!

Salutatory

I have decided to start blogging again. This will be a bit different than my old blog The New Crusade. It was more of a news aggregator, but I hope to make this attempt a journal of my thoughts and comments on what I read and on life in general. I hope you enjoy it.