By Doug “Uncola” Lynn via TheBurningPlatform.com
On Mother’s Day, my family and I attended a worship service at the church where my wife and I were married three decades ago. While sitting in the pew, waiting for the service to start, it struck me how little the nave had changed. Actually, from what I could see, it had not changed at all.
Traveling back in time, mentally, to the day I was married, I pictured my bride, the room, and the people in attendance. Then I imagined time passing outside in an array of flowing colors, similar to a DVD set on fast-forward; as the worship area remained unmoved and steadfast, like a super-sized stone stuck in the center of a rushing river.
As the congregation sang one of my favorite hymns, “Be Thou My Vision”, I saw colors of emerald, ruby, and amber on a display of stained-glass and envisioned a river of time gliding just beyond, over the last thirty years. I perceived changes, like shifting shorelines, and witnessed the passing of moments drifting away like clouds overhead, or people waving on the riverbank.
Children born, then growing up, then moving out. Family and friends passing. Weddings and funerals and anniversaries. Confirmations and graduations. Old houses and new towns.
How strange the interior of the church remained as it was; unmoved as time’s river flowed like water through the center of a hollow rock and all around.
How strange to feel the river in me.
Like the church, I have also grown aged, and scarred, and weather-worn on the outside, while in many respects remaining unfazed within. I gazed upon my wife and children sitting next to me. I was blessed.
The river traveled beyond my comprehension. It humbled me.
The sermon was about Martha the busybody and her sister, Mary, who sat at the feet of Jesus; how we’re all too preoccupied to enjoy and appreciate what should be most valued in life. The moral of the story, and the sermon, was to maintain the proper perspectives and to keep our priorities straight.
But, once again, my thoughts floated downstream like driftwood.
I thought of an article I read online that morning, by New York Times columnist, Maureen Dowd. Therein, she conflated Trump to the swamp by way of innuendo, smoke and mirrors, and sleight-of-hand. Lost in a feminine fog of mental busyness, she sardonically moaned through the warped lens of her twisted perspectives; because Donald Trump flipped her little world upside down. Unsurprisingly, however, amidst all of her struggles, Dowd completely ignored the dangers, and the devils, still haunting the highest levels of the United States government; as well as the obvious conspiracy to circumvent a constitutionally elected president; another charismatic populist leader crucified.
In considering the piece, I concluded Dowd was either deceived or disingenuous. Either way, it didn’t matter.
So, I instead considered Trump’s immigration policies and the recent stabbings in Paris, France. I contemplated Europe and gun control; wars in the Middle East, and economic collapse.
I found myself wondering if the church walls, which were then surrounding my family, would withstand a societal breakdown; and I speculated if refuge could be found there in future days.
I recalled reading once how worship gatherings might soon become Sunday morning targets and remembered a scene from a movie where early-American parishioners were boarded up in a church and burned alive.
I wondered what I would do if active shooters entered the sanctuary and began to plink away at the congregants like the proverbial fish in the proverbial barrel. Upon securing my family’s safety to the best of my ability, I wanted to believe that I would rush the nearest attacker head-on; that I would be brave, and that a strong offense was the best form of defense. I conjectured that I would hit the attackers hard, at full speed, even if taking bullets on the way. They would be neutralized and, in so doing, if I were to lose my life, the words of Lou Reed would then blaze, one last time, across my mind:
I’d look at this as a wondrous moment
To end this mystery….
I’d break up into a million pieces
And fly into the sun
No matter what happens, I’ve had a great life. For that, I am grateful. Of course I have regrets. Even so, I wouldn’t change a thing.
And that’s how it’s done.
Beautiful.
very nice.
Nice one, tadpole.
Martha was really just making sure the Lord got a decent meal. She gets a bad rap in the story and no one EVER seems to realize when their brother died, it was MARTHA who knew to send for Jesus.
She probably had to change her name after the Lazarus business.
I was married in the same church in which my parents married and in which I attended church all of my youth and part of my adult (younger) life. One my grandfather built in 1953 on three donated acres so my grandmother could have a churchhouse and a school for local kids. There is a powerful sense of belonging that settles on me when I enter the building’s vestibule and see the braided rope hanging from the bellfry which I was allowed to pull to ring the bells and tell the community it was time for church on Sunday mornings.
You sent me into that nostalgic place.
I stopped in to add a comment to Mary’s post, but saw yours instead.
Actually, in retrospect, I believe this one may have been written (somewhat) in response to Mary Christine’s “Women”, Indentured’s sharing about his wife (and parents), HSF’s mention of the Apostle’s Creed, and Hollywood Rob’s “Tribe”.
Nostalgic, indeed.
No better place to post one’s thoughts than to a burning platform, I always say.
Like everyone, since the dawn of time, Martha did what she thought was right and so did Mary. Each to their own and to everything there is a season.
Another beautiful piece.
I had actually posted a comment on “Women”, beginning by reciting the Creed, as I have done daily for a couple decades. ‘El Coyote’ responded, calling it the Nicene Creed, to which I replied that it was actually the Apostle’s Creed. I got called out by Fleabaggs for the sermon……..then, as you and he do so well making pictures with words, HSF gave an FWIW about the Apostle’s Creed (guess you just have to in the club?)
Picture a not so heroic scenario, but one that is equally plausible: the gunmen rush in, place the barrel against your head, in front of the wife. All he requires to grant life is that you deny Jesus Christ………(sorry !)
annuit coeptis novus ordo seclorum- been planned for centuries and freemasons are the devil’s henchmen leading to the chaos !
Ripples in the pond, Ordo. Ripples in the pond. I saw the original exchange and was struck by the candidness of Hardscrabble’s declarations. That’s all that was.
Regarding the two credos, they both say pretty much the same; except one is simpler and older. The other is longer and slightly more precise?
The last line in your comment above reads almost like a battle cry.
Sometime, I’ll tell you about El Coyote’s comparison / contrast of Father Mapple’s sermon from “Moby Dick” with Al Pacino’s character, Tony Montana, from the movie Scarface. It’s a TBP classic in my opinion.
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“Ripples in the pond, Ordo. Ripples in the pond. I saw the original exchange and was struck by the candidness of Hardscrabble’s declarations. That’s all that was”–I’ve been known to stick my old boot in my mouth, you’ve got a way of making it a soft chew.
“Regarding the two credos, they both say pretty much the same; except one is simpler and older. The other is longer and slightly more precise?”–Exactly, almost a potato/potawto response to El Coyote, but one I wanted to clear up.
“The last line in your comment above reads almost like a battle cry”–It was, and is. Locally, I witnessed many things transpire within the municipal government beginning nearly 20 yrs. back, including a nearly one million $ settlement based on ‘discrimination’ from an employee who would drop his DOC charges off to mow, and then go visit one of his several ‘baby’s mammas’. Now, after three months of investigations into the death of an employee-a man I do not know, but who left behind a family-I’ve read in the two local ‘newspapers’ how the city (FREEMASONS) have placed the blame on this man, the DOC individual left in his charge, the ‘faulty’ (wornout) piece of equipment, and his not properly reporting the defect-HOGWASH ! I know from personal experience the M.O. of the management level (freemasons) of this city government. (The same prompted me to begin looking into the history/workings of this ‘secret society’ on a much higher level) I’m considering re-appearing before the city council (which leads to a police escort to the podium-quite intimidating) to speak on behalf of “what’s right”.
“Sometime, I’ll tell you about El Coyote’s comparison / contrast of Father Mapple’s sermon from “Moby Dick” with Al Pacino’s character, Tony Montana, from the movie Scarface. It’s a TBP classic in my opinion”–would love to hear it. I’ve stated before what I think of HSF, Uncola, and Stucky…….I’ll add, after reading El Coyote’s comments, that it would be well worth the time !
If there is another site that draw’s as interesting a collection of comments, I’ve not found it! Indentured Servant particularly struck me recently, as it sounds like his family could well have attended the ‘class’ proffered by my old mother…..everybody’s got their own sack of rocks to carry, huh?
I like you Ordo. You are my kind of crazy. Of course, I say that in all sincerity and with great affection. All I ask is that you might remember that “paragraph breaks” are your friend.
That said – I find it ironic how my embedded “nave” link in the first paragraph of the above piece, transports the reader to an Encyclopedia Britannica page whereby the term is said to have derived from the Latin navis, meaning “ship”.
Therefore, this thread is perfectly appropriate to share EC’s contemplations as follows.
As usual, he will likely claim to have forgotten, but it went down like this:
First, EC linked to Father Mapple’s sermon from the original “Moby Dick” film:
Next, he linked to the final scene of Scarface:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRLKJ09JmGo
Then, he described each group of people as “arriving at a big house in which the congregants were received by one who was standing at a level above them” (paraphrased).
One group heard the sermon from Father Mapple and, at the end, though unseen in the clip above, the viewers saw one prostrate upon the water, and Father Mapple falling to his knees, remaining there silent.
EC claimed the differences between both onscreen demonstrations were “minor but significant” (an understatement if you ask me):
One is the congregation of the Lord, the other a synagogue of Satan. In one, the preacher speaks of life and Heaven. In the second, their “preacher” tells his congregants, “I will send you to hell!”
EC added that Father Mapple spoke of Jonah and his service to others as Tony Montana spoke of himself and the debt others owed him; and that it was all in accordance to this:
The moral of the story? For me, it was as follows:
For we are of an ocean
Where the waters run deep
Pray your river not run dry
When you fall asleep
Amen, EC. Like I said, a TBP classic (in my opinion).
You have got a good memory, Unforgotten. Both movie scenes are particular favorites and I never tire of watching them whenever. If you watched the movie Heat, you would already know the criminal code: never get attached to something you can’t drop in 20 seconds. If Tony had been a real preacher, he would have been single and not shacked up with the blonde. He enforces the criminal code when his buddy decides to marry Gina but is very lenient with his own mistake. Or rather, mistakes, he failed to carry out the car bombing and aided the government thereby, Big mistake.
As for Tony floating on the water, the blood and abundant water recall the crucifixion where the centurion sees blood and water coming from the wound in the body. At that point, Jesus and Tony are already dead. Both went to hell but only one came back.
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EL Cibernetico commenting on his own comment says:
December 12, 2015 at 11:52 am
I thought about the similarities in the movie snippets I posted: Father Mapple’s sermon in Moby Dick and the final scene in Scarface:
Both have a group of folks arriving at a big house. The congregants are received by one standing a level above them. They hear a message from this preacher. At the end of the sermon, the preacher lays down on the ground. We see one prostrate upon the water, at the end of his sermon, though unseen here, Father Mapple falls to his knees and stays there silent.
The differences are minor but significant: one is the congregation of the Lord, the other a synagogue of Satan. In one, the preacher speaks of life and Heaven. In the second, their preacher tells his congregants, ‘I will send you to hell!’
Father Mapple speaks of Jonah and his service to others, Tony Montana speaks of himself and the debt others owe him.
It is all in accordance with this verse:
I am come in my Father’s name, and you receive me not: if another shall come in his own name, him you will receive. John 5:43
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Thank you for the ‘nave’ comment. It fits in nicely with the Moby Dick snippet. A ship and a space ship are both called nave in Spanish. One who sails is a navegante. To think you were there in the nave of the lord marveling at the river of time.
Also, thx for posting them together, if you watch them at the same time, you observe the calm of the church scene- the peace of the Lord vs the frantic scene of the second. This is the unrest of the heathen’s rage.
Haha ! I can easily see why I should get a little more friendly with the paragraphs !
Seems that I have spent an almost equal amount of time in both ‘congregations’.
Your opinion is good enough for me (I haven’t been around here long enough), so a TBP it must be ! Thanks for posting it, as predicted, well worth my time to see !!
A hat tip to Any Mouse, for sharing a little of his ‘cheese’. Always good to have a little nibble from a different block.
Thanks again to all, including El Coyote.
@ EC – RE: your link to The Alan Parson Project’s “Time”.
When I was in high school, I worked alot. Alot. And my $$ went into my car(s) and stereo system(s). Anyway, when with friends, it was always Dire Straits, Eagles, Steely Dan, Doobie Bros, Pink Floyd, Zappa, et al.
But sometimes, when alone in my room at night, and to the dim light of my lava lamp, I would crank up The Alan Parson’s Project LOUD.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONoi86Zyj3k
Ordo – your paragraph breaks are freakin’ AWESOME. I can see you more clearly now.
BTW & FYI – that Anymouse above is EC
So I am not the only one who gets distracted by shiny, sparkly things.
We’re also distracted by the mere mention of boobs and other stuff.
On Mother’s Day we floated down the river our family last visited twenty years earlier. With the wife and all three daughters now in their twenties in tow, we made a pilgrimage back. Everything was the same at Ginny Springs. Calm, yet at a quick pace, with rafts of every conceivable design in tow, like a column of leaf cutter ants we all headed toward the river. Giddy children, goofy adolescents, contented adults moving to assault the river as the most passive invasion army ever assembled. Hoots and hollers, giggles and laughter, we all made our way leisurely downstream through the crystal springs. The more things change the more they stay the same. A perfect day for mom.
That sounds perfectly heavenly. Yesterday would have been a great day to do something like that in this neck of the woods. It was 91 here.
Exceptional Doug. It is not the walls of the church that protect you. Many times over the span of human history those outside the walls have prevailed and those inside have perished. It is through the power and bravery of those who have been attacked that their lives and their culture are preserved.
You may not know it but many churches have concealed carry inside to protect the congregation.
Thanks, Rob. In my mind as I wrote, I was perhaps (futilely) hoping any refuge would be from time itself on this earth. I thought of the quotes: “All that really belongs to us is time; even he who has nothing else has that” and “time is friend to no man” and the one on Zero Hedge that says: “On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.”.
Also, the Robert Frost poem:
On another note, I wanted to encourage you to maybe consider starting your own blog where you can publicly catalog your writings. WordPress has several user-friendly templates for not much $$ per year. Just a thought. Ripples in the pond and all that. For example, as of early this morning, 38% of all hits to my site came from the above article and from the Nordic island country of Iceland. Why? I have absolutely no idea. Regardless, I thought it might be something you might enjoy. Either way, may the force be with you.
I read a quote the other day – something to the effect that “You are the result of the love of thousands of people.” This profound idea had never occurred to me, so it sent me off into a reverie about love producing life. Love can’t help it, it is the life giver. Creation, always bursting with life, is the manifestation of God’s love; you are the manifestation of it, too.
Everything anti-life emerges from enemy territory: lies, hatred, theft, murder, war, and every kind of abuse. We find impulses within to give assent to or practice these things despite our roots in love. Managing to live out a life that resists the cult of destruction and death is a major marker of spiritual and emotional health and allows the wide blessings of love to define our days.
Those of us who enjoyed the nurture of loving mothers (and fathers) owe much to them, and we carry their legacy to our own dear ones, family and friends. The cycles go ‘round, as Uncola and commenters so artfully describe. Let us be worthy.
Gayle, I wrote a similar comment long ago, I titled it – You are a f–g miracle. I hardly got a bite. I thought it may have been too crude for folks here. Nah. I wasn’t reflecting on the love aspect but I appreciated for the moment, the fact that so many people lived and died, crashed and burned even, so you could be born.
This:
“Love can’t help it, it is the life giver. Creation, always bursting with life, is the manifestation of God’s love; you are the manifestation of it, too.
Everything anti-life emerges from enemy territory: lies, hatred, theft, murder, war, and every kind of abuse. ”
It seems like the Creator is anti-life to some people. War takes up a good part of the Old Testament. I used to question all of that, as many people do. I don’t anymore and we can talk about that another time because it would turn into a rather long essay.
Uncola, You are so creative with descriptive words. I am always amazed at how you can build a word picture.
My mothers day was spent cooking for my family. It’s the only way I can get them to come out to the country. If I do it again I’m getting take out BBQ or something. Yes, they could have brought food and my always dependable younger daughter did. My always dependable husband smoked pork butt and ribs. For various reasons I did not ask anyone else to help.
I didn’t know that Van Morrison did an album of hymns. I will have to check it out.
I don’t really care for contemporary Christian music, for the most part. The old hymns teach scripture. The new ones are repetitive and seem to be meant to hypnotize. I do like to hear updated versions, or “cover versions” if you will, of old hymns. I have heard some really nice versions of old hymns made new.
Every once in a while I will come across a new hymn that I will get attached to. The Revelation Song is one of those. I used to listen to that a lot after my surgery. I helped me remember who was in charge of my recovery.
There are a lot of versions of it out there but this is my favorite
Mary, 2 points.
1-i was late to the game, but found your first ever post interesting with quite a few familiar observations.
Kudos, for a fine submittal.
2. Check out “Tell Your Heart To Beat Again” by P.C. and D.
LGR, those PC&D lyrics are spot on. No living in the past. Forgiveness is not so much for the forgiven but for yourself so you can live in peace.
I like the tune.
For some, they can be their own worst critics.
And your words Mary are absolutely true.
It’s a difficult concept to remember and truly, truly apply.
I’ve not mastered it yet, but keep trying. As Dr. Wayne Dyer said, in an audio book,
It’s a trap, to get hung up on being right, when one feels they’ve been wronged. Holding a grudge is a roadblock to the freedom that forgiveness can present you with, when you master the art of letting go.
It happened. Whether right or wrong doesn’t matter. Learn from it, and move on. Release it.
Exactly as you said, Mary. The longer we hold onto anger and mental anguish…we’re not punishing the ‘offender’…we’re jailing ourselves, shut off from peace of mind. If you can forgive, the major benefits are to you, not the offender. Very difficult, but attainable.
Those who refuse to let it go are adamant they have a right to maintain their anger.
They justify it, thinking submission / acceptance of the injustice as a weakness.
You’re not ‘letting them off the hook’. You don’t have to forget, but you really do have to accept that the past can’t be changed.
We can only change our focus and mental reactions to it, by whatever method works best.
Carrying it around, is a heavy anchor.
Recalling past wounds is a mental anguish, digging up thoughts and feelings that should have been laid to rest a while ago. It’s precisely what Christ tried to convey in the New Testament, I believe, regardless of one’s personal beliefs about organized religion.
Since I tend to forget the lesson from T2T, I have to refer back to snippets of the lessons that have been brought to me. {I keep a lot those around, and try to re-read often}
One is a 2 page transcript from Emmet Foxs’s “Sermon On The Mount”. Harper SanFrancisco books.
In the chapter titled: “Treasure From Heaven”, Foxx has an excellent explanation of how this works. {What Christ tried to teach, about how we should think about this topic}
I can’t recommend that book strongly enough. It remains a Go-To source for understanding.
Great piece.
Neither my sister nor myself stopped by to even say hello to mom yesterday. She’s become even more bitter and bordering on lunacy since dad’s death. Neither one of us wanted to be with her. I’ll go see her today … pretend yesterday wasn’t Mother’s Day, and she will pretend likewise … and life goes on as “normal”, even though it is anything but normal. There will be few tears at her funeral.
Heya Stuck – I believe I often vainly fantasize about going out with both guns ablaze if only to avoid the nursing home. What you have been going through is difficult. I know because I’ve been there. Sometimes what I would do is to envision them as kids running on green grass, skipping rocks on the water, playing with friends, chewing on grass and looking up at the clouds, first dates, my own positive memories, and the like. In doing so, it helped me to see past any pain, death, and dark thoughts. See the Robert Frost poem above. Nothing gold can stay.
Congrats on Zero Hedge posting your article on Yemen. I enjoyed the piece and WANTED to care about Yemen enough to comment, but…. 🙂
Peace to you, my friend. Remember the rain barrel analogy and to set free any stale “water” from time to time.
Funny how when the old lady survives hubby, she turns into a witch that others just want dead. Why is that?
Depends on the family. If my MIL were widowed, I would take her in next day. If her husband became a widower, I would point out how far away from their current homestead we live.
Called my Mom yesterday (she lives on the other coast). She recognized my voice instantly, but sadly she has no concept of current reality. My stepdad passed away a couple of months ago, but she said he was fine. No reason to mention the reality; no reason to spoil the moment. She wouldn’t remember it anyhow.
I’m actually quite relieved. She has no physical ailments, not that it really matters. Alzheimer’s, dementia; call it what you want, is probably the best old age disease process you can get. It only really affects your loved ones. She might be unhappy or uncomfortable now, but in five minutes she won’t remember it. She’s actually quite content living in the current moment.
A couple of years ago, I visited the church that my parents took me to every Sunday decades ago. It too had not changed, but we have.
Thanks for bringing me back. For a moment all of today’s troubles disappeared.
I just want to thank everyone for the awesome commentary so far. Truthfully, I was half-expecting this one to be received thusly:
My Mom is in a nursing home; her wounds are slow to heal. My sister took her a cell phone, but I’m not sure she could focus on the screen enough to use it. No call in either direction yesterday, but I sent a card to my sister who delivered it. Mom probably spent this (probably last) Mother’s Day alone; it is cruel that all her children had to leave home to earn a living, but there is little in that sleepy town in middle Tennessee to employ a computer librarian, a staircase carpenter, an electrical engineer, a software consultant or a chemical engineering consultant. It just isn’t that kind of town, not anymore; my Dad was a mechanical engineer and worked at an Air Force facility next town over, but that facility is nearly shuttered and employs a skeleton force compared to the 1960s-1980s heyday.
But maybe that is some consolation to her, as she waits for the Reaper to come; her children all survived to adulthood, made lives and families of their own, and a few grandchildren resulted. Her line (and my Dad’s) continues, at this point; but the future is uncertain. The three grandchildren that came do not seem in a hurry to have great-grandchildren; life is tougher and having children less honored, less important, less likely than my Mom’s generation or mine. It is what it is.
Perhaps, one of the three grands will choose to have children, and the line will continue. It’s certainly not impossible, but neither is it guaranteed; our family may fall into oblivion, going from twelve children (maternal grandfather was 11th of 12) to none in four generations. Who counts the families? Who numbers the ranks of the worthy?
Great article, Uncola. Watch the river, and may your rivulet prosper.
Thank you Doug for another wonderful missive. A good thinking man like yourself should refrain from fantasy however. Had it been me in that church and the attackers came I would still have to go through the steps of realization, weapon deployment, clear background, and firing multiple rounds at perhaps more than one attacker, in the midst of chaos and panic. Why would anyone give evil such an advantage? On the other hand, had you been armed and in a tactical mindset your brain would have been too busy to produce such lovely thoughts. Somebody has to be “Duty Shooter.” We have only seen the beginning of attacks on soft targets.
Thank you so much for all you do.
PS: I forgot to add that even if my decision making, shot placement, and all the rest were perfect, I would still be looking at north of 50K in legal fees for my trouble.
When unarmed, the strategy was to rush them, crush their larynx, disarm them, shoot them, then pursue the other attackers if necessary; all the while striving to not to cap any of the anointed. The plan was cognitively PDR’d between the doxology and the children’s sermon. I always give the children’s sermon my full attention, because that’s when I learn the most. I’m told it’s because I am immature with healthy dose of ADHD. In truth, I just think the theology is more often on point.
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EDIT: PDR – practice, drill, rehearse
Very very nice Uncola. Unfortunately, it made me cry, but so what?
We are all living with a threat of some catastrophe about to occur,
and many of us so welcome a bit of sweet distraction.
Oh, Suzanna, don’t you cry for me.?
But, seriously, it was Plato who said: “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.”
Thank you.
I wrote a long bit and then deleted it. Will give it another go later.
here is song that went along with it..
Mountains Beyond Mountains.
Don’t you hate it when you write a really cogent response and it disappears into a TBP memory hole as soon as you press post comment? Then you have those moments when you say too much and you feel like your exposing too much and it’s not enough to edit it, you have to delete the whole thing.
Yeah except I deleted before posting. Wasn’t anything too revealing just got tired of spinning tires. Maybe it is just the change in weather around here. It has been nice these past days outside. I might post a picture of the raised beds I built on weekend. They turned out pretty good. My wife has been after me for a while to get er done. So I did it for Mothers Day. Figured it better to built something to grow flowers rather than just go to town and buy them.
Here’s one vote, encouraging you to post the pics of your efforts, RiNS.
My raised beds are cobbled together sloppy, but they’re functional.
Always on the lookout for good examples as models.
Well seeing as you asked so nice here is a picture of My Mothers Day Project. Yeah it is a bit fancy but seeing as it is next to house a good compromise to the one proposed by HSF made from old logs in a video a few weeks back.
In my defence the hemlock 2×8 s are reclaimed from a shed torn down by me a year ago. Will post pictures of the stuff that gets grown.
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Those will work just fine.
Re-purposing old wood that can still be used…I like doing the same.
There’s a sign company by my crib that gets new ones shipped in large crates.
I hauled away many 2×6’s that I used for my beds. They did just fine last 2 growing seasons for tommies, cukes, zucc’s, peps, basil, and the strawberries from which I expect a little bit better yield in this, their 3rd summer.
No pics though…too fugly…and really, just a box with dirt inside.
This year I have a few plants that sprang from seedlings I started.
I need to add some more, already started by other growers.
Good Luck w/ your planting.
Tonight, CBC has the broadcast from D.C., so I get to tune in and pull for Tampa.
Cheers, bud
Thanks….from a fan to a fan…
Well Good News. Too tired to watch the Game but see in morning box scores that the Bolts won last night!
Amazing how looking at one thing leads to so many others.
I listened to this music vid above, but lost interest, then remembered “Keep the Car Running” by
Arcade Fire, and went searching for a listen. Again. I like that one.
Surprise. Found a cover version by the Foo Fighters, who I also like, by about 4 or 5 songs.
Also makes me think of 3 Doors Down, another band that show great guitar riffs and a lead singer’s voice that’s instantly recognizable. (It’s Not My Time; Here Without You)
And, all this started after back tracking your comment to EC, and seeing his link to Styx, who I was into big time back in the late 70’s, and early 80’s.
I like a rare tune by Styx with great guitar prelude by Tommy Shaw (12-string?), and Dennis DeYoung reportedly said the lyrics in it stem from a sadness of what America once was, but is no longer. I copied the link to Suite: Madam Blue below. Be sure to read some of the comments below that music vid.
Cheers!, to you and EC, RiNS
Cudoes on the raised beds! There are a lot of inspiring folks here.
MC certainly is an inspiration, I like her educated writing. I actually learned a couple of things from her article. I would venture that the trite comments on her article are the demons pitching a fit to hear profitable teaching going on here. I do not exclude myself.
Do not give up, MC, tie us up to the mast like Ulysses so we may safely listen to your heavenly siren songs without throwing ourselves overboard.
EC
Gotta say you seem to be reading my mind.
You likely didn’t intend that but you did.
You do that a lot by the way.
If Burning Platform was a Royal Court then Sir would be the Jester. Yeah the song is kind of cheesy but does flow with something I am considering writing this weekend while I make myself scarce at home. See my Lovely Wife has some long-time friends coming from Toronto and been told to get. Not that it took much convincing. It be No Country For Old Men when best that can be hoped is sipping wine and chewing crackers with a bunch of women.
We’ll see what happens.
Planning Pancakes with Maple Syrup and bacon provided by the Good Farmer Saturday Morning. Who knows what it might inspire me to write.. failing that will at least have some pictures.
RiNS