After Two Years, It's a Tradition

This is our second year to make a pilgrimage right after Christmas to one of the barbecue destinations in Central Texas, so it must be a tradition, right?

Our merry band consisted of family and friends and extended family from Austin and distant parts,  the same as last year.  Then it was Snow's in Lexington, Texas, and this year it was Smitty's, in Lockhart--the self-styled BBQ center of the state.

There is a reason that barbecue venues are called "joints"  in Texas.  As you can see from the picture, the term "restaurant"  would never do; cafe would be inappropriate (I am sure there is no coffee served here).  Delicatessen? No way?  Bistro?  Not in a thousand years.  Smitty's is a sure-enough barbecue joint.

The first scene to greet the hungry customer is the pit (as in pit barbecue).  Never have I entered a BBQ joint by way of the fire pit--and this is a well-engineered fire pit.  As I snapped the picture I could see the draft sucking the aromatic fumes from the flaming wood into the chambers where there were hundreds of pounds of meat slowly smoking.

The next scene was a carver with one of the sharpest knives I have ever seen in action.  And indeed he did know how to use it.

Once inside, Smitty's was just about what one might expect in terms of decor --a counter to pick up beer (and cokes for the kids), and old faded posters and newspaper clippings on the wall.

The meat was good, though I definitely think it does not compare with Snow's last year.  The folks in Lockhart believe their BBQ is so good that it does not need any sauce.  I think they need a reality check on that one.  The beef brisket we had was smokey, to be sure, but a little dry.  It could have used some sauce.

Of course on exiting Smitty's, you have a feast for the eyes on this bright December day--a head-on view of the county courthouse, right on the town square--as distinctive a 19th-century courthouse as you will find in these parts.  All in all, a good day's adventure.

All is Calm...

Sammy asleep under the Christmas tree just about sums it up.  After two days of multiple church services, lots of family activities, huge festive dinners, presents galore and lots of laughing, Sammy was exhausted.  We all were.  Andrew said it best:  "no one does Christmas like our family!"

Solstice--a new year

We still have a week officially in 2009, but it has always seemed to me that the year really "ends"  on the day that darkness overwhelms the light--the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice.  That short day has come and gone, and now, slowly at first, the days will become longer.  Each day from now until June the sun will rise a little earlier, and then set a little later.

It is fitting to think about light and dark as we approach Christmas, when Jesus, the light of the world, came to share our earthly existence.  Even on that shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, it is important to recall those words in John:
         The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it.
 Thanks be to God!

New Braunfels Train Museum

Today was one of those great serendipitous days that just happen without any planning. Andrew and Mason came over for the day--an absolutely gorgeous day--so we went out without any plan just to enjoy being outside. We parked the car in downtown New Braunfels and started walking, looking at Christmas decorations, and enjoying seeing all the wonders through the eyes of a 2 1/2 year old. And then we happened onto the New Braunfels Train Museum, which was set to open in 20 minutes! So we looked all through the train station and then got into the track where an enormous steam locomotive and caboose are permanently settled. And they are open to anyone who wants to "climb aboard"! The chance encounter turned into an hour's fun, ending with the huge HO model train layout in the station itself. This is a day we will all remember!

Winter in New England

We may be out of the path of nor'easters, but we still follow the weather in New England with great interest. It appears that there is one doozie of a storm moving up the east coast--and my commiserations go out to everyone who 1) planned to shop today, or 2) planned to travel today. No gloating here--I have had too many plans ruined (or threatened) by dangerous winter storms.

Here is a seasonal photo from my stockpile to remind me of how beautiful the world can be covered by a new blanket of snow. When there is nothing to do but enjoy it, enjoy it!

By the way, did you know that you can enlarge the picture by clicking on it? I just recently learned that myself.

Garden Update

We have now had a couple of hard freezes, and the results are evident throughout the yard and garden. "Hard freeze" is a term not used much in the northern climes where we have been living. After all, when winter sets in in New England, the only question is how far down is the ground frozen? In this climate, horticultural zone 8b, whether there is a freeze, how long it lasts, and how low the thermometer goes all have a significant bearing on whether tender plants survive or die. Gardeners in these parts plant many vegetables, shrubs, and flowers that will tolerate little to no frost. It's a gamble: last year there was no killing frost; this year we have had several. We will have to wait until spring to see the effects on some of the plants that went into the ground over the past year.

I did not plant anything in the vegetable garden until the fence was erected, as there was no sense putting out a buffet for our ravenous deer population. So tomato and pepper plants went into the ground in mid October, and beet, spinach, and lettuce seeds at the same time. The hard freeze took the tomatoes and peppers (no surprise) and when I went out to transfer the dead plants to the compost pile, I was surprised to see how many peppers and tomatoes were maturing on the plants. Oh well, I knew it was a gamble.

As you can see, the seeds are doing quite well, as all of these varieties enjoy cooler weather. I am guessing that I will be able to grow these cool weather crops until about March, and then I will switch to those varieties that can handle the Texas heat.

Cranberry bog, Carver, MA

Cranberry bog, Carver, MA, originally uploaded by ch in nb.

The grocery stores are full of cranberries now, and seeing those bags full of identical rubies always reminds me of the cranberry harvest in southeastern Massachusetts. Cranberries in a bog--unlike the jewels in the grocery store--are a riot of color. Every shade of red you can imagine, from rose pink to rose purple, floats to the top of the bog as the fields are flooded. Perhaps all the garnet/rose/scarlet berries that never make it into the bags of cranberries in the stores eventually end up in bottles of juice.

Saint Lucia's Day (one day early)

We have celebrated St. Lucia’s Day (13 December) for as long as I can remember as a kind of reminder of the Swedish heritage on my side of the family. I have never really understood how the commemoration of this Italian saint (Santa Lucia) ever migrated to Sweden, a Protestant land that does not have the calendar of saints of the countries of the south, but nevertheless St. Lucy’s Day is an important part of the pre-Christmas festivities in Sweden and has been in our family for many years.

Since the feast day comes on a date close to the shortest day of the year, it is inevitably associated with light, and involves the oldest daughter of the family bringing a plate of warm buns to her family members while wearing a wreath with candles in her hair. These buns, called Lussakattor, are one of our favorite taste sensations of Christmas. If you look up Lussakattor, you will inevitably find them characterized as flavored with saffron. The recipe N has used for years, however, features cardamom. As we have lived in various places—Kansas City, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Connecticut—she has shared these delicious treats with many friends who first learned about this delightful celebration from us. We hope that there are families across the country who remember St. Lucia (and the delicious taste of her buns) from hearing about the feast day from us.

There have been many years that there were no “eldest daughter” to do the honors on the morning of 13 December in our household, but again this year we had our three eldest Austin grandchildren with us for the weekend. Hooray! That means I was awakened from a sound sleep by a beautiful little blond girl carrying candle and a warm Lussakattor. It doesn't get any better!

Winter Pastoral

Winter Pastoral, originally uploaded by ch in nb.

One of my fondest memories of New England is Cherry Brook Farm, located in North Canton. Since New England has just received its first major winter storm of the season, I return to this picture to remind me of how beautiful the winter can be. And I can also honestly say that I was glad to sell my snow shovels and snow blower last fall before we moved!

Williamstown llama

Williamstown llama, originally uploaded by Clark Hendley.

Going through my old pictures, I could not resist bringing this fellow to light once again. I made his acquaintance one late fall morning in Williamstown, Massachusetts. Truly, this is a face that only a mother could love.

Enchanted Rock

Over the Thanksgiving holiday we took our visiting children and grandchildren to Enchanted Rock, just outside Fredericksburg in the Texas Hill Country. We got started late in the day, so I feared that we would be too late for any pictures, but in fact the long golden rays of the setting sun provided perfect light for the reddish, ochre granite--and I took advantage of the beautiful photographic conditions.

Enchanted Rock is one of the oldest rock formations in Texas, and it has had human visitors for the last 11,000 years. The rock is described as a pink granite exfoliation dome, and it rises to an elevation of 425 feet and covers 640 acres. Enchanted Rock is one of the largest batholiths (an underground rock formation uncovered by erosion ) in the United States.

The name seems to derive from the weird creaking and groaning the Tonkawa Indians heard at night. Geologists today explain that what the Tonkawas heard was a result of the rock's heating by day and contracting in the cool night. A conquistador captured by the Tonkawa described how he escaped by losing himself among the boulders on the rock, giving birth to the Indian legend of "a pale man swallowed by a rock and reborn as one of their own."

The first well-documented explorations of the area date from 1723, when the Spanish intensified their efforts to colonize Texas.

Definitely worth a visit!

Weather Update

Contrary to what we might have thought last year when we moved to the Hill Country, this region does have an autumn. In fact, we have been experiencing autumn for the past few weeks--warm days, cool nights, and insects very busy as if they could sense the coming of winter. And even autumn color! We do not see the abundance of red that we loved so much in New England, but in fact deciduous trees have been changing colors, just like they are supposed to. All of these signs in nature are a reminder that last year with its oppressive drought was an anomaly.

Now, with two plus weeks to go of the season of autumn on the calendar, the weather has turned cold, and we are already experiencing more chill than all of last winter after moving from Connecticut. The most recent storm actually dumped snow on Houston--and that is a rarity! Much to the disappointment of school children in our area, there was no snow here, but the unusual precipitation did make garner a story on the NBC nightly news tonight.

Right now I am so glad that I did not throw out all my winter woolens when I moved south!

22 November

Until my generation dies out completely, all of us I trust will come to this date--22 November--and remember where we were in 1963 when President Kennedy was slain. There are fewer of us each year, I guess, for only a few years ago newspapers would carry human interest stories on this fateful day interviewing ordinary people about their memories. Now reporters and editors are by and large too young to have been spectators of the events of that year themselves, so the date now passes almost unnoticed. Except by those who lived through that nightmare.

I was studying at the University of Vienna. My roommate and I rented a room from a Viennese "hausfrau," who regularly took in students to help with the rent. Along with the rent of the room came daily breakfast, which she brought in on a tray each morning. Before she entered the room, she sounded a warning gong--placed strategically outside the door--to announce her arrival. That morning she rushed into the room, where Phil and I were still blissfully dozing, and yelled, "Der Präsident ist tot!" (the president is dead). She did not say your president or the American president but the president. In a way, the choice of language was very important, for in the days and weeks that followed, we learned that this young, dynamic leader was indeed thought of as the president. It was my first understanding of how the rest of the world views the American president.

These were the days before instant 24/7 news. There were no satellites in the sky to broadcast words and pictures around the world. Film was loaded on a plane and sent abroad and then shown to international television audiences. So we waited for information--for hours and for days. Yes, the Austrian radio and television were providing audio coverage of the events, but I had been in Austria a short enough time that following radio news readers was a bit beyond my linguistic capabilities.

Vienna was as stunned as if an Austrian leader had been assassinated. We wandered the streets looking for news updates that we could understand. When people learned that we were Americans, they freely came up to us on the street to express their condolences. The Vienna Philharmonic gave a public concert that featured only the slow dirge-like movement from Beethoven's Third Symphony. I have never heard that movement since without recalling the somber performance in those sad days following the assassination.

Many shops in Vienna placed a photograph of President Kennedy in the window--a well-known portrait of the president, with a black crepe band stretched across the upper right-hand corner of the picture. I have searched the internet to find a copy of that picture which is still so fresh in my mind's eye, but to no avail. 22 November 1963. RIP, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

So How German is New Braunfels, Anyway?

In a word, a lot.

Yesterday's edition of the New Braunfels Herald Zeitung announced that this weekend the city was sponsoring its annual Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas fair) with the headline "Weihnachtsmarkt ist Hier" (the Christmas market is here). The New Braunfels Weihnachtsmarkt is as close to a Christkindlmarkt (Christ Child Market) as anything one would expect to see out of Germany, Austria, or Switzerland. How do I know? We went to check it out. The pictures will give some idea of what it was like. It may not be Thanksgiving yet, and it may not be frigid outside, but the Weihnachtsmarkt ushered in the season!

A Visitor to our Backyard

A couple of days ago N. called me to take a look at a "visitor" in our backyard. I grabbed my camera to document the event. Usually we see only does and fawns; a couple of times there has been a young buck, but this was the first appearance of this trophy buck. Hard to believe he would so casually graze out in the open--after all, hunting season has begun!

Doing the Texas Thang

We had visitors from Connecticut (Sue and Kim from N's running group) and they got the full Central Texas tour--the Hill Country, Austin, San Antonio (including a chance to spectate at the Rock 'n Roll Marathon), the outlet mall (of course) and, the piece de resistance, Gruene Hall. There is no place to view and participate in Texas culture quite like Gruene Hall. The occasion was a concert by Tanya Tucker, and my only question is when will we cease having the tune "Delta Dawn" running through our heads? A night to remember!

Discovering a "new" poem

One of the most satisfying aspects of spending a life in the study of literature is to happen onto something profoundly moving for the first time. This experience occurred again for me recently when I came across the sonnet "Since there's no help" by Michael Drayton (1563-1631). If I had ever encountered Drayton's poem, I do not remember--but what a joy to discover it now.

SINCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part;

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,

And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart

That thus so cleanly I can free;

Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain.

Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,

When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,

When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And Innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.

I hope the poem gives others as much pleasure as it gave me.

Ft. Hood Tragedy

Ft. Hood is just up the road from us, so the tragedy at Ft. Hood is a local story in addition to being a national story. I was at a workshop this past weekend, and on Friday night we were asked to pray for the victims and for their families and fellow workers. Driving home that night I realized that we missed a real opportunity to pray for others affected by this senseless violence--the tortured soul who caused it (who lies in a hospital in San Antonio) and the American Muslim community, who are bound to be in some way implicated by those who jump to conclusions at times such as this. On Saturday at the concluding Eucharist, the participants joined their voices to pray for all affected by this tragedy--either immediately or in the days and weeks to come.

Universal Studios

Was every famous movie made at Universal? It sure seems like it! On the tour of the back lot we saw the sets for so many movies that I can't remember them all--"Earthquake," "How the Grinch Stole Christmas,"
"Psycho," "Jaws"--the list goes on and on. And then we finished off the day at a taping of "The Tonight Show"! Who ever knew that Conan O'Brien sings to the audience after the taping ends? What a fun day!

A Very Special Baptism

Today--the Feast of All Saints--we watched as our twin infant granddaughters were baptized into the communion of the faithful. It was a glorious morning in southern California, and the smiles inside St. Michael and all Angels were the equal of the sun outside on this bright fall day. And the girls (resplendent in their Laura Ashley christening gowns) behaved perfectly. This grandfather was so proud he felt like he was going to burst!

Halloween in California

We are in California for the baptism of our newest family members--our twin granddaughters.  But the first order of business was Halloween--for the benefit of one little angel and two little pumpkins.  The guys had scouted out the best place to go for a real Halloween experience--Torluca Lake, a neighborhood not far from their Hollywood home.  This is the area that had estates at one time (Fred Astaire, Bob Hope) but now the area is more modest (by California standards) and is home to the Jonas brothers, Miley Cyrus, and perhaps others.  I have seen plenty of Halloween decorations in my day, but I have never seen anything to rival the displays in Torluca Lake.  A Halloween to remember!

Wurstfest

Tonight was the opening night of "Wurstfest," New Braunfels' largest and most extravagant celebration of its German heritage. After living here for almost a year--and after having passed the "Wursthalle" in Landa Park on our way to swim many times over the past few months--we were really psyched to see Wurstfest at first hand. We were not disappointed. This annual celebration has now become the third-largest festival in Texas--after the State Fair in Dallas and Fiesta in San Antonio. Pretty good for little New Braunfels!

There are two cultural foci of Wurstfest--food and music. There were three German bands playing simultaneously in three different venues on the grounds and there were almost as many kinds of beer and sausage as you would find in Munich. The actual Wursthalle itself looks a lot like the Hofbrau Haus--no coincidence, I am sure.

We will definitely return for more of the "culture" during the ten-day run of Wurstfest.

Is the Drought Over?

The month of October is almost past, and a recent weather report (out of San Antonio) makes me wonder if our drought is over. So far in the month 11.9" of rain have fallen in San Antonio, so the total must be similar for us, 40 miles to the north. Does this mean our drought is over? We are now officially 1 inch short for the year. Last year at this time the region was 19 inches shy of the average rainfall! When we moved to this area, just a year ago November, everything was brown. Today everything is green, the rivers are flowing, and Canyon Lake is rapidly filling. Please let the life-giving rains continue!

It is officially fall--not by the calendar, but by the weather. We have had nights in the 50s (and even a couple of 40s) and daytime temperatures are usually in the 70s. Absolutely beautiful!

The critter pictured above effectively finished off my last cleome plant. I let him munch, since he was so accommodating as to pose for my pictures.

Texas Clay Festival

This past weekend was the famous "Texas Clay Festival," a ceramics fair and sale originated several years ago by local potters. Well known ceramic artists from throughout Texas are invited to attend and display their wares. I've always wanted to attend the Texas Clay Festival, and now I am located only five minutes away from the big event. My brother is invited to participate each year, and, owing to a recent accident, he needed help setting up the display and also manning the booth. N. and I along with friends Randy and Barbara from East Texas were a part of the event from set up to tear down. Now I know a lot more about the pottery business than ever before. (Hint: it is a lot of work!)

The weather was beautiful--bright blue skies, cool, crisp temperatures, and the crowds were impressive on both days. The pictures will give some idea of the fun atmosphere. I am already looking forward to next year!

Veggies all year round

It seems with the start of the semester (and a batch of essays to grade) plus a new, enclosed vegetable garden, that it has been hard to blog. The picture will show where I have been spending my "outdoors" time.

With vigilance, we can (usually) keep the deer away from the area around the house. Of course it helps right now that there is a bountiful supply of acorns. With acorns, they don't need to bother my hibiscus or impatiens.

The "back 40" is another story. Our long, deep lot has plenty of trails with tell tale cloven hoof marks. The deer march back and forth across the back of the yard with impunity. The only way to have a vegetable garden is to enclose it--and that is just what we have done. The fence is over eight feet high, as locals tell me that deer can make it over a six foot fence. I am told that eight feet is high enough. Time will tell.

In the meantime, fall, winter, and spring are ideal times to grow a lot of vegetables. Summers like the one we just experienced are too hot for many crops and certainly too hot for this gardener. The other three seasons, on the other hand, are promising.

The raised beds are an admission that the shallow soil here is not conducive to a lot of vegetable varieties, so we have been making compost ever since we arrived in Central Texas--enough now, when mixed with topsoil, to fill these two eight foot beds. There are tomatoes and peppers growing, and beet, carrot, and basil seeds sprouting. When the weather gets cooler we will switch to lettuce and spinach.

We will continue to construct some raised beds and add fruit trees in the spring. Now, if there were only a closer source for water....

Is Civility Dead?

To quote a famous phrase from American history: have you no shame? Indeed. Are shame and embarrassment a thing of the past? Is civility dead?

First we have the embarrassment of a Congressman calling the President of the United States a liar on the floor of the House of Representatives! And immediately people start sending him money for his re-election campaign. What was he thinking? What is the American public thinking?

Then we have the spectacle of Serena Williams' meltdown at the US Open. Tennis is one of the last really civil sports left--in spite of Illie Nastase and John McEnroe back in their bad-boy days. Even McEnroe--a notorious hothead--never said what Williams said to the line judge. And never threatened anyone physically. What was she thinking?

And then there is the example of the small-time entertainer Kanye West, giving an award at the VMA awards ceremony to a very young Taylor Swift. As she is starting to make an acceptance speech, West grabs the microphone back and tells her that she really was not the best, and someone else should have been the winner. West might not have been embarrassed by his own rudeness, but judging by the audience's reaction, a lot of others were. The only good thing about the last example is that few people watch the VMA awards. Of course today almost everyone looks at youtube.

Once a nation starts down this path of incivility, I don't know how the course can be reversed.

Texas Football

Let's see, it has been--how many years since I last saw a University of Texas football game? A lot of years! So I jumped at the chance to attend the home opener on Saturday. Things have changed, and that is an understatement. Texas football was always over the top (can you picture a stadium with everyone wearing burnt orange?) but now it is way over the top. When I last attended a Texas football game, the coach was Darrell Royal. Now Memorial Stadium is named after Darrel Royal. The stadium was big before (and always filled). Now it is gargantuan, and I believe I heard that the attendance at the game on Saturday was the largest crowd ever to attend a football game in the Southwest (101,000). The pageantry starts before the game and just keeps on coming. And Colt McCoy, the Heisman candidate, already looks to be in mid-season form. What an experience--to return to the campus where I did research in the rare books library and see a spectacle like this. Oh yes--a victory: 59-20.

The Times, They Are A'Changing

Gasoline at $2.39 per gallon today.

And--high temperature today? 86 degrees Fahrenheit!

All the indicators are leading in the right direction!

A new Academic Year

It's a new academic year--which prompts me to wonder how long have I been doing this? Do we go back to the first teaching job after my MA or do we start with the first teaching job after the Ph.D.? Or should we start earlier? First grade?

Regardless, I've been experiencing this feeling for a long time--some excitement, some nervousness, and some dread. Some disappointment that summer is over (regardless what the thermometer says) and some excitement about the coming of fall. Some anticipation and some sense that there is a lot of work ahead.

Two courses this semester--half time! Some retirement!

News Flash! Julia is Number 1!

Almost 50 years after its publication, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, the weighty compendium of French recipes with its recommendation of butter, butter, more butter! will be Number 1 on the New York Times bestseller list. Have Americans just discovered Julia Child? No, in fact, Americans of my generation have had a love affair with Julia ever since her first cooking show (in black and white) on public television. A new generation, however, have discovered Julia, thanks to the new film "Julie and Julia." It seems that people leaving the theater make a detour to the bookstore to get a copy of the book for themselves so they can have their own experiment with Julia's recipes.

The question is--do they know what they are getting into? This is the age of 20 minute meals and wacko diets--with everyone weighing in on the harmful effects of butter. Julia Childs never met a pound of butter that she could not find some use for. Take for example this direction in the recipe for Navets à la Champenoise: "sauté the bacon in the butter for several minutes...." Bacon sautéed in butter--now that is a dish from another age.

Regardless, it is very satisfying to see Julia Childs get the recognition she deserves. And it is further testimony to the abilities of Meryl Streep--she can not only fit into any role that she performs, but she can sell cookbooks as well!

Hello! And who are you?

This is a real-time post. It is Wednesday, 26 August 2009. Currently it is 102 degrees Fahrenheit at 4:00 pm. This is the kind of heat that makes it rather difficult to breathe as the sizzling air comes into you lungs.

For some time now we have been able to water our lawns only once each week, and that for only a short amount of time. One watering a week is not enough to keep the grass green, so the brown spots on the lawn increase daily.

I just returned from taking Sammie the dog outside (at his request--I had no interest in going outdoors in this heat. ) And what do I see bravely standing erect in the grass? This tiny white flower. I placed the Marks-a-lot in the picture so you would have some idea of the size of the plant and its blossom. What is it? Where did it come from? Why are there not more of them? How could it have the courage to bloom now on this miserable day? But since it did, the day is no longer so miserable!

Last night while watching television I was going through the catalogs of spring bulbs, wondering what I could order that would bloom in this zone (zone 8) and not be consumed by deer. This little flower looks like so many of the spring bulbs I was looking at! One thing I know for sure: it is not a spring bulb, blooming out of season. Not in this heat!

Inglourious Basterds

Ever since World War II began to slip from current events to history, there have been films about every aspect of that war--the European front, the Pacific front, the convoluted politics about the Allies (and the Axis), the morality of this war, and, of course, the death camps. Some of the films were immediate classics--"Judgment at Nürenberg," "Schindler's List," for example. Some were immediately controversial--"La Vida è Bella" (a humorous treatment of concentration camps?) And now comes Quentin Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds," and the critics don't know what to do with it.

"Inglourious Basterds" is vintage Tarantino--campy, comic, and full of violence. This is not Spielberg! The film defies easy pigeonholing. Is Tarantino saying the Americans were no better than the Nazis? Is he saying that Jews were not always victims but as sadistic as their National Socialist tormenters? Is he serious? Or is this all a big spoof?

It may be that the critics do not want to admit the truth before their faces. We live in a post-Vietnam age. This is a post My Lai film. We have experienced Abu Graib. Blackwater is still in business; it still has contracts with the CIA. Extraordinary rendition? Waterboarding? These are a reality. So now we should be shocked at a film showing Brad Pitt demanding the scalps of Nazi soldiers?

"Inglourious Basterds" breaks the 2 hour rule, and some critics complain it is too long. It has a leisurely pace in scenes that are then followed by shocking violence. I don't know that I remember a film that built suspense so artfully. Did this film drag? Never for a moment. The opening scene (in a French farmhouse) was one of the best scenes of its type I have ever seen.

Will everyone like this film? Not by a long shot? Will Hollywood like it? Will it make tons of money for Universal? I can't predict, so I will wait and see. I know one thing: it is a film I will not forget.

Butterflies Again

I am still thinking about butterflies--probably because we associate butterflies with new life, and we have these wonderful new babies in our lives.

I have heard a lot of homilies in my life, and I must confess that I do not remember most of them. One I do vividly remember I heard when I was in graduate school, and I even remember the title of the homily: "Something Happens to a Butterfly When it Struggles." The sermon included the story of a child who watched with great impatience a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. As he watched the frail-looking insect with its wet wings struggle to emerge into its new life, he decided to give the butterfly some help, and he peeled back part of the cocoon to allow the butterfly to escape. The butterfly did emerge from its cocoon, but it was limp and listless, and it died soon after. The child was crushed that the beautiful insect did not live.

But, you see, something happens to a butterfly when it struggles. The struggle to break free from the cocoon allows the butterfly to gain strength and endurance as it uses new muscles. It is a battle the insect must do on its own. Helping the butterfly emerge prematurely in fact guarantees that the butterfly will not survive.

So the question we face as parents watching our children emerge from their cocoons is when do we need to allow them to struggle on their own, knowing that in that struggle strength will be gained that will equip them for struggles all through life.

Yes, even the frail-looking ethereal butterflies have much to teach us about life.

New Life

All I can think about at present is the addition of two new members of our family. Our son in California and his partner just adopted twin infant girls, who are now the ripe old age of 4 days. Everything happened very fast--from the call asking them if they wanted these precious babies to their trip to Tracy, California during the night, to their return to Los Angeles. Thanks to Facebook, cell phones, and text messaging we were able to keep abreast of events as they unfolded. We had already scheduled a dinner party for 9 people from our church for Saturday evening. We were so preoccupied with unfolding events on the west coast that it is amazing the dinner went off without a hitch. No--not amazing. The amazing part is my super-organized wife--always on top of things! These are our 17th and 18th grandchildren!

The Rest of the Story

That's the way the late Paul Harvey used to announce the news: he would tell "the rest of the story." Well, here is the rest of the story of the caterpillars who obliterated my rue plant earlier in the summer.

I looked out of our bedroom to the berm and spotted several very active butterflies--enjoying the big, blue spikey plant (whose name I do not know). I grabbed the camera and snapped away--confident that the helpful Audubon guide would in fact "guide" me to an identification (The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Butterflies). Sure enough, these were giant swallowtails--the "rest of the story" of the caterpillars. The Audubon guide offers explicit (though at times unscientific) identification hints. This caterpillar is described as "brown or olive, resembling large bird dropping, with dirty buff patches and saddles and usually red scent horns." Oh yes, and it feeds on rue. What is most amazing is the camouflage that nature has given the caterpillar so that it looks as unappetizing to potential predators (bird dropping?) as possible.

I guess I don't mind sacrificing my rue to have these magnificent butterflies in my garden. Note for next year's garden: buy some rue pants.

They Said it Couldn't be Done

When these "master gardeners" moved from Connecticut to Central Texas, some of our friends lamented that gardening would be impossible in the new, harsh environment. Well, here is our berm--installed in January after we had been here a little over a month. It is now August, and I think it is going to last.

The berm was designed to give us a little privacy. Our neighbors are great, but the houses are somewhat closer together than we were accustomed to in Canton. As you can see, it has filled in well, and there are still lots of spots to tuck in other plants in the months to come that tolerate drought conditions and that are not delectable to deer.