Thursday, October 20, 2011

KANSAS COLORS...SORT OF

While there is no way a person would ever mistake Kansas in the fall for New England, it was still impressive to see the colors that did exist in north-central Kansas...Concordia, to be specific.  The leaves were falling like rain when we arrived, and I always love to see them nearly covering the green grass.

I know...it's a bit of a messy scene, but I thought it looked atmospheric.  Especially as compared to our rock yard in SCG which doesn't change much with the seasons.  Besides, those aren't my leaves and I don't have to rake them.

The trouble with Kansas is that many of the leaves turn brown and drop before they make it to  red or yellow. That's how you know you're in Kansas...well, that, and hellish wind every day. 

I've always loved this house in Concordia and was excited that it was particularly leafy.

Up close and personal.  Fall is gorgeous and this is about as good as it gets in the Jayhawk State. 

Monday, October 17, 2011

BIG 12 FOOTBALL

We're just completing our obligatory annual trip to the midwest for the obligatory annual Kansas State football game.  We carefully packed all of our K-State purple clothing.  We received our schedule for all festivities surrounding THE GAME.  We reviewed weather forecasts every day--twice a day--and it looked as if we would enjoy mostly sunny skies and balmy temps of 80 degrees.   Sounds good to this Arizona transplant.

Whoa...Saturday dawned gloomy and threatening, windy and damp.


Grill, Dennis, Grill.  It's going to rain!


Pose, family, pose.  Before you get wet!


Play, boys, play. Don't waste time!   


Chat family, chat.  Two hours to game time!


Practice, team, practice.  Beat Missouri.


Strut, Classy Cats, strut.  Show your stuff.


Toot band, toot.  Give us all you've got.


Get 'em, boys, get'em.  Beat those tigers.


Sit down, fans, sit down.  The short girl can't see.

  CELEBRATE K-STATE, CELEBRATE!
K-STATE 24--MISSOURI 17

Thursday, October 13, 2011

TREASURE

"Please bring something you treasure and give a brief presentation to the group about its history and why it is so special to you," read the recent e-mail announcing the monthly meeting for a women's group I belong to.  All right, I thought tentatively...so what do I treasure?  Really, really treasure.  Well, my family and friends, of course.  Never take them for granted.  Our church, education, great food (oh, who am I kidding...any food will do), travel, the Phoenix Symphony, quiet conversations.  There are so many things...

But, what do I treasure that will fit in a sack and symbolize what "treasure" really means?  The first thing to pop into my mind was TEDDY!

Please say "hello" to Teddy.

Teddy is the same age I am and, consequently, Teddy has seen better days.  His incarnation occurred in that long ago time before seat belts, car seats, and governmental restrictions on toys and their various parts.  For Teddy had real eyes at one time.  I'm not sure if they were sewn, glued or hooked on, but they were missing by the time Teddy turned three.  Now he has little brown eyes made of darning thread sewn on in the late 1940s.  Teddy had a nose of very stiff material that had been glued on.  A tiny remnant remains.  I remember a red tongue, again glued on felt fabric.  And, much to my surprise, the old pictures look as if he might have had whiskers--I think I can see a half set of whiskers when he turned three.  Teddy was also furry, but I pulled most of it off.  I'm not sure if I ate it or stuffed it up my nose, but it's been gone for years.  Teddy's obviously a survivor, and that makes Teddy a treasure.



Teddy loved birthday parties.  Teddy and I turned three on the same day.  We began Kindergarten shortly before we turned five, only Teddy wasn't allowed to go.  He had to stay at home sitting on my bed, waiting all afternoon until I could come back to tell him about my day, show him my papers, and talk about my new friends.  Teddy and I were Freshmen in High School together, but I was by myself when I walked into that huge building on the first morning, while Teddy waited at home to learn what high school was all about.  Teddy was the first to know about the cute boy in the second row, and my cheerleader tryout, and my best friend...and soak up my tears when the cute boy never noticed me and I wasn't chosen for the cheerleading squad...that year.  I thought Teddy would go to college with me, but my Mom and Dad said he couldn't.  It was time for Teddy to stay home and for me to venture out on my own.  I think Teddy even cried that night.  Teddy has a huge and non-judgmental heart and that makes Teddy a treasure. 




As soon as I graduated from college, I had an apartment of my own.  It was wonderful, even if the bathroom was across the hall and shared with the couple next door who rented only a bedroom from the homeowners.  Teddy moved in immediately and was always waiting as I shared this new life with him.  I was a first year fourth-grade teacher who learned much more than the twenty-plus kids in my room.  Teddy consoled me on bad days and rejoiced with me on good ones.  Teddy was there, ready to listen or remaining content even when I sometimes forgot him.  Teddy is a faithful and patient bear and that makes Teddy a treasure. 



Teddy has played second fiddle to two husbands and tug-of-war among four children.  He's survived seven dogs and two cats.  He's lived in Kansas, Nebraska, Minnesota, Kansas again, and now Arizona.  Teddy has relaxed on beds, sat in chairs, balanced on shelves, and waited months in moving boxes.  Teddy's a trooper of a bear and that makes Teddy a treasure. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

TAKE AWAYS FROM IRELAND

Sadly, the time has come to board our plane and fly back into our real world.  We've spent nineteen days on the road, we're out of clean clothes; and my little dabs of make-up, carefully squeezed into tiny containers, are nearly exhausted.  So...what did we learn?

1:  Brita water bottles are wonderful.  Believe the ads...they are correct!  Fill them with water from anywhere (don't ask) and it tastes great.  Our one dramatic test occurred at our B&B in Kenmare where the water was saturated with iron (per BC) and tasted really awful.  I filled up the Brita bottle and, the next morning? Voila!  Good water!  Not to be irreverent, but kind of like a miracle. 

2:  Do not complain if your rental car is covered in scratches, scrapes and dents.  Your rental agency, thieves though they may be, have done you a huge favor.  Be sure they have marked the damage diagram thoroughly, and then relax.  Bounce off a curb?  If you're OK, they're OK.  Skim a furze bush?  No problem.  Lightly scrape the corner of a wall?  It's nothing.  Drive and enjoy!

3:  Pop for an automatic transmission in your rental car.  Even my most frugal second son-in-law recommended this, but we ignored him.  We wanted the full experience.  It's not that we couldn't handle the full experience...well, let me re-phrase that.  It may be possible that I couldn't handle the full experience quite as well as I thought.  I had no idea how long a burning clutch could smell.

4:  Guinness really is better in Ireland.  Don't be afraid to try it.  Try it more than once, because it takes at least twice. 


5:  Buy a "Heritage Card".  It can pay for itself in one day if you get up early.  We were truly impressed with it.  No hassle to buy, no hassle to use and free entry to 96 sites.  The "Heritage Island Explorer Touring Guide" (as you can probably tell from that title) isn't nearly as convenient to carry or use, but it will also pay for itself relatively quickly.

6:  Rick Steves is a godsend.  I know I might have been a bit snarky about a few of his comments, but he led us from B&B to B&B with no false steps in the process.  He enriched our trip, he took us places we might not otherwise find, and we're forever grateful.  Thank you, Rick!  (Or as BC would say--he has a terrible time with names--Thank you, Steve.)   

7:  This is a stretch, but it's a fact that if anything stands still long enough in Ireland, something green will grow on it.  Actually, I mention this only because I've been hoping to use this photo and it's my last chance.



8:  I'm a bit of an introvert married to the quintessential extrovert, so I questioned the B&B plan much more than BC did.  Well, what I've written is honest.  I thoroughly enjoyed each host family and truly hated to leave each time we moved on.  The experience definitely enriched our trip.

9:  It was interesting how closely our world is aligned.  Bank bail-outs?  Ireland's been there.  Real estate bubble?  Ireland's been there.  Half empty housing developments?  Ireland has them everywhere--especially in the "holiday" house market.  Banks not lending?  Ireland's there.  Unemployment high?  Ireland's there.  The U.S. and western Europe are so closely tied together--we may not speak the same languages, but we experience the same economic woes.

10:  Throwing away a scheduled itinerary (except for arrival and departure days) was a wonderful way to see and experience Ireland.  We had decided early on that if we didn't make a full circuit of the island because of pausing here and there for an unexpected site or event, it was OK.  And indeed it was more than OK...I think it was close to serendipity.



11:  Aer Lingus still has small hard seats and charges for wine in steerage.  But they are spit and polished, attractive, blonde, wrinkle-free and constantly at your elbow with tea. It's all good.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

BRU NA BOINNE

We'll be driving to another site this morning that I can't pronounce, Bru na Boinne, but Rick Steves has given it three triangles (high praise) and it's on our way to the Dublin airport--more or less.  We followed a winding route to get to the site and, only after a little coaxing and reassurance from a helpful shopkeeper explaining that Bru na Boinne might be called Newgrange on selected road signs, we discovered we weren't nearly as lost as we had feared.  Indeed--we had actually passed the Visitor's Center and Museum two miles back.  Perhaps it's just as well this is our last day.

Bru na Boinne is the name given to a large archeological site that contains two main areas of interest.  One center is named Knowth and the other, Newgrange.  The Visitor's Center schedules the tours and we were to visit Knowth first.



The area known as Knowth  contains one extremely large burial mound surrounded by seventeen smaller mounds.  The placement of the mounds feels haphazard but, from the air (we are told), follow a recognizable pattern. Knowth was a busy area from 3000 to 2000 BCE, then fell into disuse.  Around 1000 CE, a fortress was built on the site and it became a political center.  The photo above is just a portion of the large mound.  Visitors aren't allowed inside this mound, but the OPW has cut out a chamber near an entry to show visitors how it might have been built. We were able to duck through a door into a small room that highlighted construction details and contained pictures and maps of Knowth's excavation.

This mound was built so that, at the spring and fall equinoxes, the rising sun would shine into a passage lighting a burial chamber.  The mound has shifted over time (5000 years or so) and the earth itself has moved slightly on its axis, so the alignment isn't perfect as it would have been originally.


As we left the small chamber, we could peek down this closed passage in the mound.



Our guide led us around the outside of the large mound, adding historical details to her earlier talk, pointing out interesting artifacts and finally leading us to the top of the burial chamber.  We enjoyed a full 360 degree view that, from our height, stretched miles into Ireland.



After our hike to the top, we wandered the site.  The photo above is of one of the kerbstones--the huge stones that surrounded and supported the large mound.  Most kerbstones had some type of carving on them.



This little mound is one of the smaller, probably less important mounds.  I didn't hear speculation as to which class of people might have been buried here.   

After returning to the Visitor's Center, we quickly boarded a second bus for the drive to Newgrange.  Newgrange is reported to date from 3200 BCE, but because of its extensive restoration seems to resemble a modern sparkly basketball arena.



These glistening stones are quartz or quartz-like and were a complete surprise to me.  I had never seen a mound that wasn't grass covered--which this one is, except for the huge curving side that first meets the sunrise every morning.  (I've just picked up Edward Rutherford's 2004 novel, The Princes of Ireland, and within the first few pages he has described Newgrange beautifully.) 

In contrast to Knowth, visitors do enter this chamber from the east (sparkly) side through a smallish passage that requires some bending, a bit of stooping and an occasional "sucking it in."  The passage leads to the actual burial chamber, although that's a bit of a misnomer.  The chamber isn't large...the twenty of us filled it.  I understand that the persons "buried" here had actually been cremated earlier, with their bones and ashes deposited here in anticipation of the winter solstice.  We stood, quietly awestruck, if not a bit nervously, under hundreds of thousands of tons of stone work from 5000 years ago.  Our guide pointed out the intricacy of the work...again, dry laid stones transported from miles away, chiseled and placed with absolute precision.  There was only one way in (and the same way out) to this chamber.  On the morning of the shortest day of the year, as the sun rose, its light would slowly creep up the passageway we had just traversed, then spread through this chamber for a matter of minutes.  Some historians believe that, at this magical moment, the souls of those whose remains lay here, would be taken into the afterlife. 

The tour guides re-enact this winter solstice event and it is unforgettable.  The guide has placed us on either side of the chamber, then turned out the light.  Because the entry passage actually rises as it extends into the mound, no outside light enters the chamber. Talk about dark as the grave!  Then oh, so slowly, a faint light begins to creep up the center of the passageway growing brighter as it grows closer. Finally, it penetrates our chamber and our relief--never expressed--is palpable. 

I'm a simple person and I never cease to marvel at the world that existed before us.  The sophistication, the astronomical and computational skills that were exhibited over this planet thousands of years ago and create such wonder in us...Well, it makes my worries about finding the motorway to Dublin Airport look pretty plebian.

Monday, October 3, 2011

TARA AND FISH

Bruce will fish this afternoon, so we plan to drive to the Hill of Tara this morning.  We're in the Valley of the Boyne, which is literally scattered with ruins pre-dating the Egyptian pyramids.  We won't see them all, and we certainly won't understand all that we see, but we're going anyway.

The Hill of Tara is one of those places that's really much better seen and appreciated from a slow flying airplane about 1000 or so feet above ground.  From the ground, it's thick grass, uneven terrain, abrupt hills and valleys.  If a site wasn't marked and explained, a neophyte wouldn't have a clue.



It's a picture in need of a story...I'll make it brief.  This was traditionally, or mythically, or historically (take your pick) the area which served as the seat of the High King of Ireland for centuries.  Ireland apparently abounded in kings, but out of that group one High King was chosen and he was ruler of the land.  The King was crowned near a stone pillar which (yes, the stone pillar) roared three times if the King was a true King by fulfilling the requisite three challenges.  The roar could be heard across all of Ireland.    Scattered over this hill are burial mounds and other formations still being studied.  Despite the on-going evolution of thought, Tara has always been (and continues to be) a gathering place for political and religious movements.   This hill is an evocative site, atmospheric and spiritual when you pause to reflect on the prayers, incantations, hopes, dreams and hearts that have flown heavenward from this grassy place.
    


Yes, it's Saint Patrick again.  He is also associated with the Hill of Tara.  It was here that St. Patrick confronted Ireland's High King of the time--obviously a pagan--and explained the Holy Trinity to him using a three-leaf shamrock.  The King was so impressed, he gave St. Patrick the right to preach throughout his Kingdom and the folk flocked to Christianity.

We hurried back to Trim and our home away from home--Cranmor--in order for BC to prepare for the fishing expedition.  He's waited nearly three weeks for this and he is oh, so ready to go.


BC and Marc O'Regan--our B&B host and Fishing Guide

While BC and Marc fished, I relished the atmosphere of Cranmor and it's lovely surroundings.  Anne, our hostess, is an outgoing, comfortable woman often surrounded by grandchildren who are absolutely thrilled to be with her.  She asked me to join her for coffee and conversation in her large, homey kitchen and  we had a wonderful afternoon...I felt like I'd known her for years.


Cranmor


Cranmor's Front Garden.

But now to the really important happenings of the day.  BC, trout and the River Boyne.  Fortunately, the fishing was successful and Marc forwarded these pictures to us.

He's got him!

Here is one happy boy!
(Lest you fear for the fish, BC is a catch and release kind of guy.)