Just Folks at Mount Vernon

 

Back to Front

This side of Mount Vernon faces west (the camera is looking south.)  In the summer it would be a marvelous place to start the day, and, with the open air arched passageways on either side, the river breezes would pretty much keep it comfortable all day long.  It would really be quite something to live here even now!

This riverside view I suspect is what most people see and consider to be the front.  I suppose it depends on whether you arrive by land or by "sea."  And, yes, ocean-going vessels could come this far upriver because it is still tidal waters (meaning the level of the river rises and falls daily with the ocean tides.)  The high piazza provides shade for the second floor windows and encourages excellent breezes from the river to flow through both upstairs and downstairs passages.  The shutters downstairs are solid wood (for safety and to block winter winds off of the Potomac), but Washington had louvered wooden blinds to provide privacy yet allow ventilation during summer months.  These things and the draft caused by the cupola would have this place cool as a cucumber!

Anyone traveling north to south or south to north were welcomed at Mount Vernon for overnight stays or several nights at a time.  It's said that 2/3rds of the time Mount Vernon housed guests - total strangers a lot of the time.  Can you IMAGINE!?!

In the photo, on the left, notice the gentleman in the powder blue knee-length coat.  He's a costumed interpreter behaving and speaking totally in character.  Any questions asked will be answered as though it was still the late 1700's.  How fun!

A Riding Chair

Ya' think you've seen it all - or at least read about it - but here's yet another new one on me:  a Riding Chair.

The one in the foreground is a modern reproduction, but the one behind it is actually from the 1700's.  See how enormous the wheels are?  All the better to roll across rutted dirt roads and maybe places that don't even resemble roads.  I suppose the other advantages would be having a back on the chair to relax against, and it was only two-wheeled and would be much easier to navigate down twisty-turning paths.  I wonder how long it would take me to train our horses to pull one of these?  Riding chairs were also popular back then because they were certainly cheaper than 4-wheeled chariots or coaches - like the one we might all associate with George Washington.

 

The replica riding chair is a result of the skill of colonial vehicle body specialist Chris Wright who could be found in a shop at the Governor's Palace coach house in the Historic Area of Williamsburg, Virginia.  

In the first photo, notice the sleigh in the very back.  That would be fun, too.

Living In The Moment

Granpa and I were talking on the way to work this morning.  I opined that this medical traveling we're doing forces us to live in the moment, as they say.  We know our time anywhere is limited by the contract dates, so we only have "x" amount of time to discover interesting history in that location.  Time and again, people who live there say they haven't been to these places that are in their own back yard.

Granpa said that people who don't have short contract jobs live in a cocoon of certainty.  They begin to believe it's a cocoon of their own creation, and they tend to forget that it all comes from the Lord.  We, on the other hand, are very aware that God is in control of our lives.  We never know where the next contract will be, whether it will be extended for weeks or months or even a year - or even if there will BE a next contract!  We never know what our housing will be like, what we'll have in the way of cooking utensils, what bed we'll have, what chairs we'll have to sit in...  We don't know if we will have to fly or drive to the next location.  We take nothing for granted.

Conclusion?  More people should be travelers!!

The Necessary

Yup.  That's the Mount Vernon Necessary.  

Some things never pass away.  Guess what's on the bathroom door of our little farmhouse here in Virginia?

 

Strolling Up To Mount Vernon

Wow!  For the 1700's this is a HUGE home in America!!  As with most homes here, it didn't start out this size.  It began as a simple farmhouse built by George's father in 1735 and, after leasing it from his widowed sister-in-law in 1754, George did a little of this and a little of that to it over the next 50 years.  This is the final result!  Not bad considering he was off fighting our wars most of the time!

Nowadays, remodeling almost says to the world that you don't have enough money to buy "new."  How crazy are we?  Stay in the same house for fifty years and you have twenty years of "free" rent!  Stop moving from house to house folks!  Just "grow" the one you have and forget about what the Jones' think!
 
But back to Mount Vernon.  Getting instructions communicated back to his family wasn't easy.  His first major expansion was in 1758-59 during our war with the French and Indians (1754-1763).  Benjamin Franklin didn't even get the U.S. Postal Service authorized and started until 1775 - and it was very primitive, so even then George had to rely on friends and couriers to get a letter to or from Mount Vernon.

Just before the American Revolution against England broke out in 1776, George started his second major expansion.  (Now, I wonder why ol' Ben wanted a national postal service in 1775 that could deliver letters and newspapers cheaply?  Ohhh!  So the rebellious Americans could communicate during the Revolution!  Of course!)  The "modern" postal service, though, wasn't established until 1792 when Congress authorized local post offices and postal roads.  I'm thinkin' those Post Roads did as much for transportation and commerce in the 1770's as Interstates did in the 1950's - comparatively speaking.)

The cupola on the top of Mount Vernon is one of my favorite features.  Remember, there was no air conditioning back then.  In the summertime, if you went up to the cupola and opened the windows, they would act as a chimney and draw the cooler air in from the open doors and windows on the first floor, up through the different levels and force the hot air out.  However, unlike chimneys, in the winter time you could close those windows tight and trap the warm air of the house in those upper bedrooms.  Smart.  Very, very smart!  Just as (another) side note, Washington created a chair with a foot pedal that would swing a fan over his head for extra cooling.  I would imagine wearing those powdered wigs was a very hot piece of fashion in more ways than one.  We weren't allowed to take photos inside the house, or I'd share that one with you.

Overall I think it is a very handsome home!

Over To Mount Vernon, The Home of George Washington

From our Cherry tree quest, we cross the Potomac River and follow what seemed to be some very convoluted GPS directions to Mount Vernon.  Eventually we achieved our goal and were pretty much the first folks there that Saturday morning.  We enter the estate through what is known as "The Texas Gate" because a group of Texans supported the construction of the original main gate in 1899, and again in 1988 the restoration of this gate.  (Who knew?)

We were greeted by the (life size) Washington family:

George reminds me of Granpa.  This bronze is supposedly made from a lifemask George allowed to have done, and so the head dimensions are precise.  The body dimensions are based on his clothing, so the body dimensions are probably right on also.  By all accounts, Granpa's head was dimensionally big for his body, too, but I guarantee you that his shoulders were (and are) much broader than George's! Martha, if I remember correctly, was really more like me and my dimensions, but, hey, she was the first First Lady, so she gets to be any size she wants!  (And that's okay by me.)
 

We move on to allow the Washington's to greet other guests, and we stroll through the Visitor's Center.


These stained glass windows give a quick overview of Washington's life.  They're really quite something to see in person.

Our first glimpse of the home at Mount Vernon is from a distance:

I don't know if that's ectoplasm or sun glare on the camera lens - but I think it's pretty cool the way it comes down right on that spot. 

Cherry Blossoms?

We're drivin' and lookin' - lookin' and drivin'...

Cool architecture.  A couple of flowerless, leafless trees of unknown species.  Still drivin' ...

Pretty flowers.  Still lookin'...

Cool building.  Washington has LOTS of cool buildings.

Washington Monument.  Must be getting close...  Cherry trees are planted willy-nilly throughout D.C., but "the" trees are along the banks of the Potomac, and the Washington Monument is on the Potomac.

Ah, ha!  We think this must be a cherry tree!  The whole cherry tree thing started in 1885 when one Eliza Schidmore, a photographer (in 1885?  She was certainly on the cutting edge of technology!) Schidmore came home from Japan with the idea of adding some color to D.C.  The city of Washington, D.C. simply ignored her.  Over twenty years later, she's still hung up on the idea and decides to raise funds to buy them herself.  She buddied up with First Lady Helen Taft who had lived in Japan for awhile and knew of the beauty of blossoming cherry trees.  (You know, I never learned much about the Taft's in my history classes, but these folks keep popping up everywhere now that I'm doing my own research.)

Well, when you get First Ladies involved things start poppin' !!  The Japanese consul in New York got wind of the plans and suggested his government make a gift of the cherry trees to them. 

The story doesn't end there, though, because nothing in life is simple.


The City of Tokyo donated two thousand cherry trees to be planted along the Potomac River.  They were shipped to Seattle and finally reached D.C. in January, 1910.  Oops!  The U.S. Department of Agriculture discovered those 2,000 trees were crawling with insects and nematodes, and the trees themselves were diseased.  To protect America's trees, they decided to destroy (almost) all 2,000 trees - as in burn them!  And so, with President Taft's approval, they did - without so much as a "by your leave" to the Japanese embassy.

WELL!  Another (major) oops!  The cherry blossom "is a potent symbol equated with the evanescence of human life and epitomizes the transformation of Japanese culture throughout the ages."  How do you think the Japanese felt about the burning of their gift?  How would YOU feel about having a gift you gave burned?  But, diplomacy (LOTS of diplomacy) eventually worked its magic, and the mayor of Tokyo chose to donate not 2,000 trees but actually increased it to 3,000 trees!  AND, he ordered that these 3,000 were to be "taken in December 1910 from the famous collection along the bank of the Arakawa River in Adachi Ward, a suburb of Tokyo, and grafted onto specially selected understock produced in Itami City, Hyogo Prefecture."

THESE trees reached D.C., and in a ceremony on March 27, 1912, two were planted by Mrs. Taft and Viscountess Chinda, wife of the Japanese Ambassador, planted two Yoshino cherry trees on the northern bank of the Tidal Basin, about 125 feet south of what is now Independence Avenue, SW.  These two original trees still stand several hundred yards west of the John Paul Jones Memorial, located at the terminus of 17th Street, SW. Situated near the bases of the trees is a large bronze plaque which commemorates the occasion.

By the time we got to the cherry trees on the Potomac we were too late - blooms were mostly gone and everything was leafed out.  Not all is lost though, because now we know the story!!

Remember I said "almost" all of those first 2,000 trees were burned?  Well, in an Evening Star article on January 29, 1910, mention is made of a dozen of the "buggiest trees" being saved for further study, and "planted out in the experimental plot of the bureau, and there will be an expert entomologist with a dark lantern, and a butterfly net, cyanide bottle and other lethal weapons placed on guard over the trees, to see what sort of bugs develop."

And with that image, I bid you adieu!

On To Washington, D.C. For Us

We need to move on from Antietam.  We have to be "home" by dark.  (That's so funny!  Our grandkids get to stay out until midnight on the weekend, and we have to be home by dark!)  We don't know where our hotel is.  GPS is nice (very nice!) but one time it took us through some pretty shaky neighborhoods on our way to a hotel - and it was after dark.  Granpa said then that we should at least find our hotel before dark.

Turns out, the hotel was a bit more upscale than we had imagined for the price we paid.  Valet parking was the only parking there was.  (I don't like valet parking.  I don't like parking way away from the room because I always forget things, and can't go back for them without it being a pain.)  The room was really nice, and there was a Mexican restaurant (my favorite) just down the street a tad.

So we had a pretty restful evening, and got up early the next morning, had breakfast downstairs, and began cruising D.C. for cherry blossoms!

"The Bloody Lane"

Such a beautiful, pastoral scene.  This is quite probably what it looked like on that September morning in 1862 - until the cacophony of war broke loose!  Over to the right is where a peaceful farm lane would be transformed into what the soldiers who fought there would describe as the "road of death."

Confederate forces of over 2,200 men hunkered down (as we say in Texas) in this sunken road and, over piled-up fence rails, faced a Union force of first 5,000 men.  An hour later those 5,000 were reinforced by an additional 4,000.  The fighting was so fierce and "the missiles of death were flying so thickly," that an attempt to reinforce the Confederate line with 3,800 men failed.

The Union attack began about 9:30 in the morning.  By 1:00 in the afternoon the Rebels retreated under "minnie balls, shot and shell (that) rained upon us from every direction except the rear."

The lane began the day as you see it on the left.  In a little over three hours it was transformed into what you see on the right.  When the fighting eased, 5,500 soldiers lay dead or wounded in the road or on the field in front of the road.  To this day it is known as The Bloody Lane. 



As a result of all this carnage, neither side gained a decisive advantage.  When I think on this, I believe that wars will never be fought like this anymore.  There are aircraft and missiles and drones.  There will still be combat, but not with folks lining up in rows to be shot down in huge numbers.  The bravery of the Rebels to stand up against enormous numbers of the enemy, battle after battle after battle, is admirable.  The fact that they won a number of those battles is amazing.  But the days of that kind of war are over.

That's the good news. The bad news is, that the kind of warfare being fought now - across the world - has very little heroism with it.  It seems the attacks are against civilians by terrorists who seek change, not by war, but by killing non-combatant civilian working men and women and their children in marketplaces and neighborhoods and offices. The heros show up after the fact, trying to save the innocents. 

The Confederates fought to save their way of life; today's terrorists fight to change a way of life that doesn't even touch their "countries."  The Bible says that there will always be wars and rumors of wars.  I suppose that's just the way mankind is, but I hope we never ever get used to it...

Antietam Creek Near Sharpsburg, Maryland

Maryland.  I don't know why the bloodiest battles were fought in Maryland...  This battle at Antietam Creek would be the bloodiest one-day battle of the entire Civil War.

Granpa studies the battle plans; I study the people engulfed by chance and circumstance. 

The word Antietam comes from the Algonquian Indian term that meant "swift-flowing stream."  That sounds wonderful and healing to me.  Fresh flowing water is good stuff, just the place one would want to build a cabin on and rest.  In September, 1862 there would be either no rest or an eternal rest for many, many American men and boys.

September 4th, 1862, Confederate General Robert E. Lee went north into Maryland, his first major attempt at attacking on enemy soil.  He crossed the Potomac River - a mighty river 405 miles long, the 4th largest river along America's Atlantic coast.   Lee crossed the Potomac from Virginia into western Maryland and into enemy territory.  He kept the river at his back so as to give his troops a line of retreat if necessary.  He positioned his army of 40,000 on a ridge west of Antietam Creek. 

Anyone familiar with America's Civil War would recognize the Confederate leadership:
  Robert E. Lee
  Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson
  James Longstreet
  Daniel Hill
  Ambrose Hill

Lee had a good military plan, but apparently his orders to his generals was a bit, m-m-m, open to interpretation one might say.  Unbeknownst to Lee, his orders may have been vague to his men, but the Union thought they were clear enough!  On September 13th, a Union soldier happened upon a piece of paper laying on the side of the road: Robert E. Lee's Special Order 191.  This single piece of paper exposed Lee's whole plan of operations for Lee's Maryland Campaign.

You will recognize most of the Union leadership, too:
  George McClellan
  Joseph Hooker
  Joseph Mansfield
  Edwin Sumner
  Ambrose Burnside

When McClellan laid his eyes on Special Order 191, he knew without a doubt that it was time to hit the Rebels with everything he had.  It would be the fourth major battle of the Eastern Theater.  First there was the attack on Fort Sumter and then the first and second battles (a year apart) of Manassas / Bull Run.

The battle at Antietam all began at a small church called Dunkers, which is ironic because the congregation were pacifists!  By day's end almost a fourth of the 100,000 soldiers engaged in the fight were either killed, wounded, or missing.  The lines of battle had not shifted very much throughout the day, with most of the fighting taking place in a cornfield north of the church,

and another Sunken Road fight like Fredericksburg, Virginia. (See one of my earlier posts from our last contract in Virginia.)  For about three hours 2,200 Rebels held off Union forces totaling about 10,000!  Finally, the Confederates had to retreat, but they had shattered the Union lines so severely that the Federals couldn't pursue their "victory."

Overall, the Union Army stood their ground, and Lee took his escape route back across the Potomac into Virginia.

It was this victory that truly made an emancipation proclamation feasible, and it was the carnage that changed battlefield medicine forever.  Think about the human cost of this single battle:  23,000 dead, wounded, or missing men.  This also changed the way America would memorialize battlefields in the future.

Almost immediately, to prevent death from disease facilitated by rotting corpses, 3,500 were buried - by hand!  As soon as time permitted though, Confederates were moved to three local cemeteries, and the Union soldiers were moved to what would become the Antietam National Cemetery.

The chief medical officer of the Union Army, Dr. Jonathan Letterman, had just two weeks before the battle, put in place his revolutionary plan for an ambulance corp and a triage system to prioritize the wounded.

It was at Antietam that Clara Barton became known as "The Angel of the Battlefield," but it wasn't until 1881 that she founded the American Red Cross.  She was completely neutral when it came to who fought for which side.  She simply wanted to ease the pain and suffering of what was left behind - including the needs of civilians.  Hospitals were set up wherever a roof could be found.  One newspaper called the area "one vast hospital."  Thousands of amputees were the result of this battle.


These photographs were taken by Granpa.  Things have changed very, very little since the time of the battle of Antietam Creek.  One truly has a sense of walking back through time, back to a time even before the battle.  We walked the fields, we followed the battle through maps and interpretive signage, we could see how a peaceful morning erupted into unimaginable horror and heartache. 

We think it is right that these battles are not forgotten.  We think it is right to pay homage to men who truly cared about their country.  I'm sorry for the Civil War.  I'm glad the Union was preserved.  The American Revolution was a fight to make all men free of government oppression; the Civil War gave the right of all men to be free from oppression by each other.  But those things are only for a season - unless good men are again willing to heed the call to battle, because evil will always try to oppress men who simply want to be free to seek life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness...

The Schedule and, Therefore, The Plan

Granpa's work schedule will be a bit different this go-round here in Danville.  There are only two echo techs, so they will have to be on call every other weekend.  They've decided, though, that they will work Sunday through Thursday when they are on call, so that they can have a three-day weekend when they're not on call.  That'll work!

We knew he would have to be on call the first weekend, because the other guy has been on call 24/7 waiting for Granpa to transition from Kaua'i.  Poor feller needs a break!  But Granpa is already cookin' up plans for the next weekend which will be three days:  we're goin' to Washington, D.C. to see the cherry blossoms!!  They should either be right at peak or just past.  If we miss them, there's lots more to see and do there.  On the way up there, Granpa is thinkin' we'll swing by the Antietam (Civil War) battlefield.

For my two cents, I'd like to make a grand tour of George Washington's home, Mount Vernon.  I was there once before when I was in my teens, but that was a lo-o-o-ng time ago.  We've also received an invitation to attend the first anniversary of the opening of the MOC (Museum of the Confederacy) annex in Appomattox, Virginia, Saturday night.

In the meantime, Granpa enjoys snapping photos of pretty stuff right here on the farm:

Danville, Virginia - Again

We're back at our same lil' farmhouse in Danville, Virginia by nightfall Monday night. 

Tuesday morning Granpa is at work at Danville Regional Medical Center which is affiliated with Duke University Medical Center.  Also, by nightfall on Monday, I've unpacked our totes and ready for the business of homemaker and COO (Chief Operating Officer) of our little traveler's organization.

Things have changed a bit.  One of the neighboring farmers decided to clear-cut her timber, and that side of the land looks like some kind of blast blew things to bits.  Removing the trees (but leaving the stumps and all kinds of debris) reveals several areas of standing water; I don't know if that's from recent rains or perhaps underground springs.  The fields around our house are plowed, but dormant, waiting for the strange wintery Spring of 2013 to settle down and stay warm.  Our host says the planting of tobacco should start in the next few weeks.

I hang up the bird feeder and fill it with yummy bird feed, and I spread out trails and piles of deer corn hoping to draw the deer back from their flight away from the sounds of chainsaws and crashing trees.  The birds begin showing up tentatively at first and by day three they are back in flocks:  beautiful little bright yellow finches, mockingbirds, dove, nuthatches... everyone from our previous visit makes an appearance.  I'm delighted!

I think I see something way off across the field.  It's big (relatively speaking), but I have to get Granpa's camera to zoom in and determine for sure what it is:  a wild turkey!  It really is huge!  No wonder the Pilgrims served them up for Thanksgiving!

The next day our deer are back. 

But even the corn is not tempting them closer to the house; they stay in the far field.  That's okay, they'll ease on over in a few days.

And our lil' groundhog is still housed under the garage.  We've seen him scurry back under when we drive up to the house, but we haven't been quick enough or sneaky enough to get a picture of him.  All in good time!

Granpa gets the same welcome back to Danville Regional that he experienced back in Kauai.  (That is so COOL!)

Tyler, Texas

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.  Backed the pickup up to the door, off loaded the suitcases, popped 'em open, unpacked the snorkels and Hawai'i-centric stuff, and fell into bed.

Easter Sunday morning we roll out of bed, re-packed the suitcases with Virginia-bound sundries and clothes, and traipsed off to our home church for Easter services.  We sat up on the shelf (as our grandkids call it - most folks know it as a balcony), and I had an absolutely wonderful time saying effusive hellos to friends and neighbors we hadn't seen in months and months and months!

Back to the house, and while we load totes, etc. into our Toyota Sienna van, our daughter-in-law prepares a Texas brisket for our lunch.  We eat, hug, and hit the road.


By late evening we are out of Texas, through Louisiana, and at the mighty Mississippi.

We stop on the Mississippi side of the river for a photo op and potty break.  It's rained or had thick cloud cover all day, but the sun seems to be struggling to break through before bottoming out on the horizon.




 

 I can't tell if Granpa was capturing the sunlight - or just in love with cannon.  You know Granpa!

We travel on, finally bedding down for the night on the Mississippi/Alabama border.

Next morning we're on the road to our lil' farmhouse in the tobacco fields of Virginia!

DFW

Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport.  It's 6:22 p.m. Saturday evening here.  We come off the plane and out the gate, and what to our wondering eyes appears but ... restaurants of every name-brand kind there is!!  We could eat our way to heaven at DFW!  I guess LAX is on a perpetual diet, and no one in California needs food.  My goodness it's good to be back in TEXAS!

It's been a really long day, but our son and family are here to meet us and that makes things wonderful!  I just don't want to stop hugging and talking - but, alas, there is still a two hour drive to our home in east Texas, and tomorrow morning we will be heading out on a now familiar sixteen hour drive to Virginia.  This contract will carry us until the middle of May, then, maybe, we will take a few weeks off and hang out in Texas at home, sweet home!

LAX

Los Angeles International Airport.  Seen it a lot in movies and television shows.  I guess with a six hour layover here we're gonna see a lot more of it, eh?

 
So, the plane had a tailwind, and we land about a half-hour earlier than expected.  No worries; what's a half-hour more or less?

We find a restroom, and then look for a place to sit down and relax over a big restaurant breakfast:  hot tea, hand-squeezed orange juice, sausage, bacon, eggs, toast or biscuits and gravy... Mmmm!  Lookin' right and lookin' left, strollin', lookin'... There is such a dearth of eating places here!!  (I love words!  "Dearth" sounds like what it means: a scarcity that makes dear; specifically famine.  Can't think of a more appropriate word to use there than dearth!  Pronounced durth.)

There's a Starbucks, but Granpa and I have never drank coffee and can't afford their prices anyway.  There are geedunks along the wall with juices and sodas, pre-made sandwiches, etc.   And there's a pizza place.  Pizza at 6 a.m.?  Nah.  But that's about all that LAX offers.  Can you imagine?!

We're standing in front of the pizza place (that has every seat taken!) and wondering what to do.  By now you know that I read everything my eyes wander over, and, lo and behold, the pizza places sells freshly made breakfast burritos.  (Don't tell Granpa, but two of them cost us $24.00!!!  Yup, this is L.A.)  We find a couple of seats in a waiting area at one of the gates and settle in for the long wait.  The burritos may have been mind-boggling expensive, but they are the biggest, best breakfast burritos EVER.

The Flight

Our pastor on Kaua'i and his wonderful wife were good enough to take us out to eat before dropping us at the airport.  We had such a good time visiting that we were pushing the clock to make the flight.

We get to the airport and start the baggage check.  Two suitcases - both overweight.  They offer to let us shift contents so that only one was overweight and subject to the $100 charge.  (Thanks - but what a challenge!)  Well, there's my Bible.  It's a biggie - maybe four pounds there.  Binoculars, another pound or two.  My kitchen tools that I'm inseparable from, there's a few pounds there.  John's can of coins; they don't add up to much - unless you're talking weight!  Add a lil' of this, and a lil' of that, and that ought to do it.

Back to the counter.  The attendant, I'm sure having been through this routine many times, is very surprised that I'm right on the money with my weight change!  (Now if I could shift my personal weight over to some other ol' bag...)  She accepts the two suitcases, and moves us and our carry-ons over to security screening.

I know the routine here, too.  (What a pain.)  Shoes, pocket contents and hoodie in tote #1, laptop out of its sleeve and into tote #2, sleeve in tote #3, open printer carrier, place printer in #4, carrier in #5, carry-on tote with purse, camera, etc. in #6, Granpa's shoes and pocket contents in #7, open overnight bag, remove CPAP, place in #8, bag itself goes in #9.  (Good grief!  Why bother to pack?  Next time I'll just bring it all in in totes on a cart!)

Finally, I get to step through the security portal.  An alarm goes off, and an announcement is made that I am the lucky winner of a random security search of all belongings.  Really?  You're kidding?  No?  It has been such a long, long day.  Most of my errands were in the rain - and I left the umbrella in the apartment.  Up and down stairs doing laundry.  I had to stop everything at lunch and look vivacious for Granpa's aloha party at the hospital, pack everything, clean the apartment, then look vivacious for the dinner with the pastor and his wife.  Now this.  Well, at least I don't have to look vivacious - which is good, 'cause I think I'm completely out of vi-va!

All totes have to be moved off of the conveyor, and a special agent needs to be summoned.  No worries.  We can do this!  Granpa is backing me up all the way.

Guess what?  They found nothing suspicious.  Nada.  Can you imagine that?

So, we're left to repack the whole kit and caboodle.  And it all GOES back!  (How many times have you tried to repack and something no longer fits?)

On to the gate area, and I can finally sit down.  Not.  Every single seat is taken including the floor along the walls.  We stand, without even being able to lean against the wall, for almost thirty minutes.  You know how romantic it seems to have a job that lets you fly all over the country?  It wasn't even romantic before 9-11...  Now, a job that lets you drive all over the country, now that's the ticket I want.  Hey!  Wait a minute!  That's the job we have (except when we go to Kaua'i.)  And instead of the "company" saying fly here or drive there, we get to choose where we want to go - or not.  Good deal!  What am I talking about?  GREAT deal!

Finally, they start everyone boarding.  When I find my seat, I plop down, and that is all she wrote 'til we landed at LAX for a six hour layover.  (Oh, please...)

Aloha, and Mahalo!

Good-bye, and thank you!

We are homeward bound yet again --- but not to worry, our schedule will have us in Texas for only eighteen hours.  Then we're off to the east coast and back to the little farmhouse in the tobacco fields.  Yes, it's another command performance, a return appearance for Granpa.  (I think he's beginning to like being greeted by beaming faces and hearty handshakes.)

This time a tech broke her arm and is requiring surgery.  The department was so excited at the chance of having Granpa back that the only remaining tech volunteered to keep working and being on call 24/7 until we could fly back to the mainland, load our totes, and run up to Virginia.

The department here on Kaua'i is throwing Granpa a party, I'm packing, returning the flat-screen TV and rented car, giving away the few things we've accumulated and doing a final cleaning of the apartment.  (Whew!)

Granpa is excited about going back to Virginia because he loves the history so much and the people were so good to us there.  So, put away the Mai Tai's and bring on the Mint Julep's (sans alcohol please), we are on the way!

Glass Beach

As I was saying...

Off to the left of Glass Beach is a cliff.  We park up there by the cemetery, and walk to the edge.  Ah! An ancient, cooled lava flow.  Just look at those colors!

The lava tube collapsed somewhere back in time.  When they talk about The Tunnels over on the North Shore, this would be what it would look like if the ocean receded - only the tunnel would be much deeper.  If you snorkel out from the beach there, suddenly the lava flow ends and you are in deep, deep water and, yes, that's where the sharks are.  It took me less than a fraction of a fraction of a second to turn my tail back to shore!

Here at Glass, the whole shoreline reveals one pretty scene after another:

(I like his shadow in the bottom left corner :)

We stroll on, Granpa plays with the setting on his camera, and he gets this slow-motion picture of the sea flowing in through an arch.  Amazing color!  If you're lookin' at this on a smart phone, you need to move to a full screen computer!

As the water flows out Granpa refocuses his camera lens and gets a really great picture of the colors offered on the left of the cave.

In one of the pools of water left behind at high tide we find this little guy.  The water is sooo clear!

As usual there are simply too many gorgeous pictures to share...  Sorry.

Rather than clamber over the cooled black lava back to our car, we head up the cliff and inland.  Even there we find a pretty scene.

Even with the pesky power lines it's pretty.  I love the colors in the clouds, too.  

And, uh, how many people did you see crowding these photos?

We Discovered a New Beach

(I hope you're looking at this on a full size computer screen and not an iPhone...)

After spending more than a year on this island of Kaua'i a couple of years ago, we still didn't manage to get around to all of the beaches!  Now this beach, called Glass Beach, isn't very big at all and doesn't have a lot to recommend it - other than it's beauty.  (Duh.)

It's called Glass Beach because decades ago it was a dumping ground and there was a huge amount of broken glass.  The operative word there is "decades."  If there is any glass there now it has been ground up as small as the grains of coarse sand.  Granpa hopped out to take a picture - I thought he was taking the beach...

But it seems to be completely absent from this picture!

So much for thinking!  So, he hops back in the car, and we continue on the dirt road for maybe a quarter of a mile up a little cliff and down to - an ancient cemetery.  I mean "ancient."  Some of the marker stones are just slabs of stone with hand-etched (but no longer discernible) information.  We talked about getting a picture ...

But then both our attentions were drawn out to sea:

Uhhh.  That splash is bigger than that boat...

 Good grief!!  That whale is right on the boat - and there's a guy standing right on the bow!

 Way too close!  There's laws against hasseling the whales in their breeding grounds here!! 

I can't watch any more of this!!!