here we are

welcome back!

dear readers

hello all who occasionally link here...

I'm going to change the url of my site.
Please let me know if you want me to tell you what it is.
(which i will when i change it.)

love,
kate


ps: i'm just changing it so my last name isn't in the address anymore. I'll probably do it in a few days when I get the sense that people who check here have done so.

always hem

Hem has some new songs. You can preview them here.

more from Lewis

I find this bone chilling:

The commonest metaphors would be questioned till some bitter truth had been forced from its hiding place.
"These fiendish German atrocities--"
"But are not fiends a figment of the imagination?"
"Very well, then; these brutal atrocities--"
"But none of the brutes does anything of the kind!"
"Well, what am I to call them?"
"Is it not plain that we must call them simply Human?"

It's from Chapter 9 of Surprised by Joy. Lewis is talking of a tutor whom he described as "near to being a purely logical entity." He would never make small talk or use manners of speaking lightly and boldly questioned anything anyone said.


and on learning a foreign language:

We opened our books at Iliad, Book I. Without a word of introduction, Knock [Lewis's tutor] read aloud the first twenty lines or so.... He then translated, with a few, a very few explanations, about a hundred lines.... When he had finished he handed me over Crusius' Lexicon and, having told me to go through again as much as I could of what he had done, left the room. It seems an odd method of teaching, but it worked. At first I could travel only a very short way along the trail he had blazed, but every day I could travel further. Presently I could travel the whole way. Then I could go a line or two beyond his furthest North. Then it became a kind of game to see how far beyond. He appeared at this stage to value speed more than absolute accuracy. The great gain was that I very soon became able to understand a great deal without (even mentally) translating it; I was beginning to think in Greek. That is the great Rubicon to cross in learning any language. Those in whom the Green word lives only while they are hunting for it in the lexicon, and who then substitute the English word for it, are not reading the Greek at all; they are only solving a puzzle. The very formula, "Naus means a ship," is wrong. Naus and ship both mean a thing, they do not mean on another. Behind Naus, as behind navis or naca, we want to have a picture of a dark, spender mass with sail or oars, climbing the ridges, with no officious English word intruding.

a photo album of Windham

With siblings spread across two continents, it's not often that we all get together. Elizabeth and Milan were returning to Prague, and we decided to have a family reunion in July 2007 before they left. All my siblings, their spouses and children too, with my parents total 15 now. It was a long time since we were all together, and that certainly before several of the chillens were born. We stayed in a lovely large cabin in the Catskills that a family friend lent us.

We had a few day outings, and hung around at home lots. Here we went to a little pond with a sandy beach where we were not permitted to swim and geese poop littered the beach. We didn't stay long, but I enjoy these pictures.

On another day we drove out to a state park and had a picnic by the lake. We put my dad's little red kayak in the water and all took turns. The kids did a bit of swimming and playing in the sand. Here we all are eating lunch.

After lunch we went on a bit of a hike. (Isn't Daniel just so cute? How many more years do I get to say that?)

Anna is too (and I bet I have lots of years before she'd mind me saying that). Mary made her wreaths of daisies on short walks from the cabin.

You can see the table all set for dinner. As with all family occasions, it seems much time is spent preparing food or sitting at the table enjoying it. But the rest of our laying-around-time was primarily spent in playing games. My birthday was on Friday, and at the start of the week Mary gave me the game Settlers of Catan. We all became addicted to it, sometimes even playing games back to back....

Here's Ruth, Radu, Carol and Elizabeth playing (teamed with Daniel). Milan is reading in the background.

(Radu likes it even though he doesn't like other board games.)

And since only four can play settlers, the rest of us read.

Or play Backgammon. I dare say Mark always looks cute in pictures. You gotta click on this next one to get a bigger image of his face.

Another day the big kids went on a hike. It was long and rigorous. It had rained and I recall wet flora sticking to my feet. Everyone else will recall that I wore Chacos... And I recall that Mary kept a very fast pace on the steep climb. Then we came to a fork and didn't know what to do. We didn't have cell reception to call and ask. We managed to find our way back to the car.

One evening was dedicated to old family slides which I enjoyed getting out and going through. On another evening we watched a movie.

We used the opportunity to take several whole-family pictures.
This one is my favorite: And of the others on the back porch, I've picked my favorite shots of various people:

I really like Elizabeth in this one.

David and Jodi.

The Zubas (with Daniel scrunched in - isn't that splendid?)Daniel and Anna. I like this one of Mary, Carol and Daddy especially. But there are me and mother, completing the 15.


Friday, July 20 was the last day of our reunion, and after a morning birthday celebration with family, Courtney and I headed out toward New Hampshire.

from Lewis

I'm reading C.S. Lewis's Surprised by Joy right now. I like it. I especially like this passage about his father. I find it particularly humorous.

At the same time he [my father] had - when seated in his own armchair after a heavy midday dinner on an August afternoon with all the windows shut - more power of confusing an issue or taking up a fact wrongly than any man I have ever known. As a result it was impossible to drive into his head any of the realities of our school life, after which (nevertheless) he repeatedly inquired. The first and simplest barrier to communication was that, having earnestly asked, he did not "stay for an answer" or forgot it the moment it was uttered. Some facts must have been asked for and told him, on a moderate computation, once a week, and were received by him each time as perfect novelties. But this was the simplest barrier. Far more often he retained something, but something very unlike what you had said. His mind so bubbled over with humor, sentiment, and indignation that, long before he had understood or ever listened to your words, some accidental hint had sent his imagination to work, and he had produced his own version of the facts, and believed that he was getting it from you. As he invariably got proper names wrong (no name seemed to him less probable than another) his textus receptus was often almost unrecognizable. Tell him that a boy called Churchwood had caught a field mouse and kept it as a pet, and a year, or ten years later, he would ask you, "Did you ever hear what became of poor Chickweed who was so afraid of the rats?" For his own version, once adopted, was indelible, and attempts to correct it only produced an incredulous "Hm! Well, that's not the story you used to tell."

...And besides all these confusions, there were the sheer non sequiturs when the ground seemed to open at one's feet. "Did Shakespeare spell his name with an e at the end?"asked my brother. "I believe," said I - but my father interrupted: "I very much doubt if he used the Italian calligraphy at all." A certain church in Belfast has both a Green inscription over the door and a curious tower. "That church is a great landmark," said I, "I can pick it out from all sorts of places - even from the top of Cave Hill." "Such nonsense," said my father, "how could you make out Greek letters three or four miles away?"

One conversation, held several years later, may be recorded as a specimen of these continual cross-purposes. My brother had been speaking of a reunion after dinner for the officers of the Nth Division which he had lately attended. "I supposed your friend Collins was there," said my father.

B. Collins? Oh no. He wasn't in the Nth, you know.
F. (After a pause.) Did these fellows not like Collins then?
B. I don't quite understand. What fellows?
F. The Johnnies that got up the dinner.
B. Oh no, not at all. It was nothing to do with liking or not liking. You see, it was a purely Divisional affair. There'd be no question of asking anyone who hadn't been in the Nth.
F. (After a long pause.) Hm! Well, I'm sure poor Collins was very much hurt.

There are situations in which the very genius of Filial Piety would find it difficult not to let some sign of impatience escape him.

(from Chapter 8 "Release")

summer of 2007

I have a hard time deciding if I'm a particular person, that is, if I have tendencies toward perfectionism and if I'm prone to be picky. I certainly am about some things, I know. But it's not generally how I would describe myself. Anyway, one of the things I can be particular about is chronology and good linking systems in my blogging. I don't know why, but it just makes me happy.

so, i shall explain: in order to follow the chronology of the summer posts since i'm not necessarily posting them in succession, i have links at the bottom of each post to the next chapter. and the title of each post links you back to the previous one.

you can start here in North Carolina at the end of May.
or you can jump to Texas
or New England. but i'm not done yet.

they make a lovely chain.



hmmm...let's list things Kate is particular in:
- tea
- punctuation
(but not always following grammar rules)
- precision in making things, ie: wooden game boards
(but I'm generally not precise in measuring flour, or cutting fabric...i like to think I'm precise when it matters. =)
- budgets and spreadsheets
(but not time management)
- packing
(but not keeping my room clean)

I can't think of anything else. thoughts?

authors and such

Saturday was such a beautiful day, and we had such a good time. We put the bikes on the back of Scout again and headed out to Lexington.

Courtney and I on the green at Lexington, where the battles began. The American troops were sorely outnumbered and they quickly retreated back to Concord. The Redcoats followed them along the path which we followed ourselves...

The Minute Man National Park is a narrow stretch between Lexington and Concord including a few historic homes and a trail that approximates the path the British took in chasing the rebels. We stopped at the Visitor Center for a moment because, of course, that's what we do. We said hello to the ranger and filled up our water bottles. Then we began our day biking. The weather was ideal - warm and gorgeous.
About half way through the park we came to the Hartwell Tavern where various Redcoats were demonstrating their drills and weapons. We took a break from biking and ate our lunch.
We continued cycling and when we came out of the park we were on the edge of Concord, right by the Alcott home.

Courtney was especially excited to see this place.

We took a tour, and I would say it was the best tour I had this trip. We saw a short video of Louisa May's life in a room that had been her sister's (I forgot the real sister's name, but the Amy of the March family) and there were sketches on the wall done by her. Then a very knowledgeable guide took us through the house and we learned so many interesting things about Miss Alcott's life and her family. I never knew how much her family paralleled the story of Little Women. Not totally of course, but as I realized the extent to which the March story was modeled after this family and house, it was much more exciting to be inside it. I felt like I knew them all and was coming for a visit. Which I was.

We got back on our bikes and rode past the Emersons' house, just down the road a piece. (We would have stopped for tea, but had to get to Walden before the sun went down.)
We then arrived at the small town. Concord is adorable. We went straight toward the cemetery to continue the motif of our travels, if you will. Here we saw the graves of Emerson, Louisa May Alcott, Thoreau, and Hawthorn, all on what is known as Authors' Ridge. We biked through the town, and I determined I would like to live there.

Then we mapped a route out to Walden Pond which is only a few miles outside of the town. Besides the fact that the March sisters go ice skating here, Walden Pond was an important destination on our tour because Courtney teaches Thoreau and has read Walden multiple times.
We walked around the pond looking for a place to swim. Something unique about Walden is that swimming is allowed anywhere in the pond, not just off the sandy beach. We didn't come to a spot until we hit the shady part of the lake unfortunately. The water was really freezing, and we hadn't wanted to carry our towels with us on our bike ride, so we only had handtowels.
Courtney's head bobbing in the water: She managed to stay in longer than me.
After we completed the loop we came to the site of Thoreau's home of two years. This pile of rocks marks the place where his little cabin was thought to be located. (Later someone excavated and found it to be about ten meters to the right.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately."
There was a small visitors' center and Courtney had to have her picture taken with Henry (I insisted). The replica of his cabin is in the background.

And then we left Massachusetts, heading for them western skies.
So long Concord. Howdy, Windham.

Boston, MA

On Friday, a week before my birthday, we took the T into Boston city and met a tour guide for a piece of the Freedom Trail.

The Freedom Trail wasn't what I was expecting. I don't know why I was expecting something of a rugged path. (maybe because it is called a trail....) It doesn't really make sense I realize now. I was expecting to feel more like I was going back in time. Like it would all be in an old town area. But obviously Boston has remained a city today and built around its historical sites. And I sort of expected it to be more like Atlanta's Freedom path, but Boston's path is the city streets with a red painted line or red brick. It winds around downtown and up to the Old North Church and then up Breeds Hill.

We met a tour guide at Faneuil Hall because we were told it was much better to pay for a tour than do it on our own. And I guess it was a pretty good tour. But it was annoying to find out that the guide would only be with us for a fraction of the trail. And we couldn't always hear and didn't have enough time to take pictures. You know how it is. By the time we got to the Old North Church I was wishing we had just bought a booklet that we could have read to each other as we passed the sites. Another time.

Some pics from downtown:

The highlight of the city was the parks. We had lunch in Boston Commons after wading in the Frog Pond. I like frogs.

Then we wandered around and went to the Public Gardens, my favorite. It is just like it is in Make Way for Ducklings. It hadn't dawned on me that I knew this park until I realized I was walking in the brown and white drawings of McCloskey. Of course we saw the swan boats, and real swans. And some nice sculptures.

And then I remembered that Mother said there'd be sculptures of Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, and Quack and their mom. So we asked a gardener where they were. I was really hoping Michael the portly policeman would be there too with his whistle, but alas, he must have been on duty elsewhere.

Beacon Hill. This was cool to walk through. We departed from the Freedom Trail to see the famed rich neighborhood and admire the brownstones. It was fun to imagine living there and taking a book to read in the Public Gardens.
We returned to the Freedom Trail and visited Paul Revere's house. Then we went on to the Old North Church where Paul had ordered a light to be shone "one if by land, two if by sea." We didn't go in it because there was a long line plus we were getting tired. We visited the gift shop and got a kick out of t-shirts about the Tea Party.

We visited a lot of graveyards in this entire New England trip, and many were in Boston. Two were back downtown where we saw the graves of Paul Revere, Mother Goose, and I'm sure others I can't remember. and the graveyard of the Old North Church held Cotton Mather. It was most picturesque.
We were plenty tired of walking by this time, but we still had a ways to go and no easy access to transportation. So, we headed across the Charlestown Bridge. We stopped in the Boston National Historic Park and smiled to reminisce life in NPs last summer. We visited the park center and grinned at the rangers in their hats. We browsed the shelves while we waited for the running film to end. And when the people walked out, we walked in to see the next showing of the film, which I think was on the Battle of Bunker Hill. We didn't want to see the movie as much as we we really needed time to sit down and put our feet up. Besides it was nice and cool in there. So we sat and waited. We waited a long time, not complaining, nearly falling asleep. But when the clock passed the half hour mark and the video hadn't been restarted, we began to wonder if it ever would. So I sleepily wandered out and asked when they were going to start the film again. The rangers laughed to realize that we had been sitting in there all that time...you have to pay for the film and then they start it for you. He told me he'd start it momentarily and just to pay on our way out.

So we watched the film...I honestly can't remember it at all, but I remember that my feet felt better after being up for a bit. And when we left, they told us that we didn't have to pay. I think they thought we were poor college students. That's nice.

We went on board the USS Constitution, and I was struck by how small it was. It was a fun place to take pictures.
From there we began the walk up Breeds Hill toward the monument of the Battle of Bunker Hill which looks so much like the Washington Monument that I'm not going to show you a picture. And for some reason I forget, we call that battle Bunker Hill even though it happened on Breeds Hill. When we arrived at the monument we were excited to notice that we came just in time: it would be closed in 15 minutes. Something about time closing in on one makes a body make a rash decision that otherwise wouldn't have made. The fact that we had just enough time to run up the darn monument made me say, "let's go" and we began to race up it. About 50 steps up it dawned on me that we had still a long way to go up, and I wasn't sure if my thighs would hold out. I forget now of course, but there were something like 500 steps. and we did make it, and took a picture to prove it:
And then we called a friend and managed to convince him to pick us up right at the monument and take us to dinner so our tired legs got to rest. We calculated it at one point, but I'm guessing now that we walked over ten city miles that day.


The next day was my favorite in Massachusetts, favorite by far.