Last night we survived this year's Minnesota State Fair.  This being our third year, we felt as though we knew our way around a little better.  For example, we know exactly where both of the Sweet Martha's chocolate chip cookie stands are; the fastest way to get to the horse barn; where the carousel is; etc.  We still spent the largest part of our time standing in line for rides or food, but at least we didn't do a lot of dithering in between times.  And that counts for something when the rented stroller doesn't have a functioning belt and the three-year-old jumps out and heads down the street as soon as the stroller stops.  Even its disguise as a blue race car couldn't induce Sam to stay seated when the wheels weren't actually in motion. 

For the first time in a long time, I forgot my camera!  So, I have no pictures to share, but I will favor you with a list of all the food we bought along the way.  We share most things (except corn dogs; ick) so we all got a taste of these items:

pancake on a stick; walleye cakes; corn dogs (Micah, Johanna, Sam); brat with onion and peppers (Wm); fruit smoothies; roasted corn (yum!); fried alligator meat (tastes like chicken, only really chewy) with fritters; two different kinds of root beer; mini donuts; chocolate chip cookies; milk

Even with a coupon book, we spent about $100 on food!  We won't be eating out for another six months, but that's okay.  Our digestive tracts need time to recover.

As for rides, once again Johanna and Sam opted for the carousel, which I also had to ride since Sam is too small to go alone.  I think it's a scam, though, because they charged me for a ticket, too.  Anyway, William never could decide what to ride, so he just ate food and that suited him just fine.  Micah, though, found a daring and different ride.  I don't know what it was called, but he climbed up onto a trampoline, then was strapped into a harness attached to long bungy cords, the cords were pulled taut and Micah could jump.  Reeeeeeaaally high.  Each tramp had a worker there who helped the kids jump higher and Micah occasionally got so high that his smile faltered.  Otherwise, he was grinning the whole time.  He intended to do flips, but found it a more daunting endeavor once he was actually in there.  Maybe next year.  Even without flips it was an adventure! 

Our souvenir from the fair is a new yard stick!  Our current yard stick is one that came with the house and is missing inches 1 through 2 and 5/8ths, so it's nice to have an entire yard in our yard stick.

So, a good time, lots of fun memories and all that, but I'm glad it's done because, man, my legs ache!   

I realize that it has been quite some time since I posted my further adventures from May and now we're off on another!  Today we leave for the wild west of North and South Dakota!  When I return, I will finish the last two days of my European saga as well as share all the fascinating detail of our trip out west-ish.  Pa is loading up the wagon now, I've got the bags of flour and cornmeal ready to go, we're deciding what to leave behind, and then we'll be ready to go.  If you feel so inclined, please pray for us as we will are a couple o' gringos and are attempting to take four  young children camping in tents for four nights!  What's that phrase about God having pity on fools and children?  Well, we're covered then. 

Adios, amigos!

After we left Stratford, we made good time down to London.  Tom got all of the students checked into the guest house and then he and I descended into the underground world of The Tube.  We met Katie (our sister) at some big, famous station which I can't think of at the moment...no, not Paddington...Victoria, that was it!  ("The cloak room at Victoria station?" "Yes.  The Brighton line." "The line is immaterial.  Mr. Worthing, I confess I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have told me.  To be born-or at any rate bred-in a handbag, whether it had handles or not seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French Revolution.  And I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?"  Pardon me.  I couldn't resist a reminder of The Importance of Being Earnest.)  Anyway, we chatted for a little while and then Tom headed back to where he and the others were staying while I went on with Katie to her place.  She rents a room in a charming old Georgian style townhouse, well, charming until one has to take luggage up several flights of stairs.  I can only imagine the fun she had moving in there. 

The next morning dawned in a manner befitting London: rainy.  But, nothing daunted, we boarded a train (Katie led, I followed!) and headed for Jane Austen country. 

The train stop is still some way away from Chawton and in nice weather we might have walked, but in the rain we opted for a cab.  When we got into the cab, we asked for "Chawton House."  The home of Jane Austen.  Right?  Um, no.  Chawton House was the home of her wealthy brother, Edward. 

I knew that.  Honest.  I did.  But it didn't really occur to me until the cab dropped us at the front door of this imposing house with no sign of touristy-type attractions which I had sort of expected.  (Not even the buttoned-up Brits will pass up a good marketing opportunity!)  In fact, the brass plaque by the door informed us that the house is now a private library, available by appointment only.  And presumably available only to Austen scholars, so while Katie and I are fans, we can hardly be considered Austen scholars.  A bit non-plussed, Katie and I wandered a bit and finally found a very friendly woman working in one of the outbuildings.  She kindly directed us back down the road we had just come up.  So, we girded our umbrellas and set out in the heavy Hampshire dew. 

Along the way we passed the church yard where the Austens worshiped (this was after her father died, so it's not where he served).

Cassandra and Mrs. Austen are buried in the churchyard.  I proposed going over to see, but Katie nixed the idea, preferring to reach our intended destination sooner rather than any later. 

We walked along the road, determined to enjoy the time despite the rain!  After all, Jane herself must have walked that way in the rain upon numerous occasions. 

We passed this sweet little cottage gate on the way.

At last we reached Chawton Cottage (which we should have noticed on our way past in the cab!).

Once we knew where we were going, we decided to eat our lunch.  Picnicking spots were limited by the rain, so we sat in the old bus stop amid the charming moss, puddles and cobwebs and had a lovely meal.  That done, we headed back to the cottage.  The usual entrance fee of 7 pounds was reduced to just 1 pound because they were in the midst of some work.  Never ones to be "penny wise but pound foolish" we were happy with this arrangement.  We took our time and enjoyed walking through the rooms which Jane knew so well and loved so much. 

I was there!

See?  I really was! 

This is a bit of Jane's garden.  In May it didn't have a lot of color yet, but was still lovely.

When we finished at the cottage, we went across the street to The Greyfriar for a cup of tea.  We spent the rest of the day visiting some friends of Katie's who live fairly close by.  They are a lovely couple and have been very kind to Katie.  Unfortunately, as I sat on their lovely couch in their lovely sitting room, exhaustion crept up on me and I fell asleep!  Right there in the middle of conversation!  I'm sure I'm an embarrassment to Katie - gauche American sister!  But the Tices were gracious and Katie seemed to forgive me (sorry, Katie!).  Trevor led Katie and me on a walking tour of their very tiny, very old little town - King John built a castle close by in the early 1200s.  Finally, they fed us dinner and we headed home to London. 

Another day of education and adventure done!  Plus, I got to spend it with my sister, so it was a really good day!

We left Edinburgh early the next morning.  Not as early as we had hoped because the bus driver, a wrinkled little chappie named Roy, had been given the wrong start time, but still early enough to be "early."  We drove and drove and drove some more until, at loooong last, we arrived in Stratford-upon-Avon. 

That's right, Stratford-upon-Avon, the mecca of Shakespeare lovers the world over.  The town I had longed to visit since I first fell in love with Master Shakespeare in Mr. Carson's 11th grade English class.  The town I had imagined visiting; sparing no expense; taking my time; drinking in the heady atmosphere; strolling along the Avon; napping under the trees as the old river slid past, as silent and wise as it was in Shakespeare's own day; sitting in the Holy Trinity church where Will and his family are buried to watch the light stream through the stained glass and fill the apse; strolling around town, past the schoolhouse where Will most likely attended, past the houses where his daughters lived; perhaps even, in my wildest dreams, attending a performance at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre there by the river.    

As with so many experiences this side of glory, the real life experience fell short of my dreams. 

We arrived at 4:30, worried that they might not even be allowing visitors into the birthplace any more.  I secretly though that to be so close and denied entrance would be too heart-breaking.  Better to not go at all.  But our intripid leader, Tom, hurried to the office and found that they were still allowing entrance!  Hooray! 

We toured the birthplace.  There isn't a lot to it, but they do have the master bedroom set up as though for the arrival of a new baby.  We all went through at a frantic pace but before leaving completely, I decided to turn back and savor the moment.  I stood and talked with the docent there and took in various details and enjoyed.  Finally, I heard Tom's frantic voice calling me.  Time to move on. 

From thence, we set out on a lightning quick tour of the town.  Tom took off at a pace he called brisk and the rest of us called sprinting.  One student, a rather tall young lady with long legs, was able to keep up Tom's "brisk" pace and the rest of us straggled along behind.  Here's how one student described it: “Next was our speed walking tour.  Dr. Copeland won, with Kat a close second.”  This description was amusing and quite apt.  We did see the sites, though.  It may have been over 30 minutes, but not by much. 

Along the river, rowboats named for Shakespeare's heroines.

Inside Holy Trinity church.  (The rest of the apse was under construction!)

Monument to Shakespeare, above his grave.

See?  I was there!  I really was!

We were able to stop by Anne Hathaway's cottage on our way out of town.  The cottage was closed by then, but we did get a glimpse of the gardens and the famous thatched roof.

So, the day did not match my idyllic dream, and yet I am thankful for the chance to get there at all.  This simply means that I still have reason to go back.  Some day I'll get back there and drag John along as I stroll and meander and nap and drink in and savor to my heart's content. 

You know how in life we reach certain milestones and think, "It's happened.  I've arrived."  Well, today, I feel as though I have reached a mothering milestone.  Today, I sorted through a bag of garbage - potato and carrot peelings, wet paper towels, moldering banana peels, soggy coffee grounds, you get the idea - to look for a napkin-wrapped retainer. 

Ah, yes.  They happen when you least expect it, these milestones. 

I love being a mom. 

(We did find the retainer.  The napkin protected it from the worst, but Johanna still scrubbed it up good before putting it back in her mouth.)

We started off our morning with a tour of important Covenanter sites in the city.  Our guide, Jimmy, was from the Airdrie church and we appreciated his willingness to be our guide. 

We started, of course, with St. Giles Kirk, the church where John Knox preached. 

Statue of the Scottish Reformer himself. 

Stained glass window in St. Giles.  Lower panel depicts John Knox preaching to the congregation. 

This is the grave marker for John Knox's final resting place.  He didn't want any ceremony and his wishes were certainly fulfilled - space number 23 in a car park. 

By contrast, this statue of Charles II, depicted here as a Roman emperor, stands just a few feet away from Knox's parking space. 

 Then we walked over to the Greyfriars' Kirkyard.

The national covenant was signed on a stone close by here, with the castle in the background.  Just up the hill from here to the left is the Covenanter prison where many Covenanters were imprisoned with no provisions or shelter after the Battle of Bothwell Bridge. 

This marks the spot in the Haymarket where many Covenanters were executed.  In many ways, it was a depressing tour, visiting places where Covenanters struggled and died.  But is was also an exciting tour, celebrating people who knew their Lord and were willing to die for Him. 

This gentleman entertained on a busy corner of High Street.  I guess he figured since he had paid for the lessons and full regalia, he may as well make a few pounds from them. 

After some shopping and lunch, we met at the gates to the castle.  We had a few hours to see the castle before we met Colin to return to our youth hostel.

Stirling, like a huge brooch, clasps Highlands
and Lowlands together.
Alexander Smith

Robert the Bruce, looking out toward the field where he won the decisive battle of Bannockburn, stands guard in front of Stirling Castle.

Front gate of the castle.  In some way, it is ironic to have the British flag flying so merrily atop the mount which so many Scots died trying to keep from flying that flag.   What was that?  Um.  A lot of Scottish dudes bit the bullet to keep the English dudes from taking over.  That's clearer, anyway, if not eloquent.

We had a funny tour guide, a lad from Liverpool - he sounded like The Beatles.  We stood in the spitting rain and blustering wind and simulated the bombarding of the castle gates.  "Boooom!"  He was quite a character.   

In the great hall.

They are currently re-creating a set of six tapestries which depict the pursuit and capture of a unicorn.  They have four of them up and hanging in the chapel.  A small workshop is open to the public and we saw them working on the 5th panel of the set.  Fascinating to watch, but painstaking, careful, back-breaking work. 

Looking out from the castle walls toward the William Wallace Monument.  The next day, after church at Airdrie and a chilly picnic lunch at Loch Lomond, busdriver Colin took some of the students over to see the monument.  They climbed up a lot of stairs to get to the top; so many stairs that the gift shop sold tee-shirts to brag about climbing them.  They saw WW's sword and other relics.  The rest of us went to the mall.  I know.  Ugh.  And believe me, Scottish malls are as mind-numbingly horrible as American malls, but when one is wearing uncomfortable shoes and in desperate need of a cup of coffee...one does what one must.  I'm sure there is some sad commentary on modern life in going to the mall after touring the great castle of Stirling or picnicking on the shores of Loch Lomond, but I will leave that to the naysayers.  I am merely a participant, not a philosopher.  I leave the thinking to others. 

One of my summer projects is to give the kitchen a makeover, so last Thursday I started with a coat of paint over the ceiling and walls.  Since then, I've painted a $20 desk and a set of shelves from John's parents and put them together to form my new "office."  There is more to do, but I am really happy with what I've accomplished so far.  See what you think...

And, of course, I have to mention that fourteen years ago today, John and I got married.  Aside from the beastly heat and humidity, it was a lovely day.  And I haven't regretted it.  Yet. 

We started our tour of St. Andrew's in front of Saint Salvador's College, the sight of the first Protestant martyrdom in the city (in Scotland?), the burning of Patrick Hamilton, a young professor of St. Salvador's. 

Dick Kinodel - an American working with churches over there - was our tour guide.

Tom and I allowed ourselves a moment of immaturity by taking a picture of this street sign.  Only a moment, though.

This is the castle where Cardinal Beaton condemned George Wishart to die and where, some time later, Beaton's own body was hung from the walls by an armed band of Protestant reformers.  One of those armed reformers was John Knox, who was eventually captured in this castle and set aboard a French galley.

This is the remains of the St. Andrew's cathedral, built to house the bones of the apostle Andrew after they were cast ashore in this spot following a ship wreck. 

I was surprised by the level of golf madness there in St. A's.  This obelisk is the grave marker for some golf enthusiast, buried in the St. Andrew's churchyard.  Even the great theologian Andrew Melville was bitten with the golf bug and finally had to give up the game all together because it had become an obsession for him!

So, that was our morning.  When our tour was done, we got some lunch and headed on to Stirling.  Can you believe we "headed on to Stirling?"  The more time passes since I got home, the less real the whole thing seems.  Good thing I have all of these pictures and a blog so I can relive the experience! 

Happy Independence Day!  I'm writing a blog entry because I have nothing else to do.  I do not have meat and peach cobbler and plates, knives, forks, spoons, cups, napkins and tablecloths to pack up for a picnic in a couple of hours.  Nothin' but time to reminisce about past Independence Days and write about it.  Ahem. 

So, I was thinking about what a fun holiday the 4th is.  It doesn't have the pressure of Christmas - no gifts to find, no tree to put up and decorate, no significant travel, no 4th of July Eve service to plan and attend.  It's just a great excuse to get together with friends and eat.  I'm all for that.  And it still makes for some great memories. 

Last 4th of July, we had a church picnic at a hot, sticky, crowded, noisy city park and discovered the game "Hit the $2 Plastic Baseball Bat Out of the Tree with Bocce Balls."  Our fellow picnickers seemed to think this an odd sport, but we at Mission OPC like to think of ourselves as innovators.  It will catch on.  Soon.

Two years ago, we were in northern Wisconsin at a friend's cabin.

Three years ago, we were in transit from Pennsylvania to Minnesota.  I have no pictures from that summer and maybe that's just as well! 

Before that, it all becomes a bit hazy. 

I do know that 14 years ago, I spent the 4th of July with New Song in Vermont while John slaved away as a caddy and my mom frantically put together all of the last minute details for my wedding.  Thanks Mom.  Not that anybody remembers any details from the day.  All they remember is the incredible heat and humidity and broken a/c.  But that is well outside the range of this blog post so I won't mention it. 

Today's plan is to go to a quiet park in Stillwater and enjoy the day with our church family.  The weather is sunny and the temp is in the 70s.  These are traditions I could get used to.  Especially the low temps. 

I hope that you are having a great day of grilling and eating and enjoying friends and family.     

Later - I spoke too soon on the sunny part.  It's raining now.   

Much later - After the rain, beautiful, gorgeous evening at a lovely, peaceful, quiet park, then fireworks to cap it off.  This is the good stuff. 

We interrupt this travelogue for a bit of summer. 

The kids - Johanna in particular - have been spending time outside.  This is a good thing.  I encourage this.  All that fresh air and sunshine.  I'm just thinking of their well-being. 

For Sam, being the youngest can sometimes feel like indentured servitude, as demonstrated here.

Sam, aka the rickshaw driver, is pulling Johanna down the street in her chariot.

Of more fun was our day at White Bear Lake last week with some friends.

The kids had fun collecting shells.  William even cracked open a clam shell and everyone investigated the slimy contents, thus concluding our first and last science experiment of the summer. 

Big man!

And finally, in a completely unrelated note, I have to show off my beautiful hanging basket before I kill it off.  Not that I want to kill it, you understand.  It just seems to be the way these things work out.  Something to do with the plague I carry around in my purple thumb. 

Fort William is famous because it acted as a gateway to the Highlands for the British armies which came through in frequent attempts to subdue the wild Highlanders.  So, we followed the well-worn path of the armies and headed to the Highlands after our night in Fort William. 

We got a marvelous taste of Highland history at the Highland Folk Park.  They had many old buildings and exhibits, but the place of greatest interest to me was the "township," re-created to replicate what we might call a village from the 1730s. 

The curators of the park don't actually know a lot about how the Highlanders made their homes.  Most Highlanders of that time were too busy surviving to write much down about how they survived.  Historians and archaeologists have to piece together what they can from the remains of these townships.  This is a living history museum, so there were two "residents" of the township, dressed in period costumes, who could tell us about what we were seeing.  One of the students commented that the place looked like the village from "Braveheart."  The whole place was truly fascinating. 

And beautiful!  The air was so clean and sweet.  I wanted to bottle it and bring it home. 

Our next stop in the Highlands was

Blair Castle.  The flag flying on top of the castle indicates that the 11th duke (of what I don't remember, forgive me!) was in residence.  Turns out the 10th duke died with no immediate heirs, so those who do this sort of thing had to retrace the family tree and go down a different branch to find the 11th duke, living in South Africa and completely unaware that he was about to inherit a dukedom!  So the day we were there, the duke was visiting from S. Africa so that he could muster the only private army in northern Europe, the Highland Atholl.  The grounds were also being prepared for a huge Highland games going on that weekend - what fun it would have been to attend a Highland games in the Highlands!  

The gardens of Blair Castle were as gorgeous as the castle.  Again the air was pure and lovely and one could well understand why, once upon a time, consumptives were sent there to heal. 

The grounds also boasted...

 ...a field of "Heelan' coos!"  (That's Highland cows, in American.)  

After Blair Castle, we drove on to St. Andrew's.  We passed the famous battlefield of Killiecrankie on the way, but did not have time to stop - looked like just a lot of hills and trees anyway.

When we got to St. Andrew's we had some complications with the youth hostel.  Let's just say it made us realize what a nice place we had in Ft. William.  Once that was sorted out, Tom and I headed out to get some supper and see the Old Course.  (Dad, that's golf.)

This is taken from just beside the 18th hole. 

I'm sure this post has taken a long time to load, so I'll just put up one more picture.

This is the town of St. Andrew's, golden in the glow of sunset, seen across the beach where Chariots of Fire was filmed. 

Everything in this post (and more) was seen in one day!  It was impossible to really absorb it all, but pictures and blogging help it to soak in. 

Next time: more St. Andrew's and on to Stirling.

When we got off the ferry in Troon, we got on yet another bus with another driver.  This one was Colin and he was with us for our entire stay in Scotland.  We got kind of attached to Colin.  Colin drove us up to Loch Lomond.  The daylight was beginning to go so we first saw Loch Lomond in the gloaming (above). 

This is the youth hostel where the students stayed.  The students were pretty impressed and by morning, some were convinced it was haunted!  It was probably built during the Victorian era when the queen and Prince Albert made it fashionable to have a Scottish estate in addition to one's "real" estate.  (Get it?  Ha.)

Ben Lomond

Dean, Nancy, Tom and I stayed in a hotel on the water's edge.  This was Loch Lomond at sunset.   

Unfortunately, we had to leave really early in the morning and this was our only chance at Loch Lomond, but at least we had it.  As we wound our way out and over the mountains that morning, there was a thick mist over the loch.  It covered our view of the mountains, but was a satisfyingly Scottish morning. 

Bluebells were out in force all over the roadsides, making for a lovely blue and green carpeting under the forest shade. 

That day we traveled to the island of Iona and St. Columba's monastery there. 

Cloister

When we first arrived, we walked through a light shower of rain, but soon the sun came out and the day was brilliant.  Absolutely gorgeous.  You can see the many colors of blue in the water.

As always when I travel in Europe, I was impressed with a sense of history.  In the U.S., things are old if they are 100 years old, really old if they are 200 years old.  In the U.K., things are old if they are from triple digit years. 

That night, we drove to Fort William.  As we drove along Loch Linnhe, we looked out over the water to see an extraodinary moment in nature.  A huge black stormcloud was dumping gallons (since it was in the U.K., I guess I should say litres).  Immediately next to the torrential downpour, a cloud break of brilliant sunshine created a stark line of contrast between dark and light.  I had never seen anything like this dramatic display of weather.  I'm sure there are some great literary and theological possibilities in that sight, but I'll leave that stuff to you.  We passed Glencoe on our way, site of the famous massacre, but made it safely to Fort William and stayed in a youth hostel there.  Tom and I ate at The Grog and Gruel.  We shared an appetizer of haggis.  As long is one didn't remember whence came the haggis, it was quite appetizing. 

Tomorrow...on to St. Andrew's.  Fore!

For our last day in Ireland, we said goodbye to our lovely host families and boarded the bus to go north.  We drove up to the north coast to the Giant's Causeway, Carrick-a-Rede, and down the coast road to Larne where we boarded the ferry for Scotland.  Another action and breath-taking scenery filled day!

A scene from the north coast.

Giant's Causeway

taken from the cliff above the Giant's Causeway

A hillside along the coast road, part of the Glens of Antrim - the gorse was out in full force all over Ireland, making the land live up to its green and gold reputation. 

Scenery from the Glens of Antrim

Next time...Scotland!

 This was the train station where we caught the train into Belfast.  It looks like something out of Thomas the Tank Engine and I thought Sam might appreciate it. 

When we got into Belfast, we had a few hours to shop.  I took advantage of the "down time" to sit in Starbucks and read a book.  It was quiet and peaceful and I thoroughly enjoyed the time. 

 Belfast town hall with Queen Anne presiding out front. 

 We had a lot of showers during our walking tour, but when the sun managed to shine through, we had some gorgeous moments.

Can't you just imagine the carts and carriages going up and down here, stopping in front of the inns and shops? 

 When we were done in Belfast, we walked back to the train station in a drenching downpour.  We were soaked through, even through rain coats, but the rain couldn't dampen our sense of adventure.  We enjoyed our day in Belfast anyway. 

Sorry I'm so slow about this!  I have not yet hit any "lazy days of summer" so this could take a while.  Loading this page could also take a while - there are a lot of pictures - but I think it will be worth it once they load.   

The next day was Sunday and we took the train into Dublin.  We worshiped with an inner city mission church of the Church of Ireland.  At one point, the pastor asked Tom and Dean to come forward and explain a bit about Geneva, what we were doing there, and the state of the church in the U.S. 

We really enjoyed worshiping with this diverse, international church.

We had lunch at the Epicurean Food Hall which offered a fascinating variety of ethnic foods. 

Then our walking tour began.  In the rain. 

The highlight of this day - for me, anyway - was going to Trinity College and seeing the Book of Kells.  Amazing.  Absolutely amazing. 

This is the only part of Dublin Castle which survives from the Middle Ages - this tower was built under King John's auspices.  The "Castle" now is really an elegant Georgian palace, still used for important state occasions.  More rain.

St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin.  This is where Jonathan Swift was dean for many years and he and Stella are buried there.  Still more rain. 

Interior of St. Patrick's.  It was a bit crowded - everyone was trying to get out of the rain, I think. 

The next day, we went to Newgrange, a pre-historic temple mound.  Well, we went to the visitors' center.  We didn't have time to go out to the mound itself.  We did have time to check out a trail, though, which led across a bridge spanning the Boyne River.  You may know the Battle of the Boyne, the last big battle between William of Orange and James the Loser (that's his name, right?). 

The river looked peaceful enough this day; downright bucolic, in fact.

We stopped in Armagh to see St. Patrick's Cathedral (C of I).  The church stands where St. Patrick had his first church, where he preached. 

It is also the final resting place of Brian Boru, the first man to unite Ireland under one king.

From there, we drove up past Belfast and to Carrickfergus.

A few of us got friendly with the guards.

I made him blush.  Or maybe it was just the reflection from my coat. 

We had a little rain and a little shine for our tour of the castle.  Steven was an excellent tour guide.  He let us try on armor and hold a broadsword and cool stuff like that.  He drew the line at jousting, sadly.  I was hoping to take on my brother. 

From there, we hot-footed it back toward Belfast to meet our host families from the Trinity RPC and had a quiet evening.

Okay, Day 2 will have to stand on its own because we saw so much!

Ross Castle.  Gone was the beautiful weather from the day before and we got to try out all of our new rain gear.  We didn't take the time to go into the castle, but went up close and saw some.  This was our first official castle of the tour, so I think we all have some pictures of it.

Ross Castle

Cahir Castle.  The only time this castle fell to enemy hands by force was in 1599 when Exeter made his ill-fated expedition to Ireland.  There are still cannon balls stuck in the walls. 

The Rock of Cashel.  This rocky outcropping was a strategic defensive position and shows evidence of centuries of occupation.  We had a very wet, blustery tour of the roofless ruins.  This was our Irish baptism.

The monks here were professional musicians - 8 of them - paid to perform beautiful music for the Lord every day.  Not a bad gig, I think. 

This is the ruins of a monestary down the hill from Cashel.  Originally, it was a Benedictine Abbey, but the story we were told was that the Archbishop at Cashel had a dream one night that a line of black-robed Benedictine monks wound their way up the hill and murdered him in his bed, so he evicted the Benedictines and installed the less-threatening, brown-robed Cistercian monks.  It probably had to do with politics or taxes or something, but it's a good story. 

Finally, we stopped at St. Brigid's in Kildare.  There is a wishing stone at one corner of the building which supposedly grants your wish if you put your arm through the hole and touch your shoulder.  None of us found the rock in time to try it out, so we may never know if it's true!

One of the best things this day was four of us going into King Cormac's chapel at Cashel and then St. Brigid's and singing the 23rd Psalm.  The chapel was quite small and the sound was amazing with the four of us in the tiny chancel.  I tried to record a bit of it on my camera, but unfortunately "The Alto" was too close to the microphone and ruined the effect.  It was beautiful in memory, though.

As was the whole day.     

I got home late last Saturday night after a wonderful time of adventure and fun.  There's really too much to tell and we'd all lose interest before I was done.  But I will share a few pictures and tell a little bit.  If you want to know more, just ask. 

This is the Dingle Peninsula in southwestern Ireland.  This was our first day in Ireland and we were all hungover with jet lag, but the day was one of the prettiest you could ask for and the scenery was stunning, so it was worthwhile to fight through the sleep deprivation.  Even our bus driver commented over and over about the gorgeous weather.  We could see islands far out to sea (Skellig Michael) and, across the bay, the Kerry Mountains.  The water was as blue as it looks it here and the sun was bright and warm.   

Okay, we've covered...Day 1.  Don't worry, the other days will go faster.  Maybe.  I hope.  You hope. 

John and the kids survived - did very well, in fact.  Sadly, we sent Mom home sick after her week here, but we sure appreciate her help. 

I'm so thankful for the opportunity to go.  It really was a wonderful trip.  And I'm equally glad to be home now with my family. 

Several months ago, my brother told me about a trip he was planning for a college Humanities class in the spring of '09 and asked if I would like to go along as a chaperone.  Uh, no, not really, I have no interest in travelling to Ireland, Scotland and England (including Stratford-on-Avon) for 2+ weeks. 

Reluctantly, I agreed.  We leave tomorrow.

I'm not excited at all.  Rather blase about the whole thing, really.  Ho hum.  This is, after all, a working trip, you understand.  I'm a chaperone and I take my responsibilities very seriously.  I probably won't sleep a wink the whole time.  I will dedicate myself to caring for the students entrusted to me.

Okay, I'll stop.  You're not fooled anyway!  I'm wildly excited!  My stomach has been in nervous upheaval for a while now and may only subside when I return home!  I'm thinking in exclamation points! 

So, I won't be blogging for a while, but  when I return, I will regale you with tales of my travels.  Ad nauseum.  I'll even throw in a couple of references to inside jokes just to be really annoying.   

In the meantime, please pray for John and the kids as they fend for themselves!  And join me in praising the Lord for a husband who is brave enough to let his wife go halfway around the world and leave him alone with 4 young children for 2+ weeks!  Lest you worry about him too much, though, my mom is coming next Saturday to stay for the week and several people from church have already offered to help out - my sociable kids are going to want me to go away more often!  I'm sure they'll all be fine and I am so thankful for the opportunity to go on my big trip.