First Time in Toledo!

Yesterday afternoon, my granddaughter #2, Heather, and I, had a pleasant drive from Lexington, Kentucky, U.S.A., north to Toledo, Ohio.  The traffic was extremely heavy and construction delays were frequent.  It was so easy to only have to travel on one road, I-75.  That hardly ever happens.

Ohio is almost one big cornfield!  Other than the mega-cities of Cincinnati and Dayton, and the smaller cities such as Piqua ("pick-wa"), Ohio is mostly flat.  The corn looks good, somewhat dry in places, but there's lots of it.  The farms here are much grander than those in my Kentucky, but not as awesome as the ranches in Texas.

We're visiting Heather's mother, my daughter #4, Theresa.  Last night we enjoyed an especially fine, authentic Italian dinner at Dibenedettos in Bowling Green.  Later we indulged in sundaes at Mel-O-Creme, also in Bowling Green.  This is a walk-up-to-the-window take-out eatery.  My sundae was Pumpkin Creme.

Heather and Theresa

We have a fun, special day planned for tomorrow!

Blog Decision Made

For many years I've moved all my hundreds of issues of National Geographic Magazines.  My intention was to ultimately read through each and every one of them, starting from the earliest, a 1929 issues inherited from my grandparents (see this blog, Wednesday, May 15, "The Collection").

OK, I've made a good start since retiring from nursing on June 3rd, this year.  I've read through and reported on six issues from the 1920s.  This effort has been immensely more interesting and enjoyable that I had imagined it would be!

The next issue in my collection is from 1949.  Twenty years is too far a gap for me to bridge in the world of changing political boundaries, historical happenings, famous people, critical advances in biology and other sciences, in short, life in the world around me.  My 1920 issues refer to what we call World War I as "The World War."  I need to see what led up to the development of World War II, especially since I was born in the middle of it, in 1943.

What I have done is purchase a DVD collection of ALL National Geographic Magazines.  I prefer to have magazine in hand, however, perusing the issues by computer also has its advantages.  If I need to research a term or place, Google is ever nearby!

So, that is how I will continue.  My first online adventure will be a trip to the State of Florida, USA.  Keep watching!

American Southwest Secrets Revealed

In the last article of the December, 1929, issue of National Geographic Magazine, Andrew Ellicott Douglass, Sc.D., tells of his meticulous research to prove that analyzing tree rings can ascertain the age of wood and thereby date human structures, weather, and even weather conditions.  "The Secret of the Southwest Solved by Talkative Tree Rings: Horizons of American History are Carried Back to A.D. 700 and a Calendar for 1,200 Years" is this chronicle.

Dr. Douglass was an astronomer studying sun spots. At that time, it was known that "there is a periodicity in their occurrence; they are most numerous at intervals of eleven years.  As an aid in that astronomical investigation, I studied trees, for solar changes affect our weather, and weather in turn affects the trees in Arizona's dry climate, as elsewhere" (p. 742-743).  He worked in the ruins of Indian civilizations in the States of Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah.

We now take this research for granted but in 1929, it was a wonderful revelation. What I found more interesting in this article were the 'collateral' things Dr. Douglass learned in his journeys. He roamed many Indian ruins but also visited many current Indian villages and had to deal with the natives.  How fascinating that he found many ancient logs, the larger ones, had been taken from ruins and transported great distances to serve in building newer structures!  There is not an abundance of trees in the Southwest desert even now.  What Dr. Douglass and his team did was to take core samples from the older logs and pieces of wood.  Then they could analyze the tree rings.

The pine and Douglas fir trees were the most reliable source of information. "Every year the trees in our forests show the swing of Time's pendulum and put down a mark.  They are chronographs, recording clocks, by which the succeeding seasons are set down through definite imprints.  Every year each pine adds a layer of new wood over its entire living surface of trunk and branches. . . If every year were exactly the same, growth rings would tell the age of the tree and little more.  Only in rare cases would they record exceptional events of any interest to us.  But a tree is not a mechanical robot: it is a living thing, and its food supply and adventures through life all enter into its diary.  A flash of lightning, a forest fire, insect pests or a falling neighbor may make strong impressions on its life and go into its diary" (p. 741).

Of course, if an Indian village was abandoned, such as that of the cliff dwellers in Colorado, the researchers could enter in and select the specimens that were the best.  If they had heard of large or old logs in occupied dwellings, that was another story.  Dr. Douglass had to convince the Indians to let him take a sample.  Compounding the problem was communication: the Indians knew very few English words and Dr. Douglass and his team knew very little of their native languages.  Gestures were frequently used.

In time, although most Indian males would cooperate with the scientific investigation, the women wanted compensation!  Several times Dr. Douglass would have to fill a hole made by coring a log with turquoise "to prevent the lodgment of the 'spirit of decay' in the timber" (p. 753).  The team found a log that was in continuous use for more than 500 years.

Dr. Douglass concluded that "The successful dating of the many ruins of the pueblo area that this research has made possible enables us now to correlate the increases of rainfall that permitted these villages to expand and the drought years that placed upon them the heavy hand of starvation" (p. 770).

As I was engaged in a small part of a research project at my hospital, one of more than 200 hospitals around the world doing the same research, in the two years before my retirement, I can fully appreciate all the care the Douglass team put into their work.  Every part of the statistics had to be perfectly documented.  The patient selection criteria for this sepsis (blood infection) study were extremely narrow.  The National Geographic Society financed Dr. Douglass' study.  A European medical company with a multi-billion dollar income is financing this particular research.  It will be four years before we find out the results.  Research takes patience!

Day Trip: Back Four Hundred Million Years!

While learning my Kentucky history and geography in the 1950s, I often wondered why Louisville (Kentucky, U.S.A.) turned out to be one of the largest cities on the long Ohio River.  Today, I got the answer: the Ohio River Falls.  This was "a series of rapids caused by water flowing over ledges of hard limestone composed of vast numbers of fossils.  The first rapids began in front of what is now downtown Louisville and continued to Sand Island, a distance of 2.5 miles and a drop of 26 feet.  When Dam was built in the 1920s, the river's flow was restricted and most of the rapids were covered with water" (Falls of the Ohio State Park brochure).  ALL boats HAD to stop in Louisville or risk perishing in the rapids!

My son, John, and I had wanted to visit this park for a long time.  I can't believe that even though I was born and raised in Louisville, I had never gone there.  Back then, 'field trips' for school children were few and far between.  We also visited my in-laws, John, Janie, and their pup, Haley.

The Dam at the Ohio River Falls, finished in 1927, was the first long concrete wall in the world.  This was a model for other engineers to know "it can be done."  The Dam still holds up today.  When the Ohio River Floods, it is covered.  But mostly, the many fossil beds are visible.

Falls of the Ohio State Park, Clarksville, Indiana, U.S.A.: exposed fossil beds. Concrete dam 'wall' in center of photo.

In the Park "Interpretive Center"/museum is an extremely well done history of the habitat of seas, near glaciers, ancient marine and wildlife in the falls area.  The movie depicting this history was excellent.  In the entrance was a skeleton of a 5-ton Mastadon.

John, son #2, meets the Mastadon skeleton.

Me, Jan, in front of the mural showing the Ohio River rapids before dam construction.

The museum also exhibits local history of settlement and manufacturing.  Clarksville, Indiana, was named after General George Rogers Clark, one of the primary explorers of western America.

Statue of the meeting of George Rogers Clark & Meriwether Lewis.  From here, they explored the American continent clear to the Pacific Ocean

.

Lastly, the museum contains a gift shop with a good selection of geodes and fossils.  There is a nice picnic area.

Louisville skyline and bridge across the Ohio River as seen from the Park's observation deck.

My dear in-laws, Janie & John, at lunch today.

Haley, the friendly, beautiful, polite pup.

Next on our 'Wish List' of local places to visit is the river 'Locks', through which all river boats and barges must pass to continue on the river.  It's directly across from the Falls of the Ohio State Park, on the Kentucky side of the river.

The Trip That Didn't Happen

Since this week we are celebrating the 50th anniversary of the late Dr. Martin Luther King's famous "I Have a Dream" speech, I thought of a trip 48 years ago that I wanted to make.  When I heard about the Civil Rights March proposed in 1965 from Selma, Alabama, I really, really wanted to be a part. I lived in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky.   At the time, my first child was one year old.  Her birthday was March 25th, the day the march finally took place. I thought about leaving her at home, I thought about taking her with me, either option being difficult since my husband had to work.  What finally stopped me from going was lack of money.  There just wasn't any room in the budget for trips where you had to stay in a motel.

However, my sympathies were with the Civil Rights movement.  We had two black friends when we lived in Norfolk, Virginia, from September through December, 1963.  There were a lot of things I didn't understand, but came to understand.  When we went over to their house, there were no problems or uncomfortable feelings.  But when the couple came to our house, an apartment in former Navy World War II barracks in an all-white neighborhood, they were extremely uncomfortable going from their car to our house, frequently looking around.  There is no problem with that now as my neighborhood here in Lexington, Kentucky, U.S.A., has many black folks and people of other races living here.

There were two times in my life I cried because of unjust laws.  The first happened when the U.S. Supreme Court struck down state laws protecting unborn babies in January, 1973.  Horrible!  That unleashed a flood of baby-killing resulting in 55 million abortions since then in the United States alone!

The second time I cried, really openly and uncontrollably wept, was several years ago when my youngest daughter #8, Jeannie, and I visited the Henry Ford Museum in Detroit, Michigan, and went inside the historic bus where Rosa Parks decided to take a stand against black riders having to sit in the back. I sat in the bus seats, listened to a tape of Rosa explaining what happened and could almost feel that the bus was filled and I was there.  It was too much for me to bear!  After being comforted by Jeannie and crying on her shoulder, she asked me, "What's going on?"  I gathered enough calmness to respond, "I just don't see how those people could do this to other people!"

So, have we made Civil Rights progress?  From my point of view, we have made tremendous progress!  I know of at least one hospital where all races are respected, the one I retired from - two of my direct supervisors were black women.  Nearly half of my unit's nurses are black.  We had a good time working and chatting!  Surely we could all agree that there has been much legal progress.

But then, there is a lot of work to be done when close to 75% of black children conceived in New York City are killed by abortion yearly.  When Margaret Sanger started pushing birth control in the 1930's, she specifically wanted to totally get rid of the black race.  Looks like they 'bought' this, to their peril.  I was surprised when the number of Hispanics in the U.S. surpassed the number of blacks. Somehow, we have to support black families, prevent everyone's abortions by helping the young women and men act responsibly.

Since I've recently retired, I get to choose what volunteer work I'd like to do.  I was walking around my neighborhood and walked in front of our brand-new elementary school.  I thought, "I think I'd like to help the young ones learn to read."  Then it occurred to me, "They probably have a lot of support at home, I should seek out a school in a poorer neighborhood."

I don't have any answers, I don't have any grand plans.  My deepest feeling knows that "One Person Can Make a Difference!"  Consider the story about Starfish: "A man on the beach where thousands of starfish lay dying in the sun saw a girl tossing them into the sea, one by one.  "Why bother?" he asked.  "You won't make much of a difference." 

Tossing yet another starfish into the sea, the girl said, "I made a difference to that one."  (from a Nephrology Nursing conference 2012).  Could we each be starfish tossers?

"P" help #4: Money

A good practice is to take more cash - American dollars - with you when you travel than you think you'll need.  Better to be prepared in case of the unforeseen emergency!  I try more and more to spend less on souvenirs.  At least I have to think: is it lightweight enough and small enough to fit in the suitcase and not go over the weight limit?

Once, on a very special occasion, a dear friend's daughter's wedding, I had some crystal goblets shipped from Ireland.  It cost more, but they arrived at home intact, on time.

If you're going to a foreign country, you'll want to get some cash in that country's currency.  You can buy this from your bank but please do this several weeks before your trip.  Once I made the mistake of asking the bank clerk to order a particular number of dollars' worth, say, $200, worth of Euros.  When I went to pick it up, I found she had brought 200 Euros!  This cost considerably more than the  $200 worth of Euros.  She said they couldn't be returned.  Lesson learned!  Now I make all requests in writing and keep a copy.

I didn't spend the 200 Euros on my trip.  At the airport, I looked at the exchange rate.  It was better than that of my bank back home!  I cashed them in and actually made money.

Get familiar with the paper money and coins of your new country's cash so you'll know if you get the proper change when purchasing an item. Don't forget to save all receipts.  Some foreign countries will give you the tax you spent back when you leave.

Keep most of your cash, both dollars and the foreign country's currency, in your money belt.  See this blog, August 13, 2013, "P" help #3: I.D., Passport, Credit cards.

I've never been with anyone who has had their purse snatched or wallet pick-pocketed in a foreign country.  For men: if you're keeping your wallet in your back pocket, wrap several thick rubber bands around it.  This makes it harder to take out.  Women, keep that purse very close to your body, a shoulder strap is good, everything zippered is good.  Lastly, look out for each other!

Planning Day!

These United States of America have wonderful treasures of expansive scenery, historical sites, but most of all, our people with our collective energy and patriotism.  I'm making a list of our fifty states and noting which ones I need to explore.  In front of me, propped up on my desk, is the National Geographic 2006 map of "The United States."

Let's see: east of the mighty Mississippi River, the only states I have not physically set foot in are Iowa, Minnesota, and Vermont. FYI:  I am not including states like Arizona, which I have only stopped in at an airport (Phoenix).  Besides my home state of Kentucky, the states I know best are Virginia and North Carolina.  Indeed, my car could probably drive east on I-64 to Norfolk by itself!

West of the Mississippi, I've visited Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Oklahoma and Texas at different times.  On the west coast, there was one trip to Washington last year and many to California, including a visit to Nevada, when my beloved parents lived there.  And my trip to Hawaii several weeks ago is so fresh in my mind that I dumped out even more Hawaii sand from my beach shoes at Lake Cumberland this week!

When I break it down this way, it doesn't seem like such an enormous wish to want to visit every state.  What is left to visit: Iowa, Minnesota, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, Utah, Nebraska, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Oregon and Alaska.  That's a total of 14 states left out of our 50 states.

Speaking of Alaska, my parents took a cruise there once upon a time.  They had cruised and traveled all over the Mediterranean, Caribbean, and Europe, with an annual Hawaiian cruise on their December 26th Wedding Anniversary.  I asked mom, "Which one was yuour very favorite cruise?"  She didn't even have to think on this.  Mom immediately replied, "Alaska!  You can't imagine how beautiful it is."  I hope I may go there also.

It is not too early to begin thinking about a big trip for next summer. . .or several big trips!

Just as the AAA travel agent didn't hesitate an instant when I asked for help with my journey from Lexington, Kentucky, to Florida, through Alabama and Mississippi to New Orleans, Louisiana, then to Texas, next home through Arkansas and Tennessee with a side trip to Hanceville, Alabama, I don't expect there would be a problem with a long trip west.

In two separate trips, Ive driven the length of I-95, on the east coast, as far north as Portland, Maine, and as far south as Port St. Lucie, Florida.  I would really like to wander up the west coast on I-5 and US-101.

Will keep you posted as plans unveil in the coming months!

A Pre-Trip to Israel

How appropriate in the December, 1929, issue of National Geographic Magazine it was to include an article on "Bethlehem and the Christmas Story."  This was particularly relevant to me since I have reservations to visit Israel this coming October.  It will be interesting to compare notes with the author, John D. Whiting.

Israel may surprise me, but I doubt that, in 2013, "Camels still come laden to the place where Jesus was born," as they did in 1929.  "Donkeys, much in use to pack light burdens, are drinking at the centuries-old rock trough at the cistern mouth.  The milch goats have been brought here for sale" (photo caption, p. 702).

As another photo caption (p. 704) tells, "Mountain paths to Bethlehem have changed little in 2,000 years."  I expect these paths to be guarded highways now.

Also amazing were the area's agricultural practices in 1929, "Primitive methods of reaping prevail in "the House of Bread" (photo caption, p. 705).  Modern Israel boasts of more than a few farms using technology without soil, dripping water and nutrients to suspended plants.  "When reaping is done with the sickle, many ears of wheat are dropped.  The owners of the fields follow the Biblical injunction and permit the poor to glean first.  Sheep are then driven into the stubble to pick up what remains on the ground" (photo caption, p, 706).

Mr. Whiting attended a wedding in the Church of the Nativity, "one of the oldest existing churches in Christendom, if not the oldest, one of the few used in common by the three Eastern denominations and revered by all sects of Christianity.  The best authorities doubt not that it stands on or close to the site where Jesus was born and the place of the first Christmas" (p. 707).

Remember Jesus' words, "I know my sheep and my sheep know me?"  Bethlehem area shepherds call their sheep in the early morning with each shepherd then going in a different direction.  "Though the calls sound exactly alike to the uninitiated, the animals never mistake their master's voice or follow a stranger" (photo caption, p. 726).

Mr. Whiting spent a lot of time with the shepherds.  "To know Christmas in Bethlehem, one should pass it not in the old churches, historically interesting though they be, but under the star-studded dome of the great out-of-doors, with the shepherds watching over the flocks in the field by night" (p. 734).

Politics was not addressed in this story, although a photo on Color Plate VIII showed three members of the British desert border patrol.  They are pictured with their three camels next to a "cistern beside the road leading from the east to Bethlehem (called) the Well of the Magi."  The caption reads, "Here the three Wise Men halted to water their camels."  The area Mohammedans were friendly and helpful to Mr. Whiting.

Now the town of Bethlehem is located in Israel on the highly contested West Bank of Jordan.  Israelis are not allowed to visit but tourists are encouraged to come.  I very much look forward to visiting it on the tour to Israel!

Good-bye to Lake Cumberland - but not forever!

Since I had lived in Pam's Treehouse Cabin on Lake Cumberland for several days, I became acquainted with the many mounted fish her family had caught over the years, and also with the lone deer head.  This is fishing and hunting country par excellence!  I took two photos so I would remember.

The only Fish on a Log; the rest are on the walls in nearly every room.

The Lone Deer appears to be watching us at all times.

It was my unhappy task to pack and leave for the trip back home immediately after breakfast.  Alas, I had a noon appointment in Lexington to attend.  Pam and I gave hugs and said our good-byes.  We plan on meeting in Louisville next month.  "Some friends are Silver, some Friends are Gold.  Keep the Silver.  Keep the Gold."  Pam is Gold!

Of Deer and a Dam (Lake Cumberland, Day 4, August 21, 2013)

Pam and I put on our swimsuits and beach shoes and headed down to the boat.  Thunder!  Dark clouds!  After grumbling a bit about the weather, we went home to Pam's Treehouse cabin.  Later in the afternoon we traveled to the Lure Lodge at the Cumberland State Park.  We forgot the lodge is in a different time zone and we were too early for dinner.

Lure Lodge, Lake Cumberland State Park, Kentucky.

 
The winding roads in the forested area were dark and we had hoped to see some of the abundant deer population.  We explored the various cabin areas, recreation areas, and docks.  We were rewarded by a fawn in the middle of the road.  It ran off too quickly for a photo but it was beautiful, with a white-spotted brown coat.  Bambi!

The buffet dinner was quite superior and we enjoyed a table at the windows with the lake view.

View of Lake Cumberland from Lure Lodge Dining Room.

Pam at the feast in the large Lure Lodge Dining Room.

Jan in front of Lure Lodge's giant fireplace after dinner.

The Overlook high over the state park's marina was next on our agenda.  On the opposite side of the lake was the Jamestown Marina where we visited yesterday.  I thought the Jamestown Marina's number of boats was high but there were hundreds of boats in the Cumberland State Park Marina.  It was quite impressive!

Part of the huge Cumberland State Park Marina.

Next, over more winding roads and we reached the Wolf Creek Dam.  I never in my life had seen this Dam.  It is tall and wide and impressive.  In the next photo, note the high level of water to the right of the dam and the Cumberland River to the left.

Wolf Creek Dam, holding back Lake Cumberland and flowing back to the Cumberland River.

At last we saw another deer in one of the lower roads in the dam area.  I managed to snap a photo.

Deers never linger!

We watched the sunset behind a nearby hill and started the ride back to Pam's treehouse. The new moon was huge, just over the horizon, and orange.  What a pleasant day we enjoyed together!

New moon over Kentucky.  Can you see the outline of the trees?

A Long Boat Trip (Lake Cumberland, Day 3, August 20, 2013)

Our goal today was to explore many of the coves around Lake Cumberland, looking for waterfalls, have lunch at the Wolf Creek Marina, and eventually wind up at the Jamestown Marina to feed the turtles and go shopping. There were hardly any other boats on this incredibly big, wonderfully beautiful lake - the children are all in school now and the families have returned home.

An actual, certifiable neophyte at boating, I am, but I caught on quickly to helping with untying the ropes that keep the boat tied to the dock and jumping on the boat quickly to avoid falling in the water while the Captain, Pam, backed the boat out of the dock. 

We went very slowly at first.  I thought it was rather nice, that it was all the speed that the boat was capable of attaining.  Wrong!  After passing the white buoys (plastic things floating in the water that look like big milk bottles) marking the 'no wake zone', as Pam explained to me, she revved up the motor and we flew!  FYI:  if you're an ignorant boater like me, 'no wake' has nothing to do with sleep.  It means the boats have to go really slow so they don't make waves to bump the big, expensive boats in the marinas or even damage the marinas themselves.

Inside the marina it is cool and dark.

 We drove around many different inlets, or coves.  I can post photos and could even take a video for you but I couldn't capture the refreshing pure scent of the lake and the heady sweet smell of the wildflowers.  The various rock formations were interesting, with much black slate but mostly tan and whitish limestone.  We would have liked to have grabbed some of the interesting pieces of driftwood.

There were no active waterfalls but several times Pam turned the motor off when we saw wet cliffs.  We could hear the water dripping but it wasn't enough for a waterfall.

Lake Cumberland is our private lake today.

The Wolf Creek Marina, restaurant, gift shop, and boat filling station.

The Marina at Wolf Creek looked brand new.  A clerk said it had recently been renovated.  An attendant filled up the boat's gas tank (I helped tie the boat to the dock!).  Then Pam and I ate a fine fish lunch at the Fish Tales Restaurant.  I had a fried cod sandwich and Pam ordered fish tacos.  We both had the french fried sweet potatoes.  Yum!

Pam in front of the Fish Tales restaurant.

At the gift shop afterwards, I was a big spender for souvenirs.  I bought two green palm-tree-shaped can openers, one for Pam, one for me, at the exorbitant price of $1.50 each.  It rained while we were eating, then stopped when we finished our meal.  We wouldn't have cared if we got wet - it was warm and we were having fun!

Pam found her favorite island for swimming.  It is green with grass, treeless, and fairly flat.  We will try to go swimming there tomorrow.

Pam's Favorite Island in Lake Cumberland.

It was a long way to the Jamestown Marina.  Pam said it was a lot closer to boat there than if we had driven the winding roads.  Compared to the Pleasant Hill and Wolf Creek Marinas, the Jamestown Marina is huge.  The city of Jamestown has built a good-sized lodge on the hill behind the marina.

The large Jamestown Marina.

It was harder tying up the boat to the pier here.  At one point, Pam warned me, "Jan, DON'T fall between the boat and the dock!"  We shopped at the store.  I bought a blue glass Christmas ornament shaped like a fishing float.  To the rear of the store, outside, is the Turtle Feeding Station.

The Turtles expected to be fed before we dropped in anything!

Near the Turtle Feeding Station are dispensers of the appropriate feeding pellets.  They crawled over each other to get the pellets first!  There was one very big (2 feet long? 3 feet?) catfish vying with the turtles for food.  They usually won but the big blue fish gulped several pellets.

City of Jamestown Lodge, Lake Cumberland.

We drove around the various sections of the marina.  There was one sailboat among the big and bigger boats, some even three levels tall.  We noticed that most were from Kentucky and Ohio but several came from the State of Florida.

The Lone Sailboat at Jamestown Marina.

The trip home didn't seem as long as the trip going to the farthest Marina.  The sun came out and the water sparkled.  There were several passing boats and we waved to them.

The boat creates a nice wake behind us at top speed!

At the treehouse home, we were tired and grabbed a cold drink before a simple dinner of the rest of the zucchini soup and toast.  A few TV cops-and-spies shows and we were ready for bed.  All the good guys won.

Picnic! (Lake Cumberland, Day 2, August 19, 2013)

What a perfect day for a picnic on a boat: warm but not hot, a bright blue sky with slow, tall, fluffy clouds, and hardly anyone at the marina close to Pam's cabin on the lake.  She has a medium-sized houseboat.  It was wonderful to have the leisure to be able to take a bit of food and soft drinks and notice the few passing boats we call 'traffic.'

At one point, we saw an object floating.  It was long and slightly wavy.  Was it a snake?  Was it a piece of driftwood?  When we came closer, we judged it to be driftwood.

In addition to barnswallows, we saw lake turtles, butterflies, and small fish.  The lake water is green and somewhat murky.

Pleasant Hill Marina at Lake Cumberland - private, 73 slips.

Pam beside her houseboat.

Later, we drove north to the town of Russell Springs to pick up a few things for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow: sour cream for the soup, bagels, and replacement batteries. Preston, the teenage checkout guy, was super-speedy and we complimented him, "You get the world's record for fast checkers."  He was quite pleased.

Dinner was superb: zucchini soup with a dollop of sour cream.  I asked Pam for the recipe.  She told me how to cut up the zucchini and carrots, but first cook the chopped onions till they were very soft, crush a couple of cloves of garlic, add a little bit of this and a pinch of that and then put everything in the food processor.  Oh, oh!  No quantities, "Well, I just put in what I have," she admitted.  Pam is one of those creative cooks who manages to produce a banquet with whatever is in the kitchen, unlike me, who am an utter slave to recipes.  I knew I'd never duplicate the soup so I just enjoyed every spoonful!

We considered driving around "deer watching" but changed our minds and settled into the comfy couch in front of the big TV in the "treehouse" room. For a fleeting two seconds, we saw a squirrel run up a branch but that was all the activity outside.  It is such a treat to have absolute silence for a while - no vehicular traffic, no loud lawnmowers, no construction truck 'beep-beeping' when they're backing up, no emergency sirens, no jets overhead, not even an unhappy dog barking, no nothing.  Utter peace!

Lake Cumberland, Kentucky, U.S.A. (Day 1, August 18, 2013)

My girlhood friend, Pam, told me, "Don't put the address (of her cabin on the lake) into your GPS.  You won't find it.  Put in (the name of a nearby road). . .and drive on the road beside the Baptist Church.  It's #16, the one in the middle."  Oh, sure.  The 'cabin' has been in Pam's family since 1958.  This is 2013.  The road is on the map.

Nope, she was right.  I thought wrongly.  The address is not is the GPS system.  This is remote!  I need to add, delightfully remote!

Pam's from Louisville, Kentucky, on the Ohio River, and I'm from Lexington, in the central part of Kentucky.  We grew up in Louisville, living several blocks apart, going to the same grade school and high school, being bridesmaids in each others' weddings, not visiting frequently but keeping in touch.  We were even pregnant with our last children together at age 40.

So this visit, only possible since we're both retired, is very, very special.  We met at the 'cabin', which is really a good-sized house, in the afternoon.  After unpacking, Pam gave me a quick tour of the house.  The best feature is the living room with its wall of windows facing the forest.  Built on the side of a hill, it's like living in a tree-house! 

This two-story, three bathroom, two bedroom house, was not what I had expected.  It lacks none of the usual amenities.  It is not 'camping.'  This is living rather well, on the lake.

First view of Lake Cumberland, Sunday, August  18, 2013.

The lone, newly launched boat on Lake Cumberland, Sunday.

Pam and I drove around the lake area close to the cottage. Lake Cumberland itself is just as picturesque as I remember it. It is a huge lake, 101 miles long, one mile across at its widest, built by the Army Corps of Engineers in 1952 for flood control.   The lake's shoreline is longer than that of the entire state of Florida!

There is nothing commercial of any nature here, no stores, no gas stations, no signs, not even a plane overhead.  This is quite refreshing!  There is a golf course upon which no one is playing.  We enjoy looking at all the lake 'cabins', some humble, some gated and grand, all different and interesting.  Nearly all the dwellings are built on the side of a ridge, two-stories on the lake front, one five stories tall.

While Pam fixed an incredible dinner of cabbage/tomato/turkey over mashed potatoes, tossed salad and cornbread, we chatted.  We shared joys and concerns about our families, our churches, our country and our world.  We lingered at dinner and relished every crumb.  For a time, we looked out on the forest.  There were several busy squirrels finishing up their daily runs.  The living room windows are so high off the ground that Pam leaves the blinds open to the forest view.

For a while, we channel-surfed on the giant TV.  We stopped to watch "Duck Dynasty."  I had never seen it but many in my family recommended it as really funny.  At times, we laughed ourselves to tears! It is good to hear folks talk just like us Kentuckians! 

The both of us probably ought to be tired from driving, especially Pam, but we don't feel sleepy and talk till 1:30 a.m.  Good night!

Want to Go on a River Cruise?

For years when I contemplated my retirement, I planned a river cruise down the Danube River in Germany.  Later I decided to stay in the States and went on a three-week driving trip through Florida to New Orleans then to Texas and finally home to Lexington, Kentucky, U.S.A.  (See this blog, June 6 through 26, 2013).

So now, I'll find out part of what I missed.  Author, Melville Chater, will take us on "The Danube, Highway of Races: From the Black Forest to the Black Sea, Europe's Most Important River Has Borne the Traffic of Centuries."  This is the first article in the December, 1929, issue of National Geographic Magazine.

Mr. Chater began his adventure at the western end of the Danube at Turnu-Severin (on the Black Sea) with a crisis.  He missed his boat and had to catch a Hungarian tug boat through the Iron Gate, "a wild swirl of waters, before whose terrific face our progress more and more resembled the freak feat of trying to mount a descending escalator" (p. 643).  "This mighty river's navigable length is nearly 1,600 miles and it serves seven nations on its course" (p. 644).

Finally Mr. Chater decided to stay with the tug boat, the Patria, after getting official permission from the international river police.  After leaving Belgrade (now named Serbia and Montenegro), the Patria was towing sixteen "enormously large barges" (p. 650).

FYI: "For five centuries the Roman eagles ruled over the entire Danube - a unifying achievement that has not been repeated in 2,000 years" (p. 647).

The Patria docked at Budapest, Hungary, "one of the loveliest of European cities," in Mr. Chater's words (p. 654).  The city is actually Buda, on one bank of the river, and Pest on the other bank.  What a surprise to read that there were long-horned cattle round-ups "that could have hardly been equaled by our West at its wildest, in Hungary (p. 659).

It's been very difficult for me to follow the course Mr. Chater took on my 2005 Map of Europe (from National Geographic) because the "Map of Europe and the Near East, special supplement with this number of National Geographic Magazine" (p. 645) has long been missing - 40 years?  50 years?  On the 2005 map, I see "Mouths of the Danube" listed but no origin city of "Turnu-Severin."

The Patria chugged on to Pressburg, which fortunately is the subtitle of Bratislava.  It looks on the map to be located in Slovakia, Austria or the Czech Republic.  I googled it to be in Slovakia.

FYI: Concerning Pressburg and the history of the Danube: "And there you are - one river port variously named by three nationalities each name bearing for each nationality a peculiar cultural significance (Here is a striking sidelight on that timeless shift of peoples and powers which is so largely the story of the Danube.

Not all the conquests of Trajan, Attila, Charlemagne, Genghis Khan, and Napoleon have altered the Danube's enduring characteristic of ethnographic ununiformity.  With the Orient at its mouth and the Occident at its source, the passage of 2,000 years has not modified its striking contrasts in cultural levels.  The rise and fall of empires on its banks have but brought the reshuffling of ever-diverse peoples.  And some of those reshufflings have been colossal.  As a result of the World War 58,000,000 Austro-Hungarian subjects regrouped themselves in the succession States and elsewhere" (p. 668).

In Vienna, Austria, the Patria's captain stopped to show his apartment toMr. Chater; "he would like to show us something of postwar Vienna" (p. 668).  The housing complex impressed Mr. Chater very favorably.  I cannot help but wonder what happened to this part of Vienna in the Second World War.

To see the photos of traditional dress which were still worn in Hungary, Austria, and surrounding countries was very pleasant.  In 1929, they were obviously very proud of their rich heritage.  From the photo caption under Color Plate VIII: "Regard of class and love of the soil characterize the peasants of Grigl, near Salzburg (Austria).  In keeping with time-honored custom, when the eldest son marries he becomes head of the house and his parents move to the smaller dowerhouse.  Preservation of traditions of both dress and of labor is a matter of pride with these people."

Now I must contemplate which traditions of my German ancestry I would like to continue with my family. . .

The magnificent Schobrunn Palace of Vienna was also toured by Mr. Chater.  Again I had to google it to see if it still existed: Yes!  Mr. Chater also enjoyed Vienna's cafes, "Incidentally, one frequents those haunts of social sobriety to sip coffee, quaff beer, or consume snacks; but in reality one is there to read newspapers, play cards, write letters, or interchange language lessons" (p. 682).  And how much fun are our own U.S.A. "coffee houses!"  I think they should give out stamps like the Federal Parks so we can prove how many Starbucks we've driven through in various states!  Here in Lexington, Kentucky, U.S.A., however, we cannot in numbers rival the 1,100 coffee houses in Vienna in 1929!

In Hungary, Mr. Chater photographed a "Blessing of the Crops" ceremony and reported, "Religion plays an important role in the life of the peasantry" (p. 679).

Mr. Chater particularly was looking forward to seeing castles in the Wachau district of the Danube.  The Patria's captain thought they were boring and he would prefer to see skyscrapers.  Mr. Chater surmised, "But why not regard the Danube castle as having been in its day the busy skyscraper of medievalism?" (p. 688).  There was Castle Aggstein (a stronghold of river pirates) and Castle Durnstein (captured England's King Richard I, the Lion-Hearted) in Austria.

Next, captain and passenger proceeded on the tug boat to Bavaria, in Germany.  They passed Walhalla, a monument conceived by Bavaria's King Ludwig I in 1807 and completed in 1842.  It is a German "Hall of Fame."  The name, "King Ludwig", brought back distant memories of my visit to one of King Ludwig's Castles, Linderhof.  I remember an expansive, shallow reflecting pool with a beautiful fountain in front of the castle.  Another memory is that of the king's 'disappearing table.'  He didn't like servants bustling about and had a huge dining room table fully loaded in the lower level then elevated to the dining room level.  Isn't it amazing what a pre-schooler will remember!

The Danube passage continued in Germany under the 800-year-old bridge in Regensburg, past the great Gothic cathedral begun in 1275 and completed six centuries later.  The bridge marks the limits of commercial navigation on the Danube River.

Mr. Chater continued his trip by bus.  He spent a day at the medieval city of Ingolstadt.  For three days he walked alongside the river to its source "close to Donaueschingen, where the Fursenberg spring joins the brook Brigad, to form the Danube" (p. 697).  He concluded that the Danube blended and united peoples "in his ageless course from the Black Forest to the Black Sea" (p. 697).

And, of course, now I must take a cruise on the Danube River! 

Back to Holland!

Since visiting Holland as a 4-year-old child with my parents, I have a love for all things Dutch.  I remember wearing pretty, shiny yellow wooden whose while there. 

In the last article of the September, 1929, issue of National Geographic Magazine, Mr. George Alden Sanford, the author of "A Vacation in Holland," highly recommends traveling abroad.  "If you have never been even for a short time, a quasi-citizen of a strange country, you have interesting experiences coming to you.  Tourists who tear through a country by motor car or on express trains miss many of the interesting sights and especially contact with the people" (p. 363).

The country of Holland, in eastern Europe, has a west coast on the North Sea, sharing its eastern border with Germany.  "Nearly one-half of the country being below sea level, constant vigilance in watching the dikes is necessary" (p. 362).  "On a land area about equal to the combined land areas of Maryland and Delaware (U.S.A. states), Holland supports a population of more than 600 to the square mile" (p. 364).

"Holland is a great agricultural country, is thoroughly irrigated by canals, and has been fertilized by cattle for centuries" (p. 366).  "Haarlem is a fine city and the center of the bulb industry. . .Quantities of crocus, hyacinth, narcissus, and tulip bulbs, running high in money value, are exported annually.  "I remember endless fields of red and also yellow tulips in Holland.  "The tulip is undoubtedly the national flower.  The name was appropriated from the Persian language and means a turban" (p. 375). 

In 1929, Holland was a monarchy.  "On Sundays, in fine weather, Queen Wilhelmina, her consort, Prince Henry, and the Princess Juliana may be seen walking to church like any well-to-do Dutch family" (p. 375).  Holland still has a constitutional monarchy.  The current ruler is King Willem-Alexander.

Among my favorite art objects are small blue-and-white pieces of ceramics that resemble tile from Delft, Holland.  My grandmother owned several genuine Delft tiles she proudly displayed.

Sampler on my dining room wall with ceramic blue-and-white 'wooden' shoes like those in Holland.  Mary, my daughter #5 executed this counted cross-stitch creation many years ago.  It shows a windmill, canal, and countryside.

My treasured little ceramic windmill. It is musical and the blue 'blades' actually turn.

Knicknacks in my National Geographic cabinet: blue-and-white windmill (top, left) and seashells, (lower, left): bunny rabbit, vase, and pig.

"The costumes of rural Holland are indeed unique.  Women wear six or more skirts, lest the form be immodestly displayed, and a bright-colored waist with elbow sleeves, for strong, red arms are admired by men.  The climax is a lace cap, the shape of which distinguishes the province in which the wearer lives" (p. 378).  It is too much of me to expect that all native costumes would be worn everywhere in 2013.  I judge the world to be too generic now!

At last, I found out the social place of my beloved wooden shoes: "Children and the poor wear klompen - wooden shoes" (p. 378).  I still appreciate their shape and feel.

Mr. Sanford had a most pleasant vacation: "So, good-bye Holland, with your quaint homes and ways, with your excellent and honest people, with your troops of happy children klomping along the streets, and with all your motoring and boatering" (p. 378).  Someday, I also would like to re-visit Holland!

Java!

My reading "trip" today, exploring the tropical island of Java, ended too quickly!  Mr. W. Robert Moore is the author of "Through Java in Pursuit of Color" in the September, 1929, issue of National Geographic Magazine.  He describes the beauty of the Java natives in countryside and cities and tells of his adventures.

To try to ascertain exactly where in the Pacific Ocean this island of Java is located, I had to flip through and find a more up-to-date map among those I've pulled out of all my old National Geographics.  Java is south of the Philippine Islands and Borneo, west of New Guinea and northeast of Australia.  The old country names of Indo China (now Vietnam), Siam (now Thailand), and Sumatra (still the same) confused me.  Java, along with Sumatra, Borneo and half of New Guinea, are part of Indonesia.  I'm learning. . .

Java is a large island, having "approximately the same area as the State of New York, U.S.A.," and in 1929 had "three and a half times as many inhabitants" (p. 347).  That works out to "727 people per square mile" (p. 346).

At that time, Java was owned by and governed by the Netherlands.  Several Sultans were permitted to live as they always had, although I'm sure they had no political power.  There were incredible contrasts of modern cities and the factories which processed sugar cane, quinine, rubber, and coffee, with the unmechanized countryside full of rice farms.  Fish farming was encouraged by the government.  "Next to Cuba, Java is the most important cane sugar producing country in the world" (p. 346).  Producing batik-patterned fabric was also an important industry.

Malaria was then and still remains a disastrous disease transmitted by mosquitoes to many people in tropical countries.  "The cinchona groves of Java, which have been developed from a few imported from South American trees, now (1929) produce nine-tenths of the world's supply of Quinine," the medicine that cures malaria (p. 362).

Mr. Moore reported that Hindu was the religion of most of the natives but there were also Mohammedans.  There were active volcanoes on the mountains of Semeroe and Bromo which he took great care to explore. "The rich soil of the island is a great volcanic ash heap, and this is one of the chief reasons for Java's fertility and prosperity" (p. 343).

He succeeded in taking beautiful color photos.  Apparently, his subjects had to remain motionless for such a time that discouraged some from remaining long enough to be photographed.  Of particular interest were the dancing, music from bamboo tubes and "Wayang" plays depicting native culture.

Finally Mr. Moore traveled to the city of "Buitenzorg with its world-famous botanical gardens and the palace of the Governor General of the Dutch East Indies. . One could spend weeks in the gardens, visiting the Natural History and Economic museums and in seeing the Government agricultural gardens, but other lands were calling" (p. 362).  Yes, they are calling me, too!

Back to Islands!

September, 1929: In the first National Geographic Magazine article of this issue, "Into Primeval Papua by Seaplane: Seeking Disease-resisting Sugar Cane, Scientists Find Neolithic Man in Unmapped Nooks of Sorcery and Cannibalism," E.W. Brandes, Ph.D., recounts his trip to New Guinea.

Greenland alone exceeds the island of New Guinea in land area.  "Fifteen hundred miles long, it sprawls just below the Equator, in the western Pacific" (p. 255).  New Guinea is north of Australia.  In 1929, the island, which is three times as large as the British Isles, had less than one million citizens.  A large portion of the interior of New Guinea was unexplored.

The impetus for the trip came from the U.S. Department of Agriculture: "seek a disease-resisting sugar cane, to revive a sick industry" in the southern states (p. 258).

From the first seaplane flight on the southeast tip of the island, Mr. Brandes particularly appreciated the scenery, "an amazing panorama of submerged coral reefs, palm-fringed beaches, and wooded hills, terminating far inland in majestic peaks mantled in swirling mists.  Birds floated lazily among the tree tops, and in the clear blue waters sharks could be seen stealthily nosing their way among the reefs" (p. 264).

The New Guinea natives were primitive, even by 1929 standards.  They hunted with bows and arrows in the jungle and in their fishing.  Travel was by outrigger canoes.  However, they long had the habit of smoking and growing tobacco: "Now, we have been brought up to believe that tobacco was unknown, except in America, up to the time of Sir Walter Raleigh's famous introduction of the smoking habit to sixteenth-century English courtiers; but there is evidence that it has been known and universally used in New Guinea for a long time," Mr. Brandes found out (p. 276).

This is the outrigger canoe paddled by my daughter, Theresa (in the front position), while we were in Hawaii several weeks ago.  There is evidence that, even in 1929, polynesian peoples of the Pacific had intermingled with New Guinea natives as they had in Hawaii.

No natives had ever seen foreigners.  "It goes without saying that we were considered supernatural.  All natives of this island with whom white people have been able to exchange ideas of an abstract nature have disclosed strong beliefs in spirits, malignant as well as beneficent.  Most of them conceive of ghosts of departed friends and enemies, who must be placated in various ways to avert dire consequences" (p. 290).

Hazards of this journey for Mr. Brandes and his crew included aggressive crocodiles in the rivers and lakes, malarial mosquitoes, and the availability of gas and oil for their seaplane.

And then there were skulls, "much used in the arts and rites of New Guinea tribes.  Not only the bones of enemies but also those of deceased relatives are employed for many purposes.  Among some tribes a widow wears her departed husband's thigh bones as a collar around the neck or as 'paniers' about the waist" (p. 293).

The legendary "head-hunters" were real: "I was startled when one cannibal calipered my leg in a professional manner and otherwise conducted himself like a judge in a stock show. . .Their most prized possessions - stuffed human heads!" (p. 296).  I should not relate to you how these heads were obtained.  "It took much persuasion to keep the head-hunters in line and quiet long enough to be photographed," Mr. Brandes reports (p. 297).

"As to the continuance of cannibalism: Many areas are not yet under Government influence, and where cannibalism has existed for thousands of years it still persists" (p. 296).  In 1929, the island was owned partly by the Netherlands and the rest was under the protection of Australia.

Although Mr. Brandes and his party came to New Guinea for sugar cane specimens, "it was only natural that the strange tribes we bartered with were even more interesting than the plant life we found" (p, 304).  They traveled to the upper reaches of the Fly River to the land of the Pygmy race.  "Their houses are built in trees and on the tops of tall poles, about fifty feet above the ground" (p. 305).  The New Guinea pygmies are an isolated race of people all very short in stature.  When the seaplane flew over their settlement, they thought it was "the big hawk that came with thunderous noise out of the upper air to carry them off" (p. 306).

The author quickly found out that the suspended pygmy dwellings, which appeared to be abandoned, were full of natives who showered "an arsenal of large rocks, arrows, etc. . . .through small holes in the walls and trapdoors in the floor.  For some reason my head was spared" (p. 307).  Finally, the natives approached.  "After exchanging gifts I led them to a small patch of sugar cane and made signs for them to cut me some" (p. 309).  The pygmies seemed far more pleasant than the other tribes encountered.

Much to their surprise, one of the pygmies spoke Malay so he could communicate with the seaplane's pilot, Peck, also proficient in the language.  Then they "learned the native names of their villages, rivers and individuals; of their constant dread of bad men, and the reasons for their peculiar styles of architecture, together with much of historical interest" (p. 311).

The expedition explored the Fly River close to its source.  Then, satisfied that the 130 varieties of sugar cane specimens were properly packed, they headed home to Washington, D.C., U.S.A., via Sydney, Australia and Vancouver, Washington, U.S.A.  It had been 200 days since their departure.

The plants were quarantined upon their arrival and then were tested.  Mr. Brandes concluded, "It is conceivable that some of these varieties, propagated on a commercial scale, will eventually reach proportions gigantic in comparison with the limited amounts found in their native habitat.  Thus we see that races of plants, like races of people, may migrate from one far part of the world to another to multiply and replenish the earth" (p. 332).

This was a most enjoyable article that sometimes read like a novel and other times seemed like a horror show!

"P" Help #3: I.D. & Credit Cards

Since you won't get onto a plane without a picture I.D., you know you'll need that to travel anywhere.  For travel outside the United States, you'll need a passport.  Apply for one at your local Post Office, more than SIX MONTHS before you'll need it.  You'll need a 'head' photo for the passport.  I thought I'd try to be cheap one time and got it at one of the office supply & copy places.  The Post Office rejected it because it was not exactly what they asked for.  So now, I get the photo at the P.O. 

Credit cards:  it is suggested, and it makes perfect sense to me: only bring one major credit card, the one you've had the longest.  Leave all other credit cards, all debit cards, and your checkbook at home.  In case your cards are lost or stolen (heaven forbid!), no one can access your bank account.  Before you leave home, call your credit card company, tell them where you're going and the dates you'll be leaving and returning.

It's a good idea to photocopy the cards you'll be bringing and leave one copy at home with a person you trust, and another copy with another person you'll be traveling with.  Never leave the copy in your checked luggage.

Money belt:  This is a must for foreign countries!  There are two kinds; one actually will fit around your waist and the other will fit between your waist and ladies' bras.  This really gives you peace-of-mind against pick-pockets in very crowded countries, airports, and train stations.  After you pass through customs, you can put your passport in  the money belt also.  I've never had any problems using the above info.

Eagles and America: We Can Soar!

"The Eagle in Action: An Intimate Study of the Eyrie Life of America's National Bird," by Francis H. Herrick, Sc.D, is the final article in the May, 1929, issue of the National Geographic Magazine.  At one time the wild turkey was under consideration to be our American "National Bird."  Easily farmed and slaughtered to feed us on our Thanksgiving Day, the turkey never would have fit our American national pride in strength and determination: we know we can SOAR!  We dare to EXCEL!

The white-headed or 'bald eagle' is a true native of America and "ranges over nearly the whole of the American continent" (p. 635).  After six committees had tried to choose an official bird beginning the day the Declaration of Independence was signed, the eagle became our official bird whose image is emblazoned on our national Coat of Arms on June 20, 1782.  "To men of every age he has seemed the very embodiment of freedom and power" (p. 635).

"The female, which in the American eagle is the larger sex,  may attain a length of forty-three inches, may spread eight feet, and according to Audubon, may weight from 8 to 12 pounds, though these last figures may be greatly exceeded in captive birds.  It is a stranger to fatigue, can probably lift its own weight, and has been known to carry a lamb over a distance of five miles" (p. 635).

For ten years prior to 1929, the eagle was accused of destroying salmon and reindeer in Alaska and was hunted.  Forty to fifty thousand eagles were destroyed.  How horrifying it is to read today of our protected bird being hunted legally!

When I was recently on a bus tour of the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, U.S.A.,  an eagle's nest was pointed out in the countryside.  In a high tree, it was very large, an inverted cone, perhaps five or six feet long.  The eagle's nest is called an 'eyrie.'

Mr. Herrick spent several years in northern Ohio, U.S.A.,, studying eagles' habits from a tent on a platform built 100 feet high.  From his high perch, occupied by him or a colleague in three-hour shifts from dawn to dusk, he had a view into an eagles' eyrie, less than forty feet away.  The nest was eighty-six feet off the ground in a tree.  What he discovered about the birds was truly amazing.

*Eagles mate for life.  If one of the pair dies or is killed, the female will search for a new mate, then the pair will return to the nest.  If a male is widowed, he will wait at the nest for another female.

*The same nest is used by the same eagles, year after year.  It is added to, insofar as the tree can support its weight.

*What enemies could such a large fowl have?  The eagles' eggs or the young eaglets could be eaten by crows or vultures.  Female and male eagles generally take turns guarding the nest.  If they are both away from the nest, eggs or eaglets are covered with grass and straw.

*Eagles are territorial.  Mr. Herrick witnessed a terrible fight between the nesting eagles and several others.  The male eagle was killed.

From my point of view, it is fitting for me to read and review this article, the first about an animal, in my plan to read my collection of National Geographic Magazines.  I am a passionately patriotic American, and the Eagle is a symbol of that pride!

How About the East Coast?

Next, through the pages of the National Geographic Magazine, we're traveling to the east coast of England, to the part known as "Fenland."  North to south, it's approximately in the center of the east coast. Christopher Marlowe, the author, describes the history of Fenland and his journey there in "A Tour in the English Fenland," May, 1929.

"The fen country has been described as the cradle of the English race. . .Originally the whole land was a forest of oak, ash, fir, and nut trees.  Then, in the second century, there was an earthquake, and the sea submerged this forest" (p. 605).  Since then, starting with the Romans, efforts have been made to reclaim the fertile land by building dikes and embankments.  The local villagers have opposed these projects and blocked them, feeling that it would damage their fishing and hunting possibilities.

"Finally Oliver Cromwell (seventeenth century) put down all opposition by force" (p. 605) and enlisted the services of a Dutch engineer.  Canals and windmills were built; much land was reclaimed.  In 1929, there were plans to reclaim even more fertile agricultural land from the salt marshes.  I have vague memories of visiting windmills in Holland with my parents in the late 1940's.  The photos on p. 632 and 633 look identical to those I remember.

Mr. Marlowe passed through the towns of 'New York' and 'Boston!'  Are any names of our American towns not copies of English towns?  Of course, I know the answer to that question: yes.  We have an incredible number of wonderful original names for our towns and cities, but - we have borrowed a lot from England.

Crowland Abbey has been in ruins for hundreds of years, another result of King Henry VIII's greed.  The town of Lincoln, one of the oldest cities in England, has a gateway built by the Romans "about the dawn of the Christian era" (photo caption, p. 610).

"Near Peterborough are the fenland bulb plantations, which constitute a most important industry.  Practically every farm devotes acres to the cultivation of tulips" (p. 616).  How interesting!  Again, I remember staring at fields of red tulips in Holland as a four-year-old.  They were magnificent!

I enjoy researching some of the places I've read about in these old magazine issues to see how they've grown.  In 1929, Peterborough had 45,000 citizens.  Today, there are approximately 185,000.  I couldn't find out if they still maintain the tulip bulb farms.

There is another eight-page section of beautiful color photos.  I love the architecture of the English stucco homes with their brown wooden boards at different angles.  Some of the roofs in these 1929 photos appear thatched (the Irish pronounce this 'tatched'.)  and some appear slate.  Some of my favorite residences here in Lexington, Kentucky, U.S.A., have this same English architecture.

FYI: you may be interested in why I add "U.S.A." after one of our American states in my various blog entries.  The blog service counts the number of visitors to each blog and the part of the world from which they originate.  Although I would never know any individual persons or e-mail addresses, I have readers from continental United States, Alaska, and the very large country of Russia.  I'll have to learn how to say "Welcome!" in Russian!  And "Welcome!" to one and all!

That another country may have had witch trials such as the early Americans held at Salem, Massachusetts, never occurred to me.  Such trials were held in 1589 in the town of Warboys, England, in the Fenland.  In one case, not only the confessed witch was executed but also her husband and daughter.

In Nottinghamshire is a historical marker of interest to U.S.A. citizens: "On the Three Hundredth Anniversary of the Sailing of the Mayflower with the Pilgrim Fathers to New England, this tablet was unveiled by the representatives of the Anglo-American Society in commemoration of the heroic virtues of the little band of lovers of truth and freedom which first met in this place. (Other side:) This tablet is erected by the Pilgrim Society of Plymouth, Massachusetts, United States of America to mark the site of the ancient manor house where lived William Brewster, from 1588 to 1608, and where he became ruling elder, and with which, in 1608, he removed to Amsterdam, in 1609 to Leyden, and in 1620 to Plymouth where he died April 16, 1644." 

It is truly admirable, the lengths the British go to while preserving their history.  "In the village of Wicken is preserved a square mile of absolutely undrained marsh, where one can see plants and flowers and swallow-tailed butterflies which formerly were everywhere in this district. . .A tour in the English fenland had proved a unique experience" (p. 634).

Think I'll go have some English tea!