Yes, I visited the Alamo!

And here it is, with the two-person universe of happiness posing nearby. It was a quick visit to San Antonio, and a hot one, but I not only got to see where Davy Crockett drew his last breaths, I also got to visit the River Walk twice. The last evening was spent with five college freshmen and a high school junior at the Hard Rock Cafe, and I've got a glass (and this goofy picture) to prove it, except as usual I'm not actually IN the picture because I'm the one taking it.

It was fun to hang out with the kids, if a little exhausting, but back in Bedford it's time to harvest a bumper crop of tomatoes and get back to work on the house. I helped DD move into her college dorm yesterday, a bittersweet occasion. She's the third generation in our family to attend Indiana University. We had lunch at the Runcible Spoon, which I remember from my own college days (I'm not sure how long it has been in Bloomington, but there were thirty years' worth of literary journals on the bookshelves.) The iced coffee with mint was sweet and good.

Back Home Again...

in Indiana. It was a quick trip that included Washington, D.C., the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and the great city of Pittsburgh, which I had never visited before. I chose Pittsburgh because it would allow me to do the Eastern Shore-Bedford, Indiana drive in two days with something interesting in between.

Our first impression of Pittsburgh was an exciting one, until a driving rain obscured everything but the road in front of us. We checked into the Lady Palm suite at the Parador Inn (www.theparadorinn.com), a fabulously restored 1870's mansion-turned-B&B on Pittsburgh's North Side, and since the rain had stopped we proceeded to explore the neighborhood. Seconds after stepping across the street we got caught in a downpour and sought refuge in one of the arches of the Calvary United Methodist Church. Learning that the church was open, we jumped at the chance to not only get out of the rain but see those famous Tiffany stained glass windows from the inside of the dark sanctuary with the fading afternoon light behind them. We couldn't make out anything of the interior (I hear the oak ceilings are also impressive), but the windows took my breath away.

I just had to see the Emmanuel Episcopal Church, which was designed by H.H. Richardson, pioneer of the Romanesque Revival style that inspired the architecture of our jail. It was only a block away, so I ran through the rain to get a better look. It was impossible to take a decent picture with water dripping all over my face, needless to say. We had dinner at a nearby Thai restaurant, and it was all delicious. Our waitress at the Thai place, a pretty young woman with an abundance of glitter highlighting her eyes, brightened when we told her where we were staying; she hopes to have her wedding at the Parador.

A few years ago I had negotiated (unsuccessfully, as it turned out) with the Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh to have a Warhol exhibition in the overseas country I was serving in at the time. I had wanted to visit this museum ever since, so after an excellent breakfast at the Parador we took a walk down Millionaires' Row, imagining Pittsburgh at the turn of the last century, and spent a couple of hours in the museum learning about the life of Pop artist Andy Warhol, a Pittsburgh native. I was pretty young in the late 1960's and early 1970's when Warhol and his friends were considered the coolest people in New York City, so it was fun to relive that era, with its striped bell bottoms and long play albums in Warhol covers, Mick and Bianca Jagger and a very young, fresh-faced Michael Jackson. The seventies were one big party for Warhol and his friends, evidently. By the time we got to the end of Warhol's life, however, to his collaboration with Jean-Michel Basquiat on a long line of Jesus punching bags, it was obvious that the party was over and it all just seemed sad somehow. That final impression stayed with us as we checked out the offerings in the gift shop, where we spent a half an hour and didn't buy anything.

It was almost two o'clock when we emerged from the Warhol Museum, and we had a long drive back to Bedford ahead of us, so we scrapped plans to visit the Aviary and the Mattress Factory and hit the road. Pittsburgh is definitely worth another visit, and its proximity to the road to Washington pretty much ensures I'll be seeing it again in the near future.

Adventures in Hot Glass and Remember the Alamo

Last night an exhibition of glass artistry by Ross Thackery opened at the Old Jail Art Center. I am showing you just three of the gorgeous glass items on display in the hopes of enticing you to come see the rest. There's not a lot of time--the exhibition closes this Wednesday--so hurry! In addition to being a very talented artist, Ross is a great teacher; he has taught two very successful stained glass workshops at our center so far. This fall we are again offering stained glass, and are adding a fusing/beadmaking workshop as well. I was one of Ross's first stained glass students, and I loved it. I'm looking forward to taking fusing next month as well. There's something magic about glass, as I'm sure you'll agree if you've ever watched a glassblower at work.

I'll be in and out this month (mostly out, I suspect) traveling with DD and the aforementioned sweetheart (hers, not mine--mine will hold down our very large limestone fort as usual!). I have visited the great city of San Antonio numerous times (DM, my darling mother, lived there for years, with my youngest siblings), but I have never, believe it or not, visited the Alamo. DH and I did get to the River Walk once, where we drank a beer with my sister Jessica and her husband while we paid the "little kids" (at this point teenagers) ice cream money to go away and leave us alone. Anyway, that was a long time ago, too--Jessica and Don have been married for 26 years this summer and DH and I for 25, and the youngest of the little kids turns 36 in November.

This time I will see where Davy Crockett took his last breaths, I really will, at last. I will blog about it, too. Stay tuned!

Dvasos Church

The two pictures to the left are of a beaded artwork in the Dvasos Church in Vilnius, Lithuania. I don't know the name of the artist, but I was dazzled by the beauty of the work and thought I would share it with you. As a person who dabbles in needlework, I could imagine the hours and hours the artist put in to create this piece, and how proud she was to see it hung on the walls of this gorgeous church. (I suppose the artist might have been a "he", but it seems unlikely.) The Dvasos Church itself has an unusually colorful interior, painted bright green, pink and turquoise with gold trim; according to my guidebook it has both Rococo and Baroque elements. The top photo is of the altar.

Our Lithuanian Boy Genius (aka the love of DD's life) didn't see what all the fuss was about; evidently this church is not considered an important jewel in the Vilnian crown, but I appreciated the exuberant use of color. Most of the churches we visited were austere, painted either white or left in natural stone; to me their spareness, although beautiful, reflected a more subdued, even somber, side of the Lithuanian national experience. Dvasos Church suggests something else altogether, joy, maybe.

Sculpture Gardens at the Chateau of Bois-Guilbert

My DD had the fabulous luck, during her school year in France, to be hosted by three wonderful families. The third of those was the Thierry de Pas family, who run the first Pony Club to be established in France. All summer long the pony club is hopping with kids learning to ride and care for Shetland ponies. The first morning I was there we accompanied Thierry's daughter Agathe to bring in the horses from a back pasture--what an adventure to follow more than 300 horses through narrow country lanes back to the barns of the pony club. The de Pas family were wonderful hosts and I enjoyed getting to know Thierry, his wife Delphine, and their children, in the week I spent as their guest.

Next door to the pony club, on what used to be the same estate, is the Chateau of Bois-Guilbert, owned by Thierry's brother Jean-Marc, a celebrated sculptor. Jean-Marc has established beautiful sculpture gardens at the chateau, and this summer he has organized the "Sixth Bienniale of Sculpture in the Gardens of Bois-Guilbert." (You can see more at http://pagesperso-orange.fr/le.jardin.des.sculptures/index2.htm, if you can manage your way around a site in French.)

Never being one to miss out on an opportunity, I did not neglect to visit the chateau and its gardens. The beauty of the place was breathtaking. We spent a couple of hours walking through the gardens, taking in the sculpture and its interaction with the landscape, shooting photo after photo with my iPhone, and getting more inspired by the minute.

I've posted a couple of pictures for you to enjoy as well. One is of the chateau as you approach it from the road; you will see DD and her host brother Jeremie in the foreground. Closer to the castle is a sculpture by Robert Arnoux. The other picture is of a sculpture just outside the little chapel on the estate; I believe it is by the owner, Jean-Marc de Pas. To me this sculpture reflects the aristocratic history of this wonderful place, handed down from one generation to another.

The Hill of Crosses

DD and I had a wonderful trip; we met in Paris, where we spent a single night before traveling to Vilnius, Lithuania the next day. Her sweetheart Andrius, who really IS a sweetheart, showed us all over his country for the next two weeks, joined by his wonderfully hospitable parents Viktoras and Rasa as soon as they arrived from Tbilisi. Altogether this family made sure we didn't miss anything in their beautiful country; they are a real class act.

One of the most memorable places we visited in Lithuania is called the "Hill of Crosses." The way it came about is this: Back in the bad old days of the Soviet Union, a group of Lithuanian partisans were killed by the Soviet authorities and buried in unmarked graves on or near a small hill in the northern part of Lithuania. Some of the local people erected crosses on the graves, to honor the sacrifice these brave individuals had made for their country. Even though religious displays were strongly discouraged in the Soviet Union, others added crosses of their own, and the hill became full of crosses. The authorities brought in bulldozers on occasion and destroyed the crosses, but the people always returned and put up more, even after guards were posted and it became much more dangerous to do so.

Now, of course, Lithuania has won its independence and there is no penalty for putting up a cross of your own on the Hill of Crosses. There are more than 200,000 today. Some make you want to cry, like the one above, placed by a young American soldier to honor a fallen comrade. Others are kind of funny, like the one that uses children's magnetized plastic letters to convey its message. All of them together testify to the power of faith to change the course of history.

In France, ask for "wee-fee" to connect!

I'm sitting in a cafe in Rouen, France waiting for DD to join me so we can go to a meeting of the Rotary Club that sponsored her stay here during this past school year. I've been Internet-less for most of the three weeks since I left Indiana, so there's a lot of unreported news, but I'm typing with one finger, so most of it will have to wait. Let me just say that I am blessed with a wonderful daughter and am happy beyond words to be with her again. We spent two weeks in Lithuania where I got to know the young man who is the love of her life and not surprisingly, he's terrific, too.

Unfortunately, my iPhone won't let me upload any photos, so stay tuned. We leave for home this Thursday.