Antiquity

Here you see High Street in Mitcheldean, Gloucestershire, United Kingdom, looking toward St. Micheal's and All Angel's church. Inside the church is a fifteenth century painting and brasses showing the original gravesite of Sir Thomas Baynham and his two wives, Jane and Alice. This is the origin in English history of the Baynham family, as they married into a Saxon family, de Dene. Somewhere in the piles of papers I have in my house is a copy of a short bit of family tree, showing the family of Geoffrey and Petronilla de Dene ("the Dane"), and as the generations pass from one generation to another, you ultimately pass to Raffe ap Enyon, who married into the family. I wonder sometimes how it was that this Welshman married into a wealthy Saxon family, whose home was the Dene Magna, which became Mitcheldean.

From there, I have a second copy of a family tree which begins with Thomas ap Enyon, whose name was changed to Baynham, as the old Welsh name was transformed into an English name forever. This is a common transformation from old Welsh names to new English names: Ap Rhys to Price, Ap Ian to Bain, etc.

The Baynhams were known for their connections to the Forest of Dean, a royal forest in the west of Gloucestershire, bordering on Wales. Beyond is Tintern Abbey, immortalized by Wordsworth in his poem. Further on is Cardiff, the capital of Wales and the largest city in the South of Wales. Beyond, on the coast, lies the port city of Swansea, birthplace of Dylan Thomas. Read "A Child's Christmas in Wales" and see the seaport in its Winter finery. It is the most poetic prose I know of.

That is my plan, anyway.

Someday, I will fly to London and take a train to Gloucester, where I will hear the choir in the great cathedral, just as Kate and I did when we heard them perform in St. Phillips Cathedral in Atlanta when Kate was very young. Perhaps, we will see the ghosts created by Beatrix Potter around the countryside near Gloucester, or hear the creak of the old wooden ships anchored in Bristol. Crossing the Severn, we might travel back in place and time to Mitcheldean. We might even stay at Baynham Farm, north of Mitcheldean. Here is an old picture of it:

A last goodbye

Last Tuesday, I was sitting in the third floor courtroom, watching the festivities, waiting for my client's case to come up for trial. As I sat in one of the few comfortable chairs in the courtroom, the judge was hearing guilty pleas for a variety of the defendants on the calendar that morning. A variety of defendants, some clad in jail stripes, others in street clothes, stood before the judge and tried to avoid the eruption of his wrath. Some more than others.

At one point, the sentencing was completed, and several of the defendants headed outside the courtroom to meet with probation officers. The others walked slowly over to one of the bailiffs to have their hands shackled for the short ride out to the County Jail.

As the shackles were placed on their hands, one of the defendants turned and looked over his shoulders into the audience. He raised his bound hands in a last goodbye to his family, a slight smile crossing his lips. I looked back into the audience beyond the bar. A young woman waved back, a mixture of affection and concern crossing her face. Her face was red; obviously she had been crying. She seemed to be trying to be brave. Both of them were.

I wondered at where this road would lead him, other than to the Diagnostic and Classification Center in Jackson and some c.i. around the state. Where would his family go? It was an awfully somber morning on the third floor superior courtroom.

Sand crystals

I drove down A1A one time and watched the sun rise
Along Cape Canaveral's beaches
And it was a bright, silver morning
The seagulls screaming to the waves
The blue-green water rising up
And slamming down upon the sands
Which were shark's skin grey in the morning light.

And each beach is unique:
The distinctive repositories of billions
Of sugar glass crystals, each different,
Though seemingly the same,
Their individuality lost among the myriad others,
A snow globe sitting upon the shelf, a scene caught
In its own wet sphere,
Shaking the crystals with my hand against the shafts of sunlight.

Chartless

Cruising
In the darkness' grasp,
Before the golden morning light
The water is midnight blue glass
And I am trusting in the pilot's hand.

Early signs of Winter in the mountains

This past weekend, after court was finally over (around twelve), we finally got on the road and headed up 400 to Dawsonville, where we stopped for provisions at the Super Kroger, then continued on up past Dahlonega to Union County and the Day cabin. When we got there, it was dark and cold in the house and we had to turn the water heater on and turn the thermostat up to warm the house.

We went to bed after a supper of soup and hot tea and when we woke up, we ate pumpkin flavored pancakes and bacon and got a big, hearty start to the morning, then Kate and I got dressed for the cold morning and headed on the road toward a place to hike in the morning.

I headed the Explorer up toward Hiawassee, then off Richard Russell Parkway toward Helen. We got to the top of the mountain and off to the left of the road, beyond the guardrail, the whole world below was gone, replaced by a thick, white cloud. Kate said it reminded her of a cartoon in which Bugs Bunny found himself outside the cartoon in a white nothingness, only to return to the visible world.

We ran out of desire to find the hiking trail and decided to drive back to Brasstown Bald. We drove back to the Hiawassee Highway, then turned right away from Blairsville toward the highest mountain in Georgia. Several miles later, we came upon the entrance to Brasstown Bald and turned up. The road headed upward to the summit. As we climbed higher and higher, all of a sudden the rain turned white, in increments, until suddenly the precipitation was uniformly white and fluffy. We were driving through a snow fall. Everything was white and silent. As we topped at the entrance to the parking area, we drove around to the guard house. I rolled the window down and the lady in the little brown house asked us if we were going to the top.

I looked at Kate as the snow blew past us. "Of course."

So I paid the three dollars to park and Kate and I left the warm interior of the Explorer and walked out into the increasing whiteness and cold. We decided to take the shuttle up to the top and hopped into the warm interior of the shuttle and rode the half mile up to the top of Brasstown Bald. As we navigated the slushy steps up to the top, we took pictures of each other as the snowflakes blew past our faces. There was not much reason to take pictures of the area around the top, since there wasn't anything else except cloud and snow, both a grey white.

We took the time to watch the movie about Brasstown Bald, where we learned that the relative temperature and climate of Brasstown Bald was equivalent to Massachusetts. Such a surprise with snow and temperatures near freezing in the middle of October.

We drove back down to the cabin and told Cindy about our adventure. The next day, the snow was gone, but Kate and I walked through the cold down to the cow pastures so Kate could take pictures of the cows, as they grazed and sat on the cold wet ground. Walking back to the cabin, we sighted a young bear scampering across the road ahead of us back to its lair in the trees. Our second big nature sighting for the weekend.

After we packed up the Explorer, we headed South toward Dahlonega, Dunwoody and home. As we passed Blood Mountain, I noticed snow on the summit. Yes, Winter comes early in those North Georgia mountains.

Early Fall drive through Middle Georgia

I was scheduled to meet with a couple for a refinance of their house in Fort Valley. Fort Valley is in Peach County, southwest of Macon. When I had the opportunity to leave the office, I headed the Explorer down Arthur K. Bolton Parkway toward I-75 South toward Macon. This was the second time I had made this trip today, the third in two days. The road was beginning to bore me.

This trip, I shot down 475 past Bibb County and headed down I-75 to the Byron/Fort Valley exit. As I exited the interstate, and passed the clutter at the exit, I suddenly broke free of the gravitational pull of Byron and drove between cotton fields, the green leaves on the cotton bushes heavy with the young bolls. The dark green leaves with the decorations of the white bolls was quite pretty.

Later, the soy beans plants were turning yellow as the season took its toll on the bean plants. As I passed mile to mile, the road became more rural and development less frequent. We finally came upon a city limits sign for Fort Valley and I knew I was close.

I navigated downtown Fort Valley, what there was of it, and turned north past a Nuway Wiener Stand to the subdivision in which the borrowers' house was located. I parked and hopped out and spoke with the wife as she ushered me into their home.

After the closing was completed, I left their house and walked out into their driveway. Suddenly, a fragrance of some unknown flowers met my nostrils. I looked around the driveway and couldn't identify the flowers which were blossoming at this time of year. A dogwood nearby was covered with its rusty leaves and the red seeds on its branches. It was pretty, but hardly the source of the floral fragrance.

I headed the car out of the driveway and back north up 3/41 toward Barnesville and home. As I drove, I could see rows of peach trees and pecan trees, scattered across the lands of North Peach County. It was beautiful. The road headed into Crawford County, then Monroe, then Lamar. Farms and small FHA houses surrounded the highway as I headed north. At one point, I passed the familiar sights of Musella and the packing plant for Dickey Farms, a peach orchard we have visited. The "season over" sign made me sad as I remembered our trips down to Dickey's to buy peaches and peach ice cream and peach bread.

Later, I passed the peach stand just north of Culloden and saw that the DOT had created a roundabout at the intersection of 3/41 and 74. The thickly leaved peach trees surrounded the intersection as if an army of peach trees were camped on the hilltop where the roundabout was located.

The air was so dry now and the thin clouds were high in the sky. It looked so still as if the season had held its breath, waiting for Winter to arrive. But there are many days of Fall before us before the year takes it final turn toward December and January and the hardest days of Winter.

I completed my trip through Lamar County, Barnesville and up through Milner, Orchard Hill and County Line Road over to South Sixth Street Extension and home.

The ride was so restful. Peaceful. Comforting in the false sense of permanence the countryside provided me. I drove down to Fort Valley to provide a service. In return, I was paid $250 and a peaceful, restful trip through Middle Georgia in October. The trees had not turned, but no matter. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride anyway.

Early this morning

The morning has come and so has the rain. The radio just informed me of a flood watch around the Atlanta area. I am sure that will extend to Macon, where I have to be at 10:30. I hope I can find my good umbrella. Maybe I will include my rain coat and my hat with my ensemble this morning.

It seems like it takes awhile to get started in the morning. Particularly yesterday and today. I don't know why it takes a little longer. This morning I am feeling my mortality a little more than normal. I guess ignoring my mortality is just that, ignoring the inevitable. I woke up around 5:40 and left the bedroom. Kate left the bedroom door open so Tex escaped sometime in the middle of the night. When I stepped in and awakened Cindy, Tex was not in the bedroom, or the living room or the kitchen or laundry room or dining room. That eliminates the bottom half of the house. I guess he might have found his way to the second floor.

A new week begins. Much like the week before. Perhaps like the week ahead. Oh well.

Fall fun on a football Sunday

I woke up this morning and my body felt like there was a short in the system. I almost felt like I might be coming down with something, but I finally picked up enough energy to prepare my breakfast and start the day. I was moving too late to go to church, so I hope there were at least two tenors out there today. Outside, the skies were so pretty and it really looked like a nice day to get out and wished I could get Kate out to do some bike riding. Well, that didn't happen, but at least we got out to run some errands before the Falcons 49ers game began at 4:00. As it turned out, the game began while we were still running errands, but I could hear the game on the radio and the Falcons were scoring quickly and now they are winning 38-10 with about the brunt of the fourth quarter to go.

Something needs to happen good to make up for Georgia getting beaten handily by Tennessee yesterday. I am sure my friends who attended Auburn are feeling the same way, wanting for something to make up for their loss to Arkansas. And Florida State, who finally succumbed to Georgia Tech last night, after an hour or so of thunder and lightening.

Next weekend, we are borrowing a cabin from some friends of ours. I think I have Cindy convinced that we can leave early and go to Helen on our way to Blairsville for the weekend. Kate and I plan on hiking up Blood Mountain and maybe going fly fishing in the Nottelly River. I hope the weather is nice next weekend. A little cooler. But clear and the leaves starting to turn. What fun. Sitting on their big screened porch and listening to the birds and looking at the leaves.

Sounds fun. We are all looking forward to it. The Falcons are now winning 45-10. Pretty good day in San Francisco.

The blue out this weekend will be grey blue

I was sitting in a Lenscrafter's in Peachtree City, in the process of getting my eyes checked and a new set of contact lenses issued. On my way to PTC from Griffin, the sky had been piled with an odd collection of clouds, grey and white and dark blue-black. It appeared that at any moment the skies might open up and pour another dose of precipitation on the area.

I was ultimately led into the examination room where my eyes were examined, poked with puffs of air, tweaked and examined. As I sat there and discussed the various preferences of my eyes to lenses, there suddenly arose a loud, thumping noise from above the store. I looked at the eye doctor and she informed me that there was an air show in Peachtree City this weekend.

As I sat in the office, the sound came back several times, but I also noticed that the sky had cleared and there was bright sunshine coming in the windows of the store. This realization was particularly startling to me, since the eye doctor had dialated my eyes and I was taking in so much of the sunshine into my inner eyeball, that I was bedazzled, literally.

They handed me a very cheap pair of shades to wear, like some very uncool, elderly dude, and I walked out into the greater sunshine and realized that I was not going to be able to make it down to Joseph Banks to shop, unless I was going to find a seeing eye dog with a fashion sense. I also realized that I was not finding supper at Ted's Montana Grill that night. Instead, I took a gamble and headed away from the western glow of the sky and toward Griffin.

This trip was fraught with an overall lack of good eyesight, but the road finally led me back home and I walked into the house with my new fashion shades. It is now eleven o'clock and the effects of the dialation juice has worn off, but I am very tired and my eyes are tired and dry.

I did get a good meal out of tonight, cooked by our own Iron Chef, Shelley McKay, of pork tenderloin, green beans and mashed potatoes. Now it is time to take a dose of Musinex and head towards slumber. Tomorrow morning, I will awaken, take the dog outside and watch the morning arise in probable grey precipitation. This may be one of those grey weekends we have been having lately. Oh well, a season for everything, I suppose.

Tomorrow is homecoming in Lexington, Virginia. A part of me wishes I was in Virginia right now. A big part. Oh well.

Lowdown textile town blues

Cindy and Kate have left for a movie. I am here in the office. I finished up with a potential new client just a few minutes ago. I have been taking calls and trying to work on matters today. Meanwhile, I get a sharp remark about getting back to work when I take a very short quiz on facebook. You can't win. I am supposed to get dogfood, ice and bleach at the grocery store before I go home. I fed the dog Chinese food leftovers earlier today. I know he liked it because he gobbled them up as fast as he could gobble. Feeding dogs Chinese food may not be the optimum dietary move, but I will get him regular dogfood this afternoon.

I have an eye doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon in PTC. I would like to follow that up with a bison burger at Ted's Montana Grill. It probably won't happen. The Spalding County Fair begins tonight. Corndogs, dust, flu germs. What a lovely combination. Last year, Kate went to the fair with us and took some really impressive pictures. For some reason, I am thinking about the black and white pictures she took of the abandoned telephone booths.

There have been a lot of changes. I was reading a magazine article about earlier times in Griffin. There were so many different businesses in Griffin back in those days. Textile mills. Bakeries. Men's Clothing stores. Pharmacists. A lot of industry and commerce going on.

Now, there is commerce going on, but the big ticket industries are long gone. Unemployed numbers are near 20%. It is sad. Everyone is waiting on an upturn in the economy. Meanwhile, there is no industry. No new jobs. Nothing changing, other than it is quite clear that no one is cooking at home anymore, since new restaurants seem to open up every month or so.

Oh well, the Central of Georgia Railroad train chugging down the tracks in downtown Griffin, a continous pile of smoke belching from its stack, that is a long gone image of the vibrancy of Griffin. No cotton. No pimento peppers. Damn few peaches. No textiles loaded on the trains. Sounds like a blues song.

Gloom to glorious

The day began with rain. I drove over to the courthouse, checked in with one Judge, tried to see another Judge's secretary, then filed my pleading and served a copy on the other side. Afterward, I went back to the office and took some calls and made some calls and waited for the rain to end and the sun to burn off the clouds. By lunch the sun was high in the sky and the only clouds were small, fluffy ones which offered no harm.

The judge's secretary called me and we arranged for a telephone conference later in the day. As the time ticked off toward that meeting, I handled new clients and dealt with going concerns. Finally, the phone rang and the judge and the other lawyer and myself met together by phone and discussed the case.

We began to argue. We argued this point. We presented that point. We listened to the judge. I listened. I responded. I was quiet. I was confident in the possibility of reaching the ultimate goal: postponement and restructuring the litigation toward the ultimate issues and resolutions. AT one point, it got pretty hot, but it ultimately headed toward the goal.

Finally, the case was postponed and the parties were required to dig into the law and the possibility of placing the case on its proper place was reached. As we hung up, I was all by myself in my office. Kate had left earlier to pick up Cindy and take her home. Downstairs, the secretary for the other lawyer was closing up and turning off lights.

And I was yelling at the walls. Doing doughnuts in my office chair. Later, I arrived home and high fived everyone. Even the dog. The sun shone brightly.

Free baseball, but not enough

The damn Twins won it. My beloved Tigers got beat. They choked their lead in the American League Central and then lost 6-5 in the twelfth inning. Now the Twins play the Yankees. I think the Yankees in four. I hate the damn Twins. I like most of the teams in the American League, but the Twins are an exception. And the Yankees.

Just in case you wanted to know:

1. Atlanta Braves
2. Detroit Tigers
3. St. Louis Cardinals
4. Chicago White Sox
5. Baltimore Orioles
6. Tampa Bay Rays
7. Oakland A's
8. Pittsburgh Pirates
9. Cleveland Indians

Everyone else. But, I hate the Mets, the Phillies, the Reds, the Dodgers, the Astros, the Yankees (a recent development, since I used to like the Yankees over everyone. That is when the Yankees were Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford and Joe Pepitone, etc.).

My ultimate World Series would be Atlanta vs. Detroit. In seven, with the Braves winning in the bottom of the fifteenth, where we could all enjoy "free baseball" courtesy of Skip Carey.

A drive through the mountains and a baseball game

One of the advantages of driving around the northern part of the state on Foreclosure Tuesday is you get to see a lot of neat things around the state. For instance, U.S. 27, which runs from Chattanooga and the Gulf has a particularly interesting drive between Cedartown and Rome. You are driving up from Cedartown and the road keeps climbing higher into the Southern Apalachians until you top off and the road does a slow curve downward as you see the valleys on either side of the highway. You get a real broad view of the land dropping away from the highway. It is a magnificent view.

Then, I drove over from Rome to Calhoun, and since I didn't have a bid on the Gordon County cryout, I continued on up to I-75 and headed north to the state highway from I-75 to Chatsworth, the county seat of Murray County. This route takes you from New Echota, which was the capitol of the Cherokee Nation, up along the Trail of Tears to Chief Vann's house. It isn't a significant route aesthetically, but the history breathes along the road. You can almost hear the moans and sighs of the ghosts of the Cherokees and Creeks as you pass where they walked from their homes to Indian Territory in Oklahoma.

At the courthouse in Chatsworth, you sit up above the rest of the town and can see the high mountains east of town where Fort Mountain is located and the stacked stones which mark an Indian fortress or defensive fortifications for de Soto and his Spanish conquistadores. That is a lot of history. Today, as I left the Trail of Tears and headed eastward toward Chatsworth on 52, the low clouds were hanging thickly on the mountains. I wished at the time that I had time to sit and view the mountains and their cloud cover.

I went back to Calhoun and cried one out there and got to talk to several potential investors who were concerned about the investability of real estate in the present market. It was fun to talk to them and look over the center of downtown Calhoun. They have done a lot of work on the downtown area. The old movie theater is renovated. There is a nice outdoor gear store. A couple of restaurants.

Afterward, I headed east on 53 toward Dawsonville. The road lead from Gordon County and headed into some deep woods as the road crossed into Pickens County. A small creek or river ran down rocks on the side of the highway. Dogwoods and Rhododendron provided cover from time to time.

When we got to 575 from Kennesaw toward Jaspar and Ellijay, the route took a southern route toward Atlanta until we got to Tate, which is the Marble Capital of Georgia. The road headed into Tate, where there was a marble elementary school and marble buildings downtown, but just as the road curved downward away from Tate Elementary, I got to see a beaver cross the road in a panic. A beaver, mind you. Not a rabbit or squirrel or cat or dog. A beaver. That was a first.

The road headed on through various forests until the road finally led me to Dawsonville, home of "Awesome Bill" Elliott, probably the most famous NASCAR driver from Georgia. To get to the present courthouse, you had to drive a 450 degree turn around the original courthouse on the square. Otherwise, the town is pretty blue collar until you get near Ga 400 and all of the outlet malls and shopping malls and fast food restaurants. I must say I got to see my first Sugar Maple turning. I tried to take its picture with my camera phone. Things like that don't come out real well.

I continued on Ga 52 until the road led over a bridge which sat perched about fifteen or twenty feet above the present waters of Lake Lanier. Last year at this time, the water was probably about a hundred feet below that level, before all of the rain we have received this year. As I passed over the bridge, two fisherman were standing in a fishing boat tossing lures at the water.

I finished my foreclosure tour in Jefferson, where Dr. Crawford Long utilized ether gas, which up till then, had been used to amuse the young folk at parties, to give relief to his patients. Many medical breakthroughs have come from wartime. Damn few have come from fun at parties.

I headed back home down I-85 and had to stop in McDonough to eat something, since I was feeling kind of weak otherwise.

My day was supposed to end with work on a motion for summary judgment for a case which was scheduled to start tomorrow morning. However, I had three telephone calls from one of the judge's secretaries telling me the case would start next Tuesday. I will find out the skinny tomorrow.

I was watching the Twins and the Tigers in a playoff game tonight. The Tigers were up 5-4 in the bottom of the eleventh with one out and Twin runners on first and third. The announcers were talking about how the relief pitcher for the Tigers was big on getting the other team to ground into double plays. With two strikes on the batter, the pitcher delivered a bouncing ground ball toward the second baseman. All he had to do was catch the ball, step on second and throw the batter out at first. It was perfect.

Except the second baseman allowed the ball to go past him into the outfield, the runner on third scored and the Twins ended up with runners on first and third with one out. I was so irritated that I turned off the game, threw my Tigers cap on my desk and came downstairs to write this. Now I don't know what has happened in the game, so I am going to quit the blog here and look up the score. If the Tigers have lost, I will have to pull for the Cardinals and the Angels. They are all hot right now. There might be a chance.

Meanwhile, I think the Braves have the possibility of a good year next year. A lot of things will happen between now and next April. Football. March Madness. Minor League hockey. A whole brand new year.

Today, it was the beauty of Autumn and the Tigers blowing a chance to win the American League Central.

False starts in the morning

Why is it true that everytime I place the collar around the dog and step into the darkness of the early morning to allow him to make his morning deposit, that he will inevitably do something like stop dead in his tracks somewhere in the darkness of the carport for no apparent reason? When that happens, I usually stumble over him or suddenly pull to a halt in trying to step through the darkness out to the front yard. This morning, I got up and asked Tex if he wanted to go outside. He jumped down to the floor and walked over to the mud room to wait for me to place his collar around his neck, then he moved over too the door to wait for me to open the door. Then I opened the door and he stepped into the darkness of the carport. As he trotted around the car in the carport and started heading out toward the grass, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. At that point, I tripped over his body, hunching down on the cold concrete of the carport. I still don't know what caused him to decide to stop there on the concrete. At that point, I had to pull on his leash to get him out of the carport and then pull him further onto the grass. Sometimes what goes on in his brain is hard to fathom.

Apples in the mountains

Tomorrow I take on the moral equivalent of Stuart's ride around McLellan during the peninsula campaign of the early Civil War. Polk, Gordon, Murray, Dawson, Habersham and Jackson Counties. Driving up past the yankees on their right flank, through Cobb County, I bypass the yankees who are now gathering in Rome and Cartersville and head west to Cedartown, up to Calhoun and Chatsworth, then swing down south on to Dawsonville, then surprise, move north to Clarksville and then on to Jefferson,before I head back to the office.

I think that will be quite a surprise for tomorrow.

I am eating an apple we picked south of Ellijay. These Honeycrisp apples are pretty good. I must say that the Granny Smiths are perfect for the big bowl of melted caramel. Tart and firm, but perfect contrast with the thick, rich sweetness of the caramel.

That was good until the fish sandwich in Dahlonega and the pint glass of Guiness. I could have used two, but Cindy wouldn't have let me drive for the rest of the day, so I rode down to Dawsonville, or "Awesomeville" as we called it on Saturday.

The skies were pale blue and there were no clouds in the sky. We enjoyed as much of the outdoors as we could without hiking up some mountain in North Georgia. In double time.

In a few weeks, we will be hiking up in the mountains. The air will be even cooler. We might smell woodsmoke and try to catch some little trout fish. I think we better borrow the waders, although Momma says if they leave the house, they don't come back into the basement.

Right now, the Honey crisp is good for eating and maybe it will keep the doctors away for another week. So the saying goes.

Pestilence, death and destruction

Yesterday it rained. Today it rained. Tonight it may rain. Tomorrow it is supposed to be sunny and cool. Tomorrow is Foreclosure Day and we will be travelling through the mountains. I mean "I" of course. Kate will be driving east and Patti will be motoring in a circle to the west and south of here.

Wednesday, we return to the courthouse for civil matters. I am supposed to start a case at trial on Wednesday. I am in somewhat of a pickle, in the sense that I need for this case to go away and start over again in a new manifestation. It took me a month of thinking about the trial of the case before I figured out the problem with the case from the beginning.

Sometimes it takes me some time before I finally figure out the basis of the case. In this particular case, the lawyer for the plaintiff wanted to avoid trying the case in front of the assigned judge. So he recast the complaint and had it tried before one of the other judges. The problem is that there is no reason why the case should be retried. It was tried before. He is doing a bit of forum shopping.

He is also trying to recast the case to get more in damages. The problem is that the res of the case makes certain requirements on the parties. He really can't do what he wants to do. It is my duty to convince the judge of that conclusion.

But tomorrow is Hillbilly Dispossession Day. So I sleep early and get on the horse first thing in the morning. The three horsemen ride tomorrow.

A beautiful Fall day

The sky was incredibly blue this morning, with no clouds or humidity. When I awoke it was quite cool and felt like Autumn had really come. Cindy and Kate got up relatively early and we headed for north Georgia. We headed up 575 toward Canton, Jasper and Ellijay. We made Ellijay by ten thirty and turned off 575, down Ga 52 toward Dahlonega.

The apple stands were busy with tourists from Atlanta and elsewhere and we stopped at the Hillcrest Orchard and parked next to a thick hedge of ragweed. Exiting the car, we walked into the store and picked about a bushel of apples of varying sizes, shapes, colors and varieties. Buying the apples, we also bought two styrofoam bowls of apple slices, covered with caramel sauce. Afterward, we sat out on the bench in front of the store and ate our slices of apple, covered with caramel.

Afterward, we drove on down Highway 52 toward Dahlonega and finally saw signs for Burt's Pumpkin Farm. We pulled in to the parking lot and grabbed a wheelbarrow and entered the yard with all the pumpkins, gourds, squash and other assorted Fall accoutrement. As we looked over the huge yard full of pumpkins, we first saw the very large orange pumpkins, large enough to sleep a young toddler. I was reminded of "Peter, Peter Pumpkin-Eater, had a wife and couldn't keep her. Put her in a pumpkin shell, and there he kept her very well." I thought, perhaps, that I could cut open this particular pumpkin, pull out the seeds and actually sleep a small person quite adequately.

We ended up not buying the large size pumpkin. Instead, we bought various varieties of pumpkins: orange, blue, white, orange and green, striped, tiny, and others. As I watched Cindy and Kate inspect and various pumpkins and place them in their wheelbarrow. Meanwhile, I stood against the back wall of the pumpkin store and smelled the spicy smell of pumpkin bread being cooked in the kitchen behind me. I had to have some of the bread.

By the time we had enough pumpkins in our wheelbarrow, I suggested to Cindy and Kate that we could use some of that pumpkin bread, which we did buy. Later, we drove on into Dahlonega and found a perfectly good Irish pub right next to our parking space. We had to make use of it.

So we sat under the television set showing the Alabama-Kentucky game, and drank Guinness and ate our sandwiches. It was delightful and the temperature outside was delightful. Oddly, we were inside a screened in portion of the patio, which had open areas above the screens and where there could have been a door. We decided that this was a test for mosquito intelligence. The smart ones watched the dumb ones slam into the screen and then went around the screen. Meanwhile, the dumb ones just slammed their tiny bodies into the screen and watched as the smart ones speeded around the screen and feasted on the bodies of the patrons of the restaurant.

After lunch, we headed down Ga 400 to the Prime Outlet Mall in Dawsonville. It was a long day and quite a bit of shopping. Georgia lost to LSU. W&L lost to Randolph-Macon. Thank goodness, the time together was worthwhile. Fall is more than just football games on television. No, sometimes you need to go to the game in person.

Driving in the mountains

Fall is definitely here. Yesterday it was sunny with white, fleecey clouds floating upon the sky. Now it is overcast and there is a cool drizzle. We were going to go see the Braves before the season was over. The season is over. I was looking forward to a Chicago dog and a beer. But Kate decided we would probably get wet. We can still go tomorrow or Sunday, but Georgia plays LSU at 3:00 tomorrow and I've got to meet with a client on Sunday afternoon.

Tomorrow we are going to get up early and eat breakfast and drive up into the mountains and go to a pumpkin farm and enjoy the North Georgia mountains before the game begins. It is Octoberfest in Helen and I would love a cold German beer and a wurst and some saurkraut. That would be fun. I think I would listen to the game on the radio for that experience.

Gosh! October, one of my favorite months. Cool in the morning when I walk the dog. Cool at night when I watch the light of the day fade into the west. Feel the warmth of the day fade away. Football. The beginning of hockey. The leaves turning colors. Bags of boiled peanuts. Hot chocolate. Apples. Pumpkins of varying colors and shades and stripes.

Soup for lunch. Soup for supper. Oatmeal and tea in the morning. A container of tea for the drive to the office.

Halloween and a big bonfire in the darkness of the night. Candy and chili and a trip to the Varsity. Chili dogs and frosted orange and onion rings.

I would love to drive up to Lexington and watch a football game at the new Wilson Field while the sun goes down against the Blue Ridge. Sugar maples and oaks on the hills. The moon rising above the old brick buildings. The sound of music coming from the fraternity houses on red square. Walking down the sidewalk past the R.E.Lee Episcopal Church. Looking back over my shoulder at the collonade in the moonlight. Thinking about those four years I spent there.

Sometimes I wish I'd stayed. Fall is the prime season in Lexington, Virginia. Spring is best in Griffin. The azaleas blooming. The dogwood blossoms. The warmth of the sunshine. The trees leafing out with their tender green.

Right now is good. Typing my thoughts on the computer. Kate and Cindy and me watching a movie on the Friday night. Tex yawning on the sofa. Soon, I'll climb in bed and read a bit. Morning will come before we know it and we will be driving up to the pumpkin farm. A day in the early Fall. With the girls. Fun.

Military Industrial Complex

I found myself on the road this morning, with Kate by my side, driving toward Kathleen, Georgia, a small community just north of Perry, just south of Warner Robins. Kathleen was once a small hamlet, a farming community, a few wooden farmhouses interspersed between the peach trees and the pecans.

Now it is a series of residential communities, as Houston County is transformed into one of the more vibrant residential communities in Georgia. I have found that military bases do have a tendency to create economic zones in Georgia, which thrive, despite the economic downturn in Georgia, generally.

This certainly points to something that Dwight Eisenhower, West Point educated military man and President, said toward the end of his final year in office in 1959. In a speech before congress, President Eisenhower warned against thebed growth of what he referred to as the "military-industrial complex." President Eisenhower apparently found a threat to the stability and health of this country in the combination of military might and its needs. As long as our military was allowed to be the reason for our economic growth, we ran the risk of relying on the military for strengths which are dangerous to the rest of our interests.

This, of course, was ironic since President Eisenhower was a military man, who would ordinarily be assumed to desire a strong military. Apparently, President Eisenhower had the ability to understand that strength in some ways made us weak in others.

A strong military is important to the safety of our country from threats from other countries. However, a strong military cannot provide the impetus for our economy in a general sense. Our economy must be broad and cover many needs of the country. Agricultural strength, monetary strength, housing strength, strength in utilizing and conserving our natural resources are all important to the relative strength of our country. None of these assets are necessarily tied to the military. President Eisenhower understood that a strong country required a balanced economy.

Northern Houston County used to be a very strong agricultural area. Peaches and pecans, chickens, pigs and cattle all vied for the acreage of the area. Now those agricultural uses are gone. Those farms are covered with little VA houses to house the members of our military and their families.

Today, we visited a young couple who grew up in Gwinnett County, in an area which was very rural when I was a child. Now the couple live in a nice house in Kathleen, Georgia, and their yard has two or three pecan trees as future shade for their house. Of course, they may be reassigned by the time that happens. And no farmer will cultivate those pecans and sell them on the market. Pecans are a strong source of antioxidants and provide a source of agricultural strength in Central Georgia. However, none of that is happening. Instead, the pecan farms and peach trees are replaced with houses, streets, shopping centers, etc. which are the ultimate result of the combination of Robbins Air Force Base and a large expanse of cheap land, formerly used for agricultural purposes.

The question is this: what is the better use of this land? No one has asked that question. No one has answered that question. But you can't eat houses. On the other hand, Warner Robins and Columbus (which has Fort Benning as a major component of its economy) are both thriving in comparison to other communities in Georgia which don't have the advantage of a military base nearby. And there are fewer and fewer military bases in Georgia.

Perhaps President Eisenhower knew something we still don't know.

The invisible wind

The tiller sits firmly in my hand,
A natural fit against the smooth wood,
And the stern rudder will turn
With the desires of my heart;
Yet the wind will blow where it will
Fair wind or fowl, against the tide,
My little boat will beat against
The call of prevailing winds
Until I find myself in port again
Despite my best efforts.