Castle of Memories...

Drawing of Castle Vyvyan by Wilbur Hunt (Linda's grandfather)
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Our family had a very full and wonderful summer together, for which we are endlessly grateful. It was a time of music, laughter, simple joys, and the good company of family and friends - the most cherished moments being those of watching the children, those magically happy siblings, spending good quality time together. One of many highlights was our foray into the small world of our local farmer's market, where not only did we enjoy the charming and homegrown offerings from vendors hailing from not very far away but in fact from very nearby - but we also set up our very own Fatima Farm table, selling once or twice a week vegetables from our summer garden and proffering our woodburned art which, to our great surprise, drew a modest amount of customers - some of whom became sort of "regulars." It was inspiring to meet and learn from some folks who have been selling what they grow for decades now, and it was inspiring to meet and share with others who are budding homesteaders just like us. Our profits are counted in experience and blessings, and so, again, we are grateful.

At summer's end, for all seasons come to an end, we had a magnificent adventure making a family pilgrimage of sorts out of our trip to take our oldest two back to college and school for the Fall. The van was packed full with things and people to be certain; there was not an inch to spare - but still it was a continuation of our time of music, laughter, simple joys and good company. Like the car trips of my childhood, we enjoyed the sights that the various states and cities and roadside vistas had to offer - many details of which are more or less recorded in our family travel notebook which has been filled with notes and sketches from our family trips since the children were very little. Destinations, routes, side-treks and snafus, funny quotes and signs and pitstops, prayers said and music listened to along the way, interesting sights, little drawings of farmland, rivers, mountains, bridges, churches, houses, animals and city skylines - a variety of these things are put down into what has become a family mainstay and much enjoyed memory book. Once we saw a camel in the Ozarks, no kidding! 

If you flip through the book you'll see, to our children's great delight, visits to my grandfather's castle in Indiana. The first time I ever visited there as a child my family drove from South Texas all the wee hours of the night through and arrived just before dawn. It was we three little girls and our older brother and Mom & Dad, very likely in the little Ford Fiesta (how it made the trip only the angels know). I doubt any child would ever forget peering out of the car windows as we approached "The Castle" - that mysterious and much-anticipated destination point after forever hours of traveling and years of imagined wonders - peering through the dark silhouettes of foreign trees that rose suddenly in the flat Indiana farmland upon a hilly and wooded winding road - with a funny feeling in one's tummy, until suddenly Dad was turning onto a steep and crunching gravel drive that wound to the right up through the trees. And then the dark castle-shaped shadow loomed before us. We clambered out of the car and, after a moment's hesitation (since, as Mom pointed out, it was so very early), our parents let us ring the bell - not a doorbell but a real bell on a rope hanging by the thick wooden door (with an intricately-faced knocker) tucked in a real stone castle. Our grandpa was not very long in opening the heavy door, which creaked and groaned a little as it should, and immediately after greeting us all and leading us in - it was all stony and dark and cool and tiered and labynthine and not like any other place we had ever seen - and we had never met my grandpa or step-grandmother before - they ushered us in and commenced to make us homemade blueberry pancakes, the smell and taste of which is a practically indelible mark upon my memory.

While our children never had the pleasure of meeting their great-grandfather, the creative genius behind this unusual hermitage hidden in the woods somewhere out there outside of small-town Indiana, they surely have a claim on a similar wonderful experience of childhood. They have raced through the stony halls, ventured into the dark dungeon, scaled up the narrow stone stairs to the tower, feasted their eyes and imaginations upon the array of weaponry, tapestries, stone and wood features, and filled their hearts with the story-book ambiance the place affords especially to a young soul. One of my older brothers and his wife took the place over from Grandpa when the time came and raised their children there (now grown) and have added rooms and a carriage house (in the spirit of Grandpa, designing all themselves and building personally by hand). A family cemetery was also begun there when my Dad died, and so he and Mom now are laid to rest on site, making the place ring all the more with memory and significance.

As September turns to October, we cherish the memories and look forward to making more, missing our oldest children who are away, anticipating their return, and dreaming of future fairytale adventures that may come. May we always maintain a natural piety, and love the good life, and desire to make wonderful things that last!