Mike Oldfield - Flowers of the Forest

In honor of the fallen at Flodden Field.

On September 9, 1513, the Scottish armies of King James IV, Scotland's monarch, and the brother-in-law to King Henry VIII, invaded Northumberland in retaliation for England's invasion of France.  Just before, King Louis XII had invoked with James the Auld Alliance, a mutual defense treaty against the aggression of English kings. 

James IV of Scotland                                                                                    Henry VIII of England

Battle of Flodden Field by Sir John Gilbert (1878)

Warriors of Flodden Field (Pinterest)

For a primer on the battle, go HERE.


The result was the largest single battle between Scotland and England.  It also resulted in the death of the last monarch in battle in English history.

News of Battle: Edinburgh after Flodden

Thomas Jones Baker (1815-1882)

Two hundred years after the battle, a poem entitled "The Flowers of the Forest" was written in memoriam of the Scottish dead of the battle, and later an air was composed and traditionally played on the great Highland pipes.   Today, the song is often played at the funerals of fallen soldiers, particularly those of Scotland. 

***

I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, 
Lasses a-lilting before the dawn of day; 
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning- 
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 

At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning, 
The lasses are lonely, and dowie, and wae; 
Nae daffin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing, 
Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away. 

In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering, 
Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray; 
At fair or at preaching, nae wooing nae fleeching- 
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 

At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming 
'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play; 
But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie- 
The Flowers of the Forest are weded away. 

Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border! 
The English, for ance, by guile wan the day; 
The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost, 
The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay. 

We'll hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking; 
Women and bairns are heartless and wae; 
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning- 
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.


-- Jean Elliot

Mama's Lily by Jed Marum

I have decided that if music doesn't move you, you don't have a heart.

I don't know when I first heard Jed Marum's music, but I know when I first heard of Jed.  I had a coworker (Julia, it was you) that asked me if I had heard this Dallas musician that liked to sing Civil War tunes.  He had just released his Cross over the River album, and it was good.

Fast forward some years, and my wife and I began to attend Celtic Festivals.  The first one that I got to visit with Jed at was the Sherman Highland Games.  We talked Confederate history, Celtic heritage, kilts, and music.  Then he went away to perform.

Later, I visited with him at a Sons of Confederate Veterans convention where we were both set up as vendors.  Two interactions, but they were meaningful, and I consider him to be a friend.

Jed passed away in May, and I still find myself grieving.  Of all the music I keep on my phone, his I listen to the most.  So, you may find me posting a favorite tune - War Between the States or otherwise - from time to time.

This one is about two Union Irish soldiers that happen upon evidence that the horrors of war know no age, gender, innocence or guilt.  I get a catch in my throat each time with this song.

First Monday Trade Days

So today we did a very East Texas thing...

We went to First Monday Trade Days in Canton.  According to the trade days official site, the tradition of "first Monday" began in the 1850s and outgrew the original location on the town square in the 1960s.  Originally, produce, livestock, guns, and who knows what else were bartered and traded, with until the 1930s, wild horses making up a large part.  Now, the sky's the limit.

Photo from Flickr

We set out early because today was going to be a hot one, but the mornings are getting cool, so we lit out to be at the trade days by 9 am or so.

 We parked and checked out Dog Town - the section that has dogs, cats, rabbits and even livestock that is more akin to the ancient days of First Monday.  We recently had to rehome a retriever with a family because she just never got used to us or our lifestyle, so we were curious to see what we could find.  The home feels empty without a pup.

Lily and our cat Ashes.  She liked the cats, but never really seemed to like home.  Not sure why. We're good people.

Among our favorite places is I Am Erica's Flags (say it fast).  The gentleman that runs the store is very knowledgeable about his history and carries a huge selection of historic flags.  We fly our flags, and they wear out quickly, so we bought a couple of Third Nationals and a Bennington flag (Revolutionary War) for my classroom.  As it warmed up we walked the pavilions looking for gifts for Christmas.

The grounds are huge, with (according to the city) over 100 acres of space for 6,000 vendors. If you want high-end stuff, visit the pavilions.  If you want everything else, take a stroll through the open-air parts.

A big reason for our visit was to meet with dog breeders.  Many people come out to sell pets, but our purpose was to visit with people familiar with either Scottish terriers or West Highland terriers (Westies).  After a turn though, we didn't see anything, but one little shop had schnauzers and others, and when we asked if they knew of anyone with westies, they said they had one left of a litter at home (8 miles away).  They offered to bring it out, and we said okay, so after our other shopping they brought a little male westie that we fell in love with immediately.  

So guess who we brought home?

Canton First Monday is a spectacle that every Texan should experience at least once.  Some vendors come each month from other states as well.  A bit of advice: if you've never been, be aware that if you want to see it all you won't be able to do it in a day.  Want to RV it?  They have spaces for a fee.  Might make a fun weekend in the future.

Fool's Paradise

So, against all odds, I finished another book.

To be fair, this is about the third time I have read it, but with master's coursework, a new school year, and all of the responsibilities of adulting, this was quite a feat, in my humble opinion.

This one is Fool's Paradise by John Gierach, and it manages to be a fishing book while not being a fishing book.  Equal parts fishing, traveling, philosophy and humor, this is a book that can be read without thinking too much and you still manage to think.  Confused yet?

Gierach is a prolific writer with a bibliography that includes works like Sex, Death, and Fly-Fishing; Death, Taxes and Leaky Waders; and Standing in a River Waving a Stick.  Without really trying (it would seem) he manages to write about fishing without taking himself too seriously.  

From Simon and Schuster's webpage.

I enjoy Fool's Paradise everytime that I pick it up.  I bought it on a whim not long after it was published on a visit to the fly shop at the nearest Bass Pro Shops (over 2 hours away, I might add) and read through it when life was simpler. Let's take a look at the book.

Ringing in at just under 200 pages, this is a sit-on-the-porch-with-your-coffee book.  Gierach is an old hippy living what would amount to an old hippy's life - seven months of the year fishing and the remaining five writing about it.  And since he lives on the west slope of Colorado, he was plenty to write about.  And his topics are scattered, seemingly random, but in the end, it is a love of fishing, nature, and the quiet camaraderie of "standing in the river waving a stick" to rising trout or bass or whatever, that ties the book together.

I have a number of his books on the shelf with a few more on my Amazon wishlist (hint, hint) but for some reason, I keep coming back to this one.  Perhaps it is nostalgia, perhaps not, but I always end it satisfied but with a deep desire to string up a fly rod, wet a line, and just enjoy the sound and smell of water.  

I suppose that is really the truth - I get to go there without being there, but with plenty to add to my bucket list.

GTT (Gone To Texas)

A few days ago I made a post about the plight of William Alexander Russell.  I cannot help but think that this, in an indirect way, can allude to his story! 

Texas is a unique place, and it has been made more unique by the souls that came to Texas in the wake of the War Between the States.  

The 1861 Project is a collection of 3 albums that include stories from both sides of the war.  I decided long ago that more history can be learned from period music from the war as well as newly-written tunes that attempt to 1) tell stories from the past and 2) help the songwriter come to grips with the reality of the war that changed our national direction.   

If you haven't given it a listen, please do!

W.A Russell - Civil War Veteran

History books tell us that the Civil War ended in 1865.  For those who lost property, loved ones or were injured during the fighting the post-war years proved just as grueling.

William Alexander Russell was born July 7, 1831, near Baton Rouge, but was raised in Mississippi.  From historical records, it appears as though young W.A.'s father died at some point before 1849 because in that year his mother Mary "Polly" (Knight) Russell remarried to Henry Roberts.  In 1850 "Alexander" resided with the Roberts' family in Clarke County, Mississippi, just to the south of Meridian.  He was 19.

On April 17, 1858, W.A. married Catherine Colleen Miller in Choctaw County, Alabama.  Catherine was the daughter of Ross Miller, an immigrant from Ireland before the birth of his daughter.  Family stories tell that Mr. Miller's brogue was so strong his grandchildren could not understand him.

In the 1860 Census W.A. lists his occupation as a farm laborer and since his real estate value is not listed it can be assumed that he worked for others.  A son William is also listed on the census.

When the Civil War came William A. Russell enlisted in Co. D, 36th Mississippi Infantry.  Based on the pension records held in the Texas State Archives his enlistment date of March 12, 1862.  He served until the end of the war.  The unit's history can be found HERE.  Another good bit of information can be found HERE.

When General Lee surrendered his Army of Northern Virginia on April 9, 1865, 3rd Sgt. W.A. Russell was still fighting.  He was captured at Spanish Fort, Alabama, in the defense of Mobile Bay, and was taken to Ship Island Prison Camp along with 561 other soldiers.  The numbers would swell less than a week later when Confederate defeat at Blakely, Alabama, would open Mobile Bay to Federal occupation.  3,056 more soldiers would be transported to Ship Island on April 15, 1865.

             (above is W. A. Russell on the morning roll call while at Ship Island)



It is hard to believe that this spit of land once held 20,000 Union soldiers and a major supply base, as well as a POW camp.  Today, Ship Island of 1860 is now two islands, having been cut in two in by Hurricane Camille in 1969.  The gap between the two islands - Camille's Cut - was the location of the Confederate cemetery on the island.

Russell's stay was not as long as some.  By most accounts, the majority of the Confederate soldiers were paroled and allowed to go home by the middle part of May 1865.  A 1984 National Park Service study, which controls the island today as part of the Gulf Islands National Park is a fascinating read: find it HERE - SHIP ISLAND.  The National Park Service's page dedicated to Fort Massachusetts, Ship Island, and Gulf Islands National Seashore can be found HERE.

When the war was over Russell returned home to Newton County but quickly moved the family back to Baton Rouge where he was born, and hence it can be assumed, had relatives.  Newton County is just south of Meridian, and General Sherman's destruction of that town is legendary.  According to family oral histories what property the family had was burned with nothing left to them but a single chicken. It stands to reason this played a large part in their migration. They did not stay in Baton Rouge for long, however, continuing the trek to Texas. The date of their migration can be somewhat deduced from family stories.  Around 1873 their oldest daughter Catherine (born in 1861) moved with her husband to Texas (Daughter Catherine seems to be around the age of 14 when she married, which was not uncommon).  W.A. and Catherine followed in covered wagons. Wife Catherine was pregnant at the time.  In the summer of 1873, they reached the Sabine River, which as swollen from rains. Their last child John Bunyon Russell was born on the Louisiana side of the river on August 31, 1873. In 1880 the family was in Madisonville, Madison County, Texas. William A. Russell was 49 and their youngest son, John Bunion, was 8.  He was listed as a farmer.

William Alexander Russell died on April 15, 1907, and a year later his widow applied for a pension in his name.  It was accepted and issued by the state of Texas.  He is buried in Willow Hole, Madison County, Texas, as is his wife Catherine.  

(Russell's Grave with Masonic honors at Willow Hole Cemetery)

In studying the history of the Civil War we tend to get caught up in the grand politics, social causes, and rhetoric of "great men."  It is easy to forget the average people who, as in the apparent case of W. A. Russell, had virtually nothing but marched to war to fight in a cause that was very real to him and anything but "Lost."

Sources:

Cotton, Mildred Russell. Background of a Family, Unpublished manuscript. N.D.

Various Census records recovered through Ancestry.com

The National Park Service

Little House in the Big Woods

In the absence of time for adventures and travels, and with graduate coursework underway, the source materials for my Wanderings are limited now at best.  That does not mean, however, that this blog cannot go in other directions.

Mitchell Pass below Scott's Bluff

While traveling this summer, we had not really packed any bedtime stories or picture books for sake of space (to be honest we forgot them) so while visiting Scott's Bluff National Monument we bought a copy of Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I remember as a kid watching reruns of the TV show, but I had never read it, but it became obvious as we went along that my daughter was into this book. While visiting Fort Laramie National Monument as a part of our trip, Sadie worked on the Junior Ranger booklet, and one of the questions was something like, "Why would people want to go west on the Oregon Trail?"  Sadie's answer might as well have been channeling young Laura: "There were too many people in the East!"  The ranger commented that he'd never heard that answer before, but he liked it.  It is possible that she has been listening to her Mom and Dad as well - just saying!

Fort Laramie

So just before we finished it I went on the hunt for the next book.  

Unknown to us at the time, Little House on the Prairie is not the first book - it is actually the 3rd. Covering the Ingalls family's journey west to Indian Territory, Praire makes mention several times of their time in the "big woods" of Wisconsin.  The first book in the series is called Little House in the Big Woods, so I added this to my order and started to read it when it came in as part of our good-night rituals. 

This is truly more of a commentary on Big Woods than Prairie.  If you want a look at the life of pioneer stock and the way life was ordered in the western woodlands, Little House in the Big Woods is a fascinating how-to on wilderness survival.  Stephanie commented it was Carla Emery for kids. Written from the point of view of a young child for other young children, cultural history, and social history, comes alive in microcosm.  At one point, Pa (Charles) makes a smokehouse out of an old log, and Laura describes how the hams get smoked and the sausage was stored.  At another point, Laura helps her mother make cheese. (Want to know what "green cheese" is?  Laura will tell you).   Maple sugaring and oat and wheat threshing, too.  

In current days there have been those that have criticised the writings of Laura Ingalls Wilder as being politically incorrect and therefore inappropriate for children.  For generations, the Little House books have been loved by adults and children alike.  As a society how many of us could have survived the world of the good sturdy pioneer stock that Laura came from?  Coming from a family of living historians I know some of the skills but I question just how long I would last placed in the position of self-reliance that these western pioneers found themselves (and placed themselves freely).  If you homeschool or just simply have a child that you read to, I highly recommend Little House in the Big Woods and Little House on the Prairie.  If not for the history, do it to tick off those that want us to forget about Laura Ingalls Wilder and the time from which she came.