Friday night it was My Darling Clementine with Henry Fonda. Never have cared too much for Henry Fonda films, but this movie is the exception. Of course Victor Mature as Doc Holiday isn't the best Doc Holiday on film-and in fact the unhistorical death of Doc H at the OK corral in this version (denying him his conversion to Catholicism) does not sit well esthetically. But Fonda is a better Wyatt Earp than Kirk Russell, Kevin Costner, or Burt Lancaster for that matter. I agree with Pro Ecclesia that Van Kilmer was the best Doc Holiday.
Saturday morning I weeded the garden. After breakfast I finished the 2-foot chicken wire fence around the garden (posts made of old pallets). The purpose of the fence is to ward off domestic pets, children, and possibly rabbits-although I think the presence of a dog takes care of the latter.
Spent much of the afternoon working in the office while number one and number two sons did some weeding and preparing the next section of garden for planting spinach on Monday (that's today!) by tilling in some chicken litter, peat, and manure.
Sunday after Mass we talked to two friends who are going to Mexico for the feasts of Bl. Juan Diego and Our Lady of Guadalupe. They are trying to talk me into going with them. If I work hard enough, maybe I can swing it. I have prayed before the Shroud of Turin. I'd like to do the same in front of the Tilma-of course I'd like to see it with Mrs. Curley. So maybe we'll wait a bit and go together when the kids are older.
Saturday and Sunday saw our first football scrimmages of the season. Last year number 3 son and I were demolished in every single game by number 1 & 2 sons. (This was departure from the past years when we were pretty evenly matched.) Number 1 & 2 are getting bigger, stronger, and faster. But this year I think we have chance to post a few wins (hopefully the big one at Thanksgiving.) Number 3 son is catching the ball more consistently this year, throwing it further, and running faster. And I proved to the older sons twice yesterday that they still can't catch me from behind (although secretly I think it is psychological). So maybe we can squeak a win here or there without me blowing out my knee.
Boys found a new cache of muscadine grapes-technically not on our property, but technically not on anyone else's either. They are by the road and about 2 feet beyond our property line on the southern side. They picked 5 pounds yesterday in about 15 minutes-and there is more to be had. I'm not sure Mrs. Curley is up for another round of making jam, but I'm thinking that she's thinking of a pie or something. (Have you ever heard of a grape pie????) (Wish we had the tools to make some wine.)
Went to my neighbor yesterday (the one who lost 15 chickens to our dog) to let him know our Barred Rock and Buff Orpingtons are about 8 weeks old and that I'd be obliged if he came over and picked some out some time. What does he say? "I have 104 chickens now-why don't you pick some out of our flock. I have some bantams I'm trying to get rid of-the perfect chicken to train your new puppy against-or take a game hen or two-they're good setters." What a way to turn the tables. Anyway-he may want a couple Buff Orpingtons, so we may trade. But you can't wish for neighbors better than the ones we have on both sides.
Feast of the Little Flower. We have a daughter named for her. If you look at my parents generation, Theresa (Teresa, Therese) is almost as common as Mary. Of course nowadays you are hard pressed to find either. Of my 100 or so students last year in a Catholic high school (about half of which were girls), I had exactly one Mary and not a single Teresa.
Our Theresa has birthday this week. She missed her patron saint's feast by only a few days.
Oremus pro invicem!
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