Patient readers have endured my griping about the perils of the recent move -- especially the @#$@ wasps, which stung me up again yesterday. Nevertheless, now that I've managed to get the secure satellite connection working, there are some advantages to living out here.
On Sunday, I took my little boy swimming for the first time. He is three. There is a lake near here, fed by one of the streams that eventually reach confluence with the Rappahannock river.
We followed the stream up a cataract of stones from the base, climbing over the stones until we reached the spillway at the top. The lake was spread out before us. Beowulf wanted to go on, but of course he does not know how to swim like his namesake:
Swimming was a popular sport, both to compete in and to watch, and it seems according to texts that it was considered quite fair to try and drown your opponent. Some of the heroes in the sagas are even said to have competed in swimming competitions whilst wearing their armour. (This is possible. We have tried it with the tunic, trousers and shoes, as well as wearing a mail shirt. The effect is to place your body in a more legs down position in the water. This makes for tiresome swimming, and we found that the Breast stroke was the only really viable way to swim.)I put the boy up on my shoulders, and walked right out into the lake. It was rather like swimming in a mailshirt -- add fifty pounds to your shoulders -- but it was possible. I swam to the dock about a hundred yards away. I hadn't planned on going out into the water, so I wasn't dressed for it -- when we came out, my clothes were dripping wet and so was my knife. Still, I had chosen the WWII-model Kabar for the hike: if it was good enough for Iwo Jima, it certainly won't be hurt by a passage through a Virginia lake.
Beowulf loved it. He immediately ran back to the bottom of the cataract, wanting to go again. So, we went again: the climb up, and the swim across. After that, I made him sit on the dock and watch me swim alone. I can tell from the interest and joy he shows in it that he is going to be a powerful swimmer in his day.
This morning, while working on the lawn mower, I heard a thrashing of limbs off to my right. I turned my head, and saw that a young stag was walking out of the bushes, not twenty yards away. He looked at me in the most astonished fashion -- four points, still covered in velvet -- and I spoke to him. He did not run, but after a moment, dipped his head down and up again quickly to see how I would react to the threat. I told him not to worry, that I was not hunting at the moment, and indeed he did not seem to worry at all. He passed on his way without fear, so far as I could tell.
There remains a lot to be done, and the @#$@# wasps really must go. Still, it's a nice place to be, for as long as we get to be here. Of course, contracts being what they are, in six months or a year we'll have to move again.
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