Jolly Old England

So how is Matt doing over across the pond in England?

Jolly good! Thanks for asking!

Communication has been tough – since his cell phone doesn’t have an international plan and the internet in his flat is too sketchy for Skype.

And then there’s the time difference. (We keep one clock in the house set to “Matt time”!)

But thanks to Facebook – we know he’s alive and well and having the time of his life!

OxfordBut that’s to be expected – he’s in Oxford after all – soaking in the history!

He stood in the dining room where Lawrence of Arabia ate.

He meet C.S. Lewis’s personal secretary – in person – and talked to him.

Windsor CastleHe toured Windsor Castle – while the queen was in residence – but didn’t get an audience with her majesty.

archers hole windsor castleOf course – after reading many Henty books and playing endless hours of Age of Empires in his youth – he would notice and take a picture of the archer’s hole in the castle wall.

I wonder if it looked like he imagined it would?
Roman Baths It still amazes me to know he can hop on a bus or train and spend the day at the Roman Baths in Bath, Somerset.

But I know he’s still my son –

oxford book storeSince he immediately found the book store!

That’s my boy!

The Roads

My sweet, wonderful niece Sarah is my guest blogger again today! I think you will enjoy her thoughts as much as I have…

The Roads C.S. Lewis

I love all the poems that Auntie M posts here – there is such a beauty and peacefulness about poems. Even when they include great passion or longing, still, there is a feeling about them that everything is going to be okay. There’s a peace.

Here’s a poem I love to get out every Autumn and read through. There’s something about Fall that makes me want to travel and see things like the colors in the trees and the richness of the harvest, or even the faces of my friends before the winter snows holes us up in our respective cities.

The Roads
By C. S. Lewis

I stand on the windy uplands among the hills of Down
With all the world spread out beneath, meadow and sea and town,
And ploughlands on the far-off hills that glow with friendly brown.

And ever across the rolling land to the far horizon line,
Where the blue hills border the misty west, I see the white roads twine,
The rare roads and the fair roads that call this heart of mine.

I see them dip in the valleys and vanish and rise and bend
From shadowy dell to windswept fell, and still to the West they wend,
And over the cold blue ridge at last to the great world’s uttermost end.

And the call of the roads is upon me, a desire in my spirit has grown
To wander forth in the highways, ‘twixt earth and sky alone,
And seek for the lands no foot has trod and the seas no sail has known:

For the lands to the west of the evening and east of the morning’s birth,
Where the gods unseen in their valleys green are glad at the ends of the earth
And fear no morrow to bring them sorrow, nor night to quench their mirth.