We were at the Bothwell Lodge State Historic Site near Sedalia, Missouri. Our tour guide lead us through the rooms of the mansion that has been very well-preserved and kept as nearly like it would have been when the owner lived there.
One of the first items I was fascinated with, left there where Mr. Bothwell would have placed it, was this radio. An RCA Radiola, Super-Heterodyne. This was a radio like I had never seen before, so I used my cell phone and took this photo.
Took the photo with my cell phone…this device that I think I can not live without, but did for many, many years. This expensive gadget that I use for phone calls and texts, and to listen to a podcast once in a while or my favorite music…streaming online.
What would Mr. Bothwell and his family and friends have listened to on this RCA Radiola? We learned that he died in 1929, just a couple of months before the stock market crash. What would the news have been like then? How would the stock market crash have been presented? And how often did they (the Bothwell’s) even turn this thing on? Electricity was not what we take for granted now.
I would love to know if this radio still works.
There are many deeper questions that come to mind as I look at this image and think of our modern-day communications. I could add some here and go on and on. This is not the day for me to do that. I’m guilty of partaking too much of that news culture…something I continue to work on.
But what draws me in is the scene and the story. The scene: this beautiful, well-preserved, well-built mansion in the heart of Missouri. The story, shown simply by the placement of this RCA Radiola Super-Heterodyne in what looked to be the center of that home. A place of prominence, of importance. Not so portable, not able to fit in a purse or pocket. And yet, an all important connection to the world beyond their doorstep.
We are not so different.
Linking up with Sarah and Leon for Scene and Story.
We took some time to ourselves Sunday afternoon and explored a familiar place, Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, near Columbia, Missouri.
How often do you get to see an eagle, on her nest, with young ones? And then how often do you get to see two occupied nests in one day? Here are a few images that I just have to share.
The adult eagle is in the upper left corner, and the nest in the lower right. Notice the heads of the two young ones!
This is as close as my lens would allow, but it is still so amazing to see these beautiful birds.
This is the second nest we were able to see, with the adult keeping a watchful eye.
This area is simply beautiful. We saw so much more than my pictures can tell.
And through the trees we could see turtles sunning on logs, but they escaped quickly into the water if we moved closer.
This is a place I am certain we will return to many times.
Here is the scene…just a few miles from my hometown in East Central Illinois, riding along with my daughter, grandson, and best friend, we were looking at a few farms within a two mile radius. The whole purpose of our drive out there was to see baby goats, and we saw so much more than we bargained for…thanks to my friend who knew where to take us.
This photo stays in my mind because I was so surprised to see a herd of elk, with a couple of bison thrown in. Initially this herd was way off in the distance, but that breeze carried our scent and got the attention off all these animals, and they came running.
Though the elk and bison were impressive they were not quite as entertaining as the goats.
The babies were adorable, especially as they tried to climb on a haystack that had just been placed in their pen.
Mama and her babies were just as curious about us as we were about them.
It was a perfect day for our little farm tour, for lunch with my daughter and grandson, for time spent with my dear friend. So much of that you just can’t capture in a photograph. Sometimes you just have to simply be present and soak it all in.
I am sharing this post with Scene and Story, a once a month link up where creatives can share a favorite story or photo on their blogs or on Flickr.
I’m sitting at a booth in my favorite coffee shop. Alone, staring into the old white ceramic mug that warms my hands, watching the steam rise, and savoring the rich scent of that dark brew. The morning sun pours in through the frosty window, warming me on such a cold fall morning. The leaves are gone from the trees, leaving bare branches in silhouette against the deep blue sky.
No one else is here. The regulars have all shuffled off to continue their daily lives. The relative silence is welcomed and yet frightening in its own way. Now I’m alone with my thoughts. Is this a good thing?
I sit alone for quite a while. Meanwhile, cooking sounds come from the kitchen. A fragrance like chicken soup wafts by me, and my stomach rumbles. Then I’m back in my own reverie.
A different noise rouses me out of that quiet place, and I look up to see an old man sliding into the seat across from me in ‘my’ booth. I don’t think I know this man, but something of him seems very familiar. Why did he sit in my booth when the place is empty? He has a cup of coffee in front of him, too, but I don’t know how it got there.
I greet him, “Good morning.”
He says not a word, but looks at me with piercing blue eyes. Why do I feel like he knows everything about me? I look at him carefully, and to this day I don’t know how to put into words who or what I saw. This Mystery sitting before me, knowing me fully, said more to me without words.
The Mystery revealed my grief. I had come to this favorite coffee shop to find the essence of my Dad, who had died recently. My heart was heavy.
A profound and very real sense of love overcame me, and tears fell down my face. The morning light from the window found its way into my chest, and I was comforted like a child being wrapped in a blanket and rocked back and forth.
It’s okay. I love you. It’s all going to be okay.
I wanted to stay there forever.
A slight stirring brought me out of this dream like place. I was looking at my coffee, my hands still holding the sides of the mug and feeling the warmth. I breathed in the aroma again, took a sip and let it warm me, and looked across the table. No one was there. The coffee cup remained, steam rolling upward as before, and some of the coffee had been consumed.
Had I been dreaming?
My face was still wet with tears. All my despair and loneliness had vanished.
This one is different, this Scene and Story. The story is fiction and the drawing is my own. All of it prompted by a wonderful conversation in which I was asked to imagine what it would be like if the Holy Presence sat down across from me in a coffee shop. I am sharing my post through a link up with Sarah of Paisley Rain Boots and Leon of Sea Blue Lens. Click on the link to each blog and you’ll see other bloggers have also shared their Scene and Story.