Don's Blog Christmas Collage IV 12-22-25

Here is Christmas Collage IV by Jan Sessions.

Don's Blog: Nothing to Do 12-20-25

Well my bride and I are in the country at the Lake House. There is 'nothing to do on the warm but dreary day until we get out

and start exploring. Our Lake house is on Lake Aspen in Warren County, Missouri. It is an older man-made lake. Here is the lake from the dam. Our house is around the corner to the left, out of sight.

As we walked across the dam and looked down we could see that the emergency pipe at the base of the dam was wide open. The lake level is being lowered for winter rehab and the water is gushing out.

We walk further to a friend's chalet for a closer look at the amount of water coming out. This tributary of Charette Creek originates from this Lake Aspen flow joining several other tributaries to enlarge going south until it enters the Missouri River many miles downstream.

We drive south down  the creeks pathway and hike to the confluence of these Aspen and Alpine Lake  tributaries of Charette Creek.

Near the confluence here is the Lake Aspen tributary. The water is high with an actual current.

The tributary from the Lake Alpine dam is almost stagnant.

We drive back to the house where we see our first ever daytime possum.

Its lunch time and there's 'nothing to do'.

Don's Blog Christmas Collage III

Here is Christmas Collage  III by Jan Sessions. Take your time and enjoy the festive details.

Railcruise America

Ed Boyce, the founder of Innsbrook, loved trains so much that he bought a private train. Some of us 

were able to travel with Ed to Chicago on his Train called Railcruise America. We were met at the train

by Ed who was suitably dressed as the Conductor that he was. These images are from Jan's computer. 

Here I am at the train which as you can see had an Innsbrook design. The train had a dining car as well 

as a party car.

The train took off from St Louis and crossed a bridge to Illinois on a late Friday afternoon before Thanksgiving and went nonstop to Chicago. I remember passing through Springfield, Illinois after dark and the capital was all lit up. I had grown up in La Grange, Illinois two blocks from the Burlington route (that goes from Chicago to Denver) so I have always loved riding the train. Our Railcruise America train passed just south of my hometown near Chicago. The train cars were a treat. There is nothing as wonderful as the dining car.

 We arrived in Chicago and were whisked to a wonderful hotel where we stayed Friday and Saturday nights. When we got to the hotel we were greeted in our rooms by this chocolate train. It did not last long.

On the train among many new Innsbrook friends we met fellow Innsbrook Property Owners Mariette and Dick Palmer. It turned out Mariette and Jan knew each other at Mizzou and that separately unbeknownst to each other Dick and I had been playing tennis together for years. We spent Saturday with the Palmers walking and shopping Chicago' Miracle Mile and ate dinner at  a seafood restaurant that night. We became best friends.

The next day we took our train back to St. Louis. The scenery of course was classic Illinois farmland. I never tire of it.

But my favorite part of train travel is standing at the back of the train

and between cars looking at what we are passing by. There is the undeniablethrill of going though a train crossing and waving at  people stopped at the gates who are watching and waving back.

Several years later Ed offered the trip again. It was different and as much fun as the first trip. One difference

was that in our hotel room the gift was a small wooden train which still graces our Innsbrook mantel on Lake Aspen.

 

We have many things to be thankful for and Innsbrook and Ed Boyce are always high on the list.

Don's Blog Christmas Collage #2

Here is Christmas Collage #2 from the artist, Jan Sessions.

Flower for the Day Rosemary II 12-1-25

LoveSpell: Against Endings 

All the endings in my life  rise up against me  like that sea of troubles  Shakespeare mixed  with metaphors;  like Vikings in their boats  singing Wagner,  like witches  burning at  the stake--  I submit  to my fate.    I know beginnings,  their sweetnesses,  and endings,  their bitternesses--  but I do not know  continuance--  I do not know  the sweet demi-boredom  of life as it lingers,  of man and wife  regarding each other  across a table of shared witnesses,  of the hand-in-hand dreams  of those who have slept  a half-century together  in a bed so used and familiar  it is rutted  with love.    I would know that  before this life closes,  a soulmate to share my roses--  I would make a spell  with long grey beard hairs  and powdered rosemary and rue,  with the jacket of a tux  for a tall man  with broad shoulders,  who loves to dance;  with one blue contact lens  for his bluest eyes;  with honey in a jar  for his love of me;  with salt in a dish  for his love of sex and skin;  with crushed rose petals  for our bed;  with tubes of cerulean blue  and vermilion and rose madder  for his artist's eye;  with a dented Land-Rover fender  for his love of travel;  with a poem by Blake  for his love of innocence  revealed by experience;  with soft rain  and a bare head;  with hand-in-hand dreams on Mondays  and the land of fuck  on Sundays;  with mangoes, papayas  and limes,  and a house towering  above the sea.    Muse, I surrender  to thee.  Thy will be done,  not mine.    If this love spell  pleases you,  send me this lover,  this husband,  this dancing partner  for my empty bed  and let him fill me  from now  until I die.  I offer my bones,  my poems,  my luck with roses,  and the secret garden  I have found  walled in my center,  and the sunflower  who raises her head  despite her heavy seeds.    I am ready now, Muse,  to serve you faithfully  even with  a graceful dancing partner--  for I have learned  to stand alone.    Give me your blessing.  Let the next  epithalamion* I write  be my own.  And let it last  more than the years  of my life--  and without the least  strain--  two lovers bareheaded  in a summer rain.

Erica Jong

*'epithalamion' -  a song celebrating a marriage

Flower for the Day Rosemary II 12-1-25

LoveSpell: Against Endings 

All the endings in my life  rise up against me  like that sea of troubles  Shakespeare mixed  with metaphors;  like Vikings in their boats  singing Wagner,  like witches  burning at  the stake--  I submit  to my fate.    I know beginnings,  their sweetnesses,  and endings,  their bitternesses--  but I do not know  continuance--  I do not know  the sweet demi-boredom  of life as it lingers,  of man and wife  regarding each other  across a table of shared witnesses,  of the hand-in-hand dreams  of those who have slept  a half-century together  in a bed so used and familiar  it is rutted  with love.    I would know that  before this life closes,  a soulmate to share my roses--  I would make a spell  with long grey beard hairs  and powdered rosemary and rue,  with the jacket of a tux  for a tall man  with broad shoulders,  who loves to dance;  with one blue contact lens  for his bluest eyes;  with honey in a jar  for his love of me;  with salt in a dish  for his love of sex and skin;  with crushed rose petals  for our bed;  with tubes of cerulean blue  and vermilion and rose madder  for his artist's eye;  with a dented Land-Rover fender  for his love of travel;  with a poem by Blake  for his love of innocence  revealed by experience;  with soft rain  and a bare head;  with hand-in-hand dreams on Mondays  and the land of fuck  on Sundays;  with mangoes, papayas  and limes,  and a house towering  above the sea.    Muse, I surrender  to thee.  Thy will be done,  not mine.    If this love spell  pleases you,  send me this lover,  this husband,  this dancing partner  for my empty bed  and let him fill me  from now  until I die.  I offer my bones,  my poems,  my luck with roses,  and the secret garden  I have found  walled in my center,  and the sunflower  who raises her head  despite her heavy seeds.    I am ready now, Muse,  to serve you faithfully  even with  a graceful dancing partner--  for I have learned  to stand alone.    Give me your blessing.  Let the next  epithalamion* I write  be my own.  And let it last  more than the years  of my life--  and without the least  strain--  two lovers bareheaded  in a summer rain.

Erica Jong

*'epithalamion' -  a song celebrating a marriage

Flower for the Day Rosemary I 12-1-25

From May to several weeks ago we have enjoyed a large container of rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus). It is a shrub with  evergreen needle-like leaves. It is a member of the sage family, Lamiaceae. We love its pleasing fragrance.

Several weeks ago Jan noticed a flower. 

We had never seen it flower before.

Rosemary leaves are used as a flavoring in foods, such as  stuffing, roasted meats, and marinades. Fresh or dried leaves are used in traditional Mediterranean cuisine, having an aroma of pine which complements many cooked foods. Herbal tea can be made from the dried leaves.

Rosemary was considered sacred to ancient Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks. It was written about by Pliny the Elder (23–79 CE). Several Shakespeare plays refer to the use of rosemary in burial or memorial rites. In Hamlet, Ophelia says, "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember." It likewise appears in winter's Tale in Act 4 Scene 4, where Perdita talks about "Rosemary and Rue". In Act 4 Scene 5 of Romeo and Juliet, Friar Lawrence admonishes the Capulet household to "stick your rosemary on this fair corse, and as the custom is, and in her best array, bear her to church." It is also said that "In the language of flowers it means 'fidelity in love'.''

Flower for the Day Rosemary 12-1-25

From May to several weeks ago we have enjoyed a large container of rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus). It is a shrub with  evergreen needle-like leaves. It is a member of the sage family, Lamiaceae. We love its pleasing fragrance.

Several weeks ago Jan noticed a flower. 

We had never seen it flower before.

Rosemary leaves are used as a flavoring in foods, such as  stuffing, roasted meats, and marinades. Fresh or dried leaves are used in traditional Mediterranean cuisine, having an aroma of pine which complements many cooked foods. Herbal tea can be made from the dried leaves.

Rosemary was considered sacred to ancient Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks. It was written about by Pliny the Elder (23–79 CE). Several Shakespeare plays refer to the use of rosemary in burial or memorial rites. In Hamlet, Ophelia says, "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember." It likewise appears in winter's Tale in Act 4 Scene 4, where Perdita talks about "Rosemary and Rue". In Act 4 Scene 5 of Romeo and Juliet, Friar Lawrence admonishes the Capulet household to "stick your rosemary on this fair corse, and as the custom is, and in her best array, bear her to church." It is also said that "In the language of flowers it means 'fidelity in love'.''

LoveSpell: Against Endings 

All the endings in my life  rise up against me  like that sea of troubles  Shakespeare mixed  with metaphors;  like Vikings in their boats  singing Wagner,  like witches  burning at  the stake--  I submit  to my fate.    I know beginnings,  their sweetnesses,  and endings,  their bitternesses--  but I do not know  continuance--  I do not know  the sweet demi-boredom  of life as it lingers,  of man and wife  regarding each other  across a table of shared witnesses,  of the hand-in-hand dreams  of those who have slept  a half-century together  in a bed so used and familiar  it is rutted  with love.    I would know that  before this life closes,  a soulmate to share my roses--  I would make a spell  with long grey beard hairs  and powdered rosemary and rue,  with the jacket of a tux  for a tall man  with broad shoulders,  who loves to dance;  with one blue contact lens  for his bluest eyes;  with honey in a jar  for his love of me;  with salt in a dish  for his love of sex and skin;  with crushed rose petals  for our bed;  with tubes of cerulean blue  and vermilion and rose madder  for his artist's eye;  with a dented Land-Rover fender  for his love of travel;  with a poem by Blake  for his love of innocence  revealed by experience;  with soft rain  and a bare head;  with hand-in-hand dreams on Mondays  and the land of fuck  on Sundays;  with mangoes, papayas  and limes,  and a house towering  above the sea.    Muse, I surrender  to thee.  Thy will be done,  not mine.    If this love spell  pleases you,  send me this lover,  this husband,  this dancing partner  for my empty bed  and let him fill me  from now  until I die.  I offer my bones,  my poems,  my luck with roses,  and the secret garden  I have found  walled in my center,  and the sunflower  who raises her head  despite her heavy seeds.    I am ready now, Muse,  to serve you faithfully  even with  a graceful dancing partner--  for I have learned  to stand alone.    Give me your blessing.  Let the next  epithalamion* I write  be my own.  And let it last  more than the years  of my life--  and without the least  strain--  two lovers bareheaded  in a summer rain.

Erica Jong

*'epithalamion' -  a song celebrating a marriage

Don's Blog Christmas Collage I 12-8-25

It is the time of year to show the iconic Christmas Collages of the artist Jan Sessions. There are six and they were all produced in an amazing spurt of creative intensity some years ago. I cannot add anything so please enjoy them in their amazing three dimensional splendor and in the peace, joy  and wonder of the season.