I think my truckbuddies might enjoy this color film produced in 1960, in the last year of Eisenhower's presidency, that nicely summarizes the history of the "People's House" up to that time -- without, however, mentioning the complete reconstruction of the place in President Truman's time.
In this similar black-and-white film produced a year or so later, you can see a few extraordinary pictures of the hollowed-out White House interior during Truman's reconstruction, starting about the 40:45 mark:
Bonus: Lady Bird Johnson dedicates the new Jacqueline Kennedy Garden in 1965. This was on the eastern side of the rear of the residence, while the Rose Garden was on the western end, extending to just outside the Oval Office in the West Wing. Mrs. Johnson is beautfully well-spoken, the epitome of a cultured, gracious Southern lady.
Those Georgia boys are at it again, adding yet more flowers and trees to their mountain garden, and water features too! They sure have lots of energy. As we used to, once upon a time . . .
After a long season of winter inactivity, M.P. in the last couple of weeks has gotten back into yardwork and gardening with vigor. The bright spring sunshine has helped his mood quite a bit. He says, "I feel happier now - but I hurt all over!" That's retirement life.
Special Report: Just how do those crazy, wild-eyed, radical homosexuals go about destroying the American family, bringing down the wrath of God, and ruining everything for everybody? See the facts for yourself in this Blue Truck report . . .
In spring, teh gayz get all misty-eyed at the thought of a rainbow of blooming flowers in the yard. So these boys went a-huntin' for plants and bulbs this past weekend, and added some new ones to their cabin garden, up in the scenic North Georgia mountains. They also did a bit of renovation work in the upstairs bathroom. A sweet couple - I admire their manual skills and home-loving hard work.
M.P. and I used to go plant shopping in the spring, but we're older and tireder now, and once we get down on the ground, we can't get back up again! We really need to find a studly sturdy young man to help with the lawn and garden this year - can't pay much, but we'd feed him well.
After the death of the Queen last September, British TV network ITV presented this documentary about King Charles III, written and presented by distinguished newsman Jonathan Dimbleby.
Your Head Trucker remembers watching the live TV coverage of Charles's investiture as Prince of Wales in 1969, and has admired the development of his mind and character ever since. Highly intelligent, deeply spiritual, compassionate, and confident about human progress, he is a very fine man who, as it seems to your Head Trucker, has been unmercifully crucified by the hysterical, hypocritical press all his adult life.
How he is able to rise above it and remain cheerful and steadfast in his duty to the nation is more than I can understand. He has prepared all his life for this day and will, I have no doubt, make a fine king, with much to offer the world. I pray God bless, protect, and sustain him with long life and the love of his people.
Bonus: In this 2011 BBC film, British gardener and broadcaster Alan Titchmarsh is given a tour of Highgrove House gardens by the then-Prince of Wales, who was mocked unmercifully in the press for being an environmentalist long before it was cool.
Which only goes to show how wrong, dead wrong, popular opinion can be - and frequently has been, about many things.
For the first time this year, it's 80 degrees outside as I write, hooray! Therefore, your Head Trucker is happy to report that winter is over and spring has sprung, and isn't that wonderful news? As it always is, year after year--the birds and the bees, the flowers and the trees turn our minds from the sordid and vulgar to the lambent and sublime. As Emily Dickinson wrote:
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,—
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.
And this:
A little madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown,
Who ponders this tremendous scene—
This whole experiment of green,
As if it were his own!
And finally, this:
Spring is the Period
Express from God.
Among the other seasons
Himself abide,
But during March and April
None stir abroad
Without a cordial interview
With God.
And so, let us tend our gardens and take delight in the perpetual miracle of renewal and grace that is the divine gift of this glorious season. Rejoice--lift up your hearts--drink deep of inward refreshment while you may--and dance with the bees who toil so happily upon the pretty flowers, though they last but a day.
For as someone else has said, There are just so many summers, babe, and just so many springs.
To put you in a terpsichorean mood, here is Juan Carlos Quintero with "El Baile"--The Dance:
Some photos of our Easter feast, along with scenes from M. P.'s garden - click photos to enlarge:
A simple white table with flowers and Easter eggs
Easter egg tree
Electric fireplace decorated with paper flowers
Appetizer: colored deviled eggs
Soup: chicken and potato
Entree no. 1: boneless chicken thighs stuffed with dressing, in a cream sauce
Entree no. 2: Baked ham with orange sauce
Pineapple casserole (left) and creamed corn; not pictured is a pot of boiled kale
Potato salad with radish roses
A full plate with a "bunny roll" at right
M. P. made a garden this year, the first in a long while. Here is how it looked on the first of April, just before a heavy rain that night:
Front view: It took M.P. several weekends to get all this dug up, composted, enclosed, and planted with 20 or so varieties of vegetables. At the rear, the new compost enclosure he built.
New stepping stones, using found tiles
Closeup of two varieties of tomato plants, showing M.P.'s markers made out of wooden skewers and cut-outs from a milk jug. At right his ingenious first example of a plant protector made from a clear soda bottle.
Rear view, where squash and cucucumbers are still hiding below ground
And here is the view on Easter Sunday, showing marked progress:
Front view showing more plant protectors around the tomato plants
Rear view with a lively growth of squash and other things
M.P. also planted several varieties of rosebushes; here are the first two blooming now:
Green Ice miniature roses; as you can see at the top of the bush, they are a pale green when they first blossom.
Sunset rose: a delicate shade of orange, with a lovely scent.
The final episode of three by British gardener Monty Don. Description:
Monty travels to some of the most celebrated artists' gardens, including the one created by the impressionist Claude Monet, who planted and painted his garden for half his life. Monty also matches the paintings to the garden of Paul Cezanne, as well as visiting several contemporary artistic gardens to see how the use of plants and trees has evolved into new and varied styles.
I never heard of this Monty Don fellow before, but I like his friendly, insightful explorations of the gardens of France, great and small; this is part one of three, and I'll post the others here in due course.
Is Saturday still cartoon day for kids? Or has the Internet replaced that too? Come to think of it, do they even watch cartoons or make cartoons anymore?
The news these days is just too sad and too bad to dwell on. Instead, perhaps you will find some refreshment in contemplating the beauty of Stourhead, one of England's loveliest old stately homes, and its exquisite gardens. Just put all your worries and troubles on pause, and savor the peaceful harmony of the place:
Or if you need a chuckle, perhaps you will find one in this short clip of a daft old gardener playing tour guide:
I wonder if my truckbuddy Tim can tell us what sort of accent the old man has? Seems rather West Country to me with all those pirate noises, but I'm no expert.
My mother used to have a painted iron trivet which read:
One is nearer God's heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth.
Your Head Trucker has no green thumb, unfortunately, but sometimes wishes he did. What better refuge is there from the strife and ugliness of the world than a lovely garden in full bloom? Here we can spend a few moments luxuriating in the painter's famous garden at Giverny - a little bit of heaven, it seems to me.
While padding about from here to there this morning on the 'net, I happened across this picture of the studly Edmond Rostand, fameux écrivain in the Belle Epoque of the play Cyrano de Bergerac and others. I also discovered these pics and clips of his lovely Villa Arnaga in the Basque country of southwestern France, which is not my style - I suppose it falls somewhere along the scale from Art Nouveau to Arts and Crafts, don't you? - but with its formal French and informal English gardens is nevertheless a joy to the eyes and a rest for the soul. So I thought I'd share this work of art and nature with my truckbuddies this morning - enjoy.
I wonder if any of my truckbuddies remember the tune of the same title: it was a well-known piece that I learned to play as a kid while taking piano lessons (which, alas, I didn't continue very long).
I was reminded of both tune and title by the serendipitous discovery on YouTube of some BBC programs done in the late 1980's which are really delightful. I don't think they were ever shown over here, but if you like to cook and garden, check these out, I think you'll enjoy them.
A pause that refreshes the soul: the lovely gardens and lake at the Stourhead estate in the county of Wiltshire, England. View it in full screen for the best effect.
What's left of the vegetable garden that the ex-roommate and I planted last year. Tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, bell peppers, squash, and okra, a bedroom-size plot and a white picket fence - it was a lovely hope. But all it ever produced was a single handful of stunted tomatoes, not enough to feed two people.
Sometimes despite all your tender care, and plenty of sun and water and good soil - things just won't grow, or they wither on the vine. No good reason - they just do. So you let it all go back to grass, and move on.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, harmony; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
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We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.
and welcome to the Blue Truck, a blog for mature gay men with news and views on gay rights, history, art, humor, and whatever comes to mind. Plus a few hot men. The truck's all washed and gassed up, so hop in buddy, let's go.
CAUTION: For mature gay men only beyond this point. Some posts and links may not be suitable for children or the unco guid. You have been warned.
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My Story
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Churches say that the expression of love in a heterosexual monogamous relationship includes the physical, the touching, embracing, kissing, the genital act - the totality of our love makes each of us grow to become increasingly godlike and compassionate. If this is so for the heterosexual, what earthly reason have we to say that it is not the case with the homosexual?
It is a perversion if you say to me that a person chooses to be homosexual. You must be crazy to choose a way of life that exposes you to a kind of hatred. It's like saying you choose to be black in a race-infected society.
If God, as they say, is homophobic, I wouldn't worship that God.
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