Beach Haven

This past Saturday I decided to take advantage of nice weather and a little time on my crowded schedule to go for a trail run. I went to Crow’s Nest Natural Area Preserve near our home. I have run all the trails in this place a number of times over the years. This particular run was along the Crow’s Nest Point Trail. 

A few hundred yards from the far end of the trail, near the point, there sits a monument containing a set of tableau erected on behalf of the Daniel family. They were early owners of the property that encompasses what is now Crow’s Nest. I sometimes hike the paths with a camera and shoot pictures. Sooner or later I'd like to get a stabilizing mechanism for my SLR and shoot a set of videos showing each of the paths. In either case, I thought I’d document for this blog the words on the memorial at the end of the trail. The far right tableau speaks to the family graveyard. I have not walked around to see if other headstones exist, but on initial look there are no more than what you see there. There are three flag stones on the ground in front of the memorial, but they contain no text. They may correspond to the three tableau above them, but it is not clear.
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Tableau 1 Text
A testimonial of love and veneration for one who merited and possessed the veneration and love of all by whom he was known one faithful and exemplary in every domestic and social relation in every duty of a Christian: TRAVERS DANIEL, Senr. Born May 26, 1741 – Died June 18, 1824
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Tableau 2 Text
This marble is erected in affectionate remembrance of the devoted wife, the tender mother, the humble and pious Christian: FRANCES DANIEL, (illegible) Travers Daniel, Senr. (birth and death dates illegible)
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Top Center Grave Stone Text
Here lies the body of ELIZA TRAVERS DANIEL daughter of Travers and Mildred Daniel who departed this life in her 21 year Oct 29th, 1823 In the hour of death so strong was her faith in the savior of the world that her fondest friends in meditating on what they witnessed forbore to weep at what they lost: they communed with their own hearts and were still.

Bottom Center Grave Stone Text
E.T.D. (for Eliza Travers Daniel)
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Tableau 3 Text
To the memory of Mrs. MILDRED DANIEL who was born in Charles County, Maryland Feby. 27th 1772 and died in the County of Stafford Virginia, October 17th 1837. She was the widow of TRAVERS DANIEL & daughter of Thomas Stone of Maryland, a signer of the declaration of Independence. Mrs. DANIEL lived and died an exemplary Christian. “Precious in the sight of the Lord in the death of his Saints.”  I. Psa. 116:15
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Tableau 4 Text
DANIEL FAMILY GRAVEYARD
“Crow’s Nest”, 3500 acres, was granted to Raleigh Travers in 1665. He married Hannah Ball. Their daughter Sara, aunt of George Washington and great aunt of James Madison, married Peter Daniel, Justice of Stafford County. He was the son of James Daniel and Grandson of Capt. William Daniel, who settled in Middlesex County in 1669. Their son, Travers Daniel, 1741-1824, married Francis Moncure and had eleven children. Among them were:

Raleigh Travers Daniel, 1763-1824, married Mildred Stone, daughter of the signer of the Declaration of Independence. He was twice Attorney General of Virginia and Lt. Governor.

Peter Vivian Daniel, 1784-1813, first married Maria Niven in Scotland, where he had studied medicine. Second, Margaret Stone, sister of his brother’s wife. Their grandson, John Moncure Daniel III was minister to Italy and editor of the Richmond Examiner.

Dr. J.M. Daniel’s third marriage was to Maria Vowles in 1810. Their son, Dr. John Henry Moncure Daniel, 1813-1891, graduated from the University of Pennsylvania and married Fenton Mercer Brooke, 1828-1875. Their three sons, John Moncure, Selden Brooke, and Thomas Cushing were born at Crow’s Nest before the home was destroyed during the northern invasion.
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Erected by their descendants 2002

For Christmas we visited family in Utah. Our daughter Kyra and her family weren’t able to be there so we took the time at Thanksgiving to visit them.

The weather in Georgia was much nicer than here in Virginia, a good ten degrees warmer. We did all the normal holiday things. We all ate too much. The grandchildren played in the fallen leaves. Friday night we put up a tent, sat around the large fire pit and camped out for the night. I brought along some fireworks like I sometimes do. The kids always like the racket that makes. There were some minor home repairs to take care of. It’s an old house so there is always something to do to it. Watching the Macy’s parade was fun too. It was apparently windy in New York City so they were not sure if the big character balloons would fly. In the end they just held the balloons closer to the ground to better keep them under control.

On Sunday we were able to attend church in our old ward, the Stockbridge Ward. It was fun to see some of our friends who we’ve known for years. We lived in Georgia for eight years. We’ve now been in Virginia for five and a half years. Every time we visit we get the question about when we are moving back to Georgia. I suppose they ask because we still own our home there. That will only be true for another three years or so. Our plan is to retire when I turn 60, then go serve a church mission as a couple. We’ll see how that all works out. For us to do that we will need to sell our Georgia home.

Earlier in November I had an unusual church assignment. I was the High Council speaker at the Stafford Branch. What is unusual about it is that it is an all-Spanish unit. I was able to meet with branch leaders before church, then speak and attend meetings using my Spanish. I hope the members were able to understand my message, and more importantly, feel the Spirit.

The theme, of course, was about being thankful. One of the references was a talk by President Monson in the October 2010 conference, The Devine Gift of Gratitude. The other reference was Luke 17 and the story of the ten lepers. I thought about what to say all week. The main ideas finally came on Saturday, while I was jogging on the treadmill in our basement. The word “distance” was front and center.

You may remember the story. There were ten lepers who approached Jesus and from a distance they cried to him asking to be healed. Keeping distance was the traditional requirement for lepers in that part of the world at that time, a reasonable approach to allay fear and spreading disease. They were healed. He told them to go to the priests to follow the Law of Moses and be “cleansed”. There was one, however who approached him giving thanks, even falling at his feet.

Here are the two thoughts. The nine were about doing their traditional life, their routine. Seeking help, they left their tradition in part and approached Jesus in part. Once they received their help they followed his council and returned to their tradition, their routine. The one who gave thanks did not just immediately slip back into a routine, but cried and gave thanks.

How often do we tend to approach God when we need help, but upon finding relief from whatever pains us, fall back into our normal life, even our normal church life? He who returned and gave thanks was told to go his way, “Thy faith hath made thee whole.” He did not just blindly follow tradition by keeping distance and seeking ritual cleansing.

The other idea, the distance idea also felt important to me. All ten drew somewhat nearer to Jesus while asking for help. The one got even closer when praising and giving thanks. I would submit that seeking guidance or help from God will bring us to a point close to him. However, thanking God for what he has already given will bring us closer still. As we recognize his hand we are acknowledging what he has already done. When we seek a blessing we are asking for something yet to be done. Both require faith, yet recognizing builds a stronger recognition. I hope that I am able to show more gratitude for things both asked for, and not asked for, but yet are expressions of his love for me.

I hope you had a great Christmas season, wherever you are. Like many, I have been away from family over the holidays in past years as a missionary, in the military, and because of work. I encourage each of us to consider what he has done perhaps you will miss your loved ones a little less, and in the years to come, when we are with them, will be that much sweeter.

Over the week of July 4th last year Michelle and I visited our son Matthew in Italy. One of the cities we visited was Trieste. It is very close to Croatia. The area around Trieste is very beautiful. The water in the Adriatic Sea is crystal clear and a deep azure in color. 

This week I was thinking of our trip with Matthew. Each day we would venture out to visit a different city. A few days we hit more than one. We were on the go constantly with the help of our local tour guide, our son. It was lots of fun. We saw all sorts of castles, cathedrals, museums, cobble stone streets, and ocean views. That part of the trip was memorable, and we have the pictures, and the sore feet to remember it by. We did have three specific experiences that I think were the best. They involved getting to visit with some locals.

While in Padua, one of Matt’s friends who lives there joined us for a nice evening meal and stroll. Her name is Eleonora Russo, and she is working on a degree in education in Padua. It was refreshing to hang out with two young people and take in their enthusiasm for Italy and life.

Later in the week we had dinner in the home of another of Matt’s friends and her parents. Her name is Valentina Mazzoni, and she just completed a degree in education. I’m trying to remember the names of her parents. I think it was Eduardo and Anna. You can see how old I’m getting, in particular when it comes to remembering names. The dinner they treated us to in their home was terrific! When we got there it was raining like crazy. By the time we left the rain had passed and the evening was cool.

The other main interaction we had with locals was Sunday morning. Matt was nice enough to take us to the little branch of our church that was closest to his home. It is in the city of Treviso. He had planned on us touring the city anyway with its old walls and interesting streets. The town itself has multiple streams running through it that are channeled through some of the most picturesque scenes. In some places we saw actively used water wheels.

On the Sunday we visited there were about a dozen people in Sacrament. Three of the dozen were us. It was fast and testimony Sunday. I remember how those go in a small branch. After most had shared a few thoughts it looked like the Branch President would conclude the meeting early. So I brought Matthew to the front with me. The sister missionaries offered to translate, but I asked Matt to.

What I shared with them, and what I want to share with you, was my experience in small branches. My first church experience was in a small branch in Sunbury, PA. It was about a 45 minute drive from where we lived in Berwick, PA. Not long after we joined the church a new branch was formed in Berwick. We were about four families and a few single adults. I also attended several small branches as I served my mission in Spain. For example in Algeciras we met in a three bedroom apartment rented by the church. Our children also remember the seven years we lived in Leadville, CO where at times our family made up about 1/3 of the active branch members. Our youngest, Jacob and Emily, were born there.

Today we attend a ward of about 150 to 200 active members. What each of these congregations has in common, as I mentioned that day in Treviso, are humble people, doing their best to serve God and their neighbors. I could feel the same Spirit in that little branch in Italy as I have felt in the larger metropolitan wards we have attended in Salt Lake City, UT, San Diego, CA, Lincoln, NE, Atlanta, GA, and now near Washington DC. The number of members in a unit does not change the amount of the blessings that come from the presence of the Holy Ghost.

One note, I learned later that one of the sisters (not a missionary sister) was from Spain. I wish I’d have known that before we left so I could have chatted with her. One of the sister missionaries serving there came from Australia and the other from Virginia. She lives near Lynchburg, and was close to finishing her mission. I'm sure she has finished by now. Whether one serves in a large or small ward, or a tiny branch of the church, we are about the Lord’s errand. 
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This post was originally published in February of 2016 on another platform:

Recently I had half a day in Burlington, Vermont to do some turns. Looking for something close to the city, and limited to sites that were actually open, I chose Bolton Valley. This was my first venture into east-coast skiing. Until now my experience has been confined to Utah and Colorado.
 
Vermont in February was much like the end of the season in the Rockies. The snow was icy and groomed. There really was no going off the groomed areas. Even if I had tried it the slope conditions in the open were bare of snow, under the snow making machines, or solid ice. Slipping into the trees offered a few short, well-packed trails or heavy mashed potatoes. All but two of the black diamond runs were closed. The open ones I would have rated more like a steep blue run.
 
The weather was very cold, single digit temps with a mix of overcast and sunny sky. The bottom half of the mountain was windy so all the trees had their snow blown off. The top half of the mountain was very calm so the trees were covered in frost. The site of the frozen trees at the top was beautiful.
 
There were really no lift lines, not surprising for a Thursday in the off-season. Since I had to catch a plane that afternoon I was not able to check out their night skiing.
 
The Wilderness Peak lift section was completely closed. Timberline Peak was open, but only offered two green runs and one blue. The rest was closed. I took one jaunt over to Timberline just to check it out.
 
I spent most of my time on the Vista Peak section of the mountain. The longest runs were there. The only black diamond section open in that part of the mountain was Hard Luck. It was fun but not challenging, even to an old-guy mediocre skier like me. The most fun I had was hitting a series of bumps along the side of Sherman's Pass and lower down on Deer Run. They came about every 50 feet just at the edge of the trees. I could just keep moving from one jump to the next. I wasn't getting huge air or traveling all that fast, but for an old man, six or seven foot jumps are enough fun.

I took the pic below from the lift.