The Grapes of Wrath

On this warm and rain threatening we're copying Ken Burns' Civil War. to DVD. Seemed appropriate.

My neighbors are mowing up a storm. I'm debating the effectiveness of grilling out today and working through what needs to be discussed at tomorrow's committee meeting.

McClellan has raised the Army of the Potomac, but now sits in Washington DC, unable to commit to the battlefield. The first all iron ship, the Monitor, set sail. Lincoln sits in Washington consoling his wife over the death of their son. Sherman wallows at home contemplating suicide. Grant has been reassigned to desk duty. The "90 days war" has dragged on for almost a year. The South remains defiant and strong, unknowable in force. Bedford Forest ranges across the west. A dark wind blows across the mountains of Virginia, and Kentucky.

But on this Memorial Day, it's another war which calls us to remember, and a Canadian that brings us to memory.

In Flanders Fields
By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae
Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.