Dream Word – HAPPY
Ephesians 5:19 …..speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord….NKJV
Many evenings, my wife and I take an hour’s walk together. It is always good to walk in the Kentucky countryside, past all the entrances to the 'hollers' where the blacktop ends, and up amongst the brush and on the green hillsides, which are sometimes speckled with light blue cornflowers, or sometimes freckled with the rich, red leaves of disrobing hardwood trees getting ready to go to sleep for winter in the pumpkin orange of the that Kentucky earth’s, chubby, child-like cheeks, all full of falls-fatness at winter's beckoning bedtime. Here, you can see the cold, angle-ironed markers, still stuck upright in the 'dark and bloody ground.' These property markers might be in the right legal place, but they are completely out of place amongst this singing beauty, standing rusty and uncamouflaged amongst the fantastic foliage, sometimes flagged with pink fluorescent plastic ribbons, but all shouting out the various property lines of a people proud to own a piece of American pie. Yup, personal real estate is especially important in Kentucky. The rusted poles of old angle-iron might be more permanent than the old wooden staves previously used in history to mark out land, but still, they are rather unsightly.
My hometown, over a thousand years ago, was once an Anglo-Saxon settlement in the center of a meadow which they called a ‘Lea.’ Records show that some sixty acres of this ‘Lea’-land' had already been marked off by wooden staves and designated for a new town area. After the battle of Hastings in 1066, William the Conqueror gave this same area of 'Stave-Lea,' (Staveley as it is now known) as a victory present to one his warriors. The Normans had finally arrived in my hometown.
The family of that warrior, ‘Ascuit Musard,’ held Staveley for generations until the death of Nicholas Musard, a Roman Catholic priest, who, because he could not legally leave his land to his bastard children, (no change there then in a thousand years,) had his property dispersed among his sisters, one of whom married ‘Anker De Frechville, Baron of Crich.’ Now, the Frechville’s really left their mark on Staveley in the form of the old and well haunted Hagge farm, The Manor house, The Rectory and of course, a Chantry, some parts of which date back to the thirteenth century, well before the ownership and sponsorship of the Frechville family.
A Chantry is a private chapel, where a priest sang or c
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