For those who follow the new calendar, I would like to wish you a pleasant Midsummer’s Eve and a lovely feast of Saint John tomorrow. Of course, you’ll celebrate the saint on the wrong day, but at least your heart is in the right place.
As I was working in the garden this morning, I noticed my first Saint John’s Wort in bloom this year (on the frondosum). I have four species of Hypericum in my yard—frondosum, prolificum, punctatum, and pyramidatum. These plants without fail bloom around Western Saint John’s Day. I laughed to myself as I thought of an ecclesial council’s anathematizing the offending species for adhering to the schismatics’ calendar (which happens to agree with the seasons). Horticultural heresy!
I read Bruce Charlton’s site today (as I often do), and followed a link in a comment to his post, “If a leader emerged who might be a saviour of the West - what kind of person might he be?” (worthwhile to read, as are most of Charlton’s offerings). The linked article concerned the birth of twin sons to the légitimiste claimant of the French throne, Louis Alphonse of Bourbon, Duke of Anjou (Louis XX), but the story is not news—the births occurred in A.D. 2010. Still, it is a good sign. By the way, Wikipedia notes that Louis Alphonse of Bourbon is also Franco’s great-grandson through his mother—promising genes there. France and Spain may yet contribute to the salvation of the West . . . it is quite unlikely that anything good will emerge from the Anglosphere.
How do I get to pigeonniers—you may reasonably ask. When I sought information on the French pretender, I found Messynessy Chic’s “Meet the Would-be King of France (he’s Kind of a Babe).” Indeed, he is, which is what a people should want for their ideal sovereign—which reminds me of poor Grand Duke George Mikhailovich, in line as claimant to the Russian imperial throne. He looks like a mafioso’s son who eats too much pizza on Jersey boardwalks—which is quite a decline from the last reigning imperial Russian family. Those wicked Bolsheviks—their misdeeds are ever with us—may they burn, burn, burn!
Anyway, I looked around on Messynessy Chic and found several blithe blogposts, including (and especially) “The French Castles fit for a Pigeon (Literally).” “MessyNessy” writes about the stately pigeon coops found around the French countryside. They are merveilleux—and for pigeons! I always used to say that I would have handsome honeybee hives and charming chicken coops were I to come into great wealth, but now I must add another manorial luxury—a palatial pigeonnier.
Finally, as a lifelong amateur vexillologist—and because I am a contrarian who despises unprincipled opportunists, busybodying schoolmarms, mindless sheeple, and, above all, the vermicular Left, I offer a brief memorial to one of the finest Americans in history:
For those who do not know, the “Battle Flag” was originally Robert E. Lee’s battle flag for the Army of Northern Virginia (courtesy of his predecessor, P. G. T. Beauregard). I did know until today that Lee had another banner for his headquarters flag. Robert E. Lee, may his memory be eternal!