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A Castle
18 January 2018
Ah, the weight of the world. It's heavy. And when it rains, as it has done all day again, the world gets sodden. And heavier.
Such a burden.
Or so it felt all day as we struggled with some email issue not of our own making, spent an hour waiting on a customer service line and failed to get anything meaningful accomplished.
We've grown accustomed to accomplishing meaningful things every day around here.
Then, very late in the day (but not so late as this), we cobbled together a few things lying around and took a few shots for fun.
And this is what we came up with.
It's a trinket one of our brothers sent us when, after 28 years renting a flat, we finally bought a place to live. Three-and-a-half inches tall. Sparkly.
We won't say much about the capture because it involves a very unusual review unit we are still getting familiar with. So we won't spoil the fun.
But we can say something about the image.
"A man's home is his castle," the saying goes. In William Blackstone's Commentaries on the Laws of England, you'll find the ancient sentiment affirmed in the 18th century:
And the law of England has so particular and tender a regard to the immunity of a man's house, that it stiles it his castle, and will never suffer it to be violated with immunity: agreeing herein with the sentiments of ancient Rome, as expressed in the works of Tully; quid enim sanctius, quid omni religione munitius, quam domus unusquisque civium? [What more sacred, what more strongly guarded by every holy feeling, than a man's own home?]
In the darkness now, as rain falls, it is no small thing to be home. We know many tonight are not. And we are grateful we are.