Spent the day with George Rogers Clark in Louisville. The 1790 home where he spent his last years is near the banks of the Ohio River and if any old house should be haunted, Locust Grove is it. He was a remarkable man with a tragic ending. If you need to satisfy any curiosity on that score, read James Thom's Long Knife.
I finally got to Locust Grove today about noon via Indiana (I got lost) and then ended up at the very gates of the very busy Kentucky State Fair which just opened. But finally I found my way to George. Locust Grove is right out of Eden, truly. I tried to imagine the old estate as it would have been at the end of the 18th-century before all the concrete and cars, etc. I walked around the grounds but didn't hear one dove. The old brick house has a huge porch and is surrounded by rolling green hills and huge trees. I am too tired to entrance you with great adjectives tonight - so all you get is green hills and huge trees.
Then I backtracked to Frankfort, Kentucky's small capital, and went to the wonderful Museum of Kentucky History. I learned some really neat things! For instance:
For those of you with snakebite, beat some black ash leaves and bind to your wound, then make a tea of the bark.
A bushel of salt cost 20 schillings, a mare 7 pounds, a quart of whiskey 1 pound six pence.
I found some more great research books and joined the Kentucky Historical Society. Also bought a quill pen to go with my great-granny's ink well.
As I drove all over the southern sphere in complete comfort in my air-conditioned car, eating breakfast at McDonald's and lunch at Wendy's and getting an iced coffee at day's end, I wondered what Daniel Boone would have to say about my getting lost and eating fast food all day. It would have taken him several days travel to go to Louisville and he might have had some jerky and cornmeal in his saddlebags. And he would have been HOT atop his horse as it was a sultry 87 degrees today.
Now back home to pack. I always hate that part.