welcome back, everyone! to those of you who haven’t checked in on us for a while, i’m afraid little has changed on this page during the last month, although that same month for us has been infused with more change than a modern presidential campaign. after trimming our first christmas tree, meeting a new nephew and a new niece, traveling to virginia and to south carolina on business, and celebrating our first anniversary, we couldn’t be more happily exhausted. to those of you who have checked back here repeatedly (and who have reminded me repeatedly about those visits), I both applaud your persistence and offer my humblest apologies.

as you all know by now, our poor blog has been, errr, hibernating this winter. in addition to the above events, eileen and i have been tramping all across europe and becoming familiar with leg muscles we forgot we had. (did those “brilliant” architects really not think they might someday wish they left room for cars to access all those historic monuments they left behind!? i mean, really!?) meanwhile, our fingers atrophied for want of a keyboard. i know i should be grateful for the exercise, but hey — rock-hard, sexy legs can’t type 73 words per minute.

on that note, i should really get right to it (the update, not typing with my legs). i have more to say about oxford than i can do in a single update; so, please, stop me next time we pass, and i’ll chat you up with the rest. for now, i’ll start with…

…that beautifully named building above: “the radcliffe camera”! (it would have to be a very special building indeed to be named after such a wondrous item. but, i digress.) actually, i learned “camera” comes from the latin for “room.” unfortunately, the rooms inside this iconic oxford university library have never been viewed through a camera. photography is strictly forbidden inside, and only students are allowed to enter at all (prompting me to wonder, do they all go naked in there?).

anyway, it made me terribly jealous that my sister mary elizabeth was allowed to go in. she’s the reason my parents and we went to oxford in the first place. not to stop her from breaking in to nudist libraries, but because she’s studying at oxford this year. she claims the interior of the “camera” is purely academic, but after attending one rather scandalous student pantomime (british for “almost moderately funny stage play”), i’m a little skeptical about how some of those brainiac kids put their minds to use.

but, in all seriousness, oxford is one of the most inspiring and illuminating places i’ve ever had the privilege of being enchanted by. to get lost in its hidden gardens, to find warmth in its softly glowing pubs was, for me, to float through a terrific dream. to solidly stride down the same cobblestone streets c.s. lewis once pensively strolled, to ride on the same river waters that, as joseph conrad observed, nourished civilizations from pre-history and on through world conquests was to stand suddenly sure of the brevity of my moment on this earth.

the church history we learned in oxford was particularly humbling. although more frequently left empty now, each one of the many colleges comprising oxford university has its own church, each stunning in the excruciating detail with which it was built. above is one wall of the magdalen college’s church that we happened upon during a walking tour of the city. only right before we left did i notice the life-sized angels carved into the wood where each support beam joins the ceiling. Camouflaged and barely visible, yet created with such meticulous care.

to get a proper view of oxford, you have to get up high — in this case, atop the tower of st. mary’s cathedral. from there, i was impressed how tightly woven together the little stone city is. when walking on its streets, i felt the constant energy of countless passersby, endless study, and busy commerce. on the ground, oxford is a big city. in reality, all the world-altering events that take place here are squeezed in tight proximity to each other by medieval stone walls and surrounding countryside, green even in winter.

st. mary’s cathedral, actually a moderately sized church, is oxford university’s official sanctuary. i couldn’t take my eyes off the church’s weathered stone floor, where believers had been executed by the church during the reformation, ironically right at the altar dedicated to the God who died for them. now there are placards in honor of those killed. later john and charles wesley, founders of the methodist church, were ordained here.

after returning to oxford from their work in america, one of them made the mistake of making a speech against the increasingly godless attitude of oxford students and staff. he was asked not to return for any more such speaking engagements. later a school was dedicated to the wesleys. currently, the oxford elite seem politely to regard them and most other evangelicals, including many of the great minds that built the university into what it is, as just a little out of their minds. (does anyone see a pattern emerging here? a pendulum, i think.)

below, high street (british for “main street”) is a bustling shopping area with cramped bookshops that extend deep into the backs of long, narrow houses and cozy tea rooms where we had cream tea at least once a day. surprisingly, it isn’t the tea that is so creamy. it’s the clotted cream you spread an inch deep on your scones, mixed with delicious fresh jams.


and where does mary elizabeth, that pitiable girl forced to live in such a droll town, get to lay her head at night? of course — to make me even more envious — in a luxurious manor house with every modern convenience, including full-time gardeners! if that weren’t cool enough, you can see the chimney of j.r.r. tolkien’s house from my sister’s bedroom window. if he were alive, they would be neighbors!

affectionately known to its residence as “104,” the university of georgia owns this gorgeous lot on banbury road (pronounced “brand-berry,” or so my dad was convinced — to the great dismay of every well spoken brit he asked directions from). did you know uga — my alma mater — is the only university grandfathered in to such a partnership with oxford? if you’re a student… apply for this program!!!

and there she is, in her own backyard — my lovely sister.

hugh grant fans will be excited to learn that the actor with the shifty eyes graduated from the college below. new college, as it’s called, is the second oldest at oxford, founded during the 1300’s. the walls surrounding its gardens were the city’s walls in medieval times. we were the only ones enjoying the view though. i spied some students, inside, through one of those windows. they were playing “mario cart” on a wii.

mary elizabeth is a proud member of keble college — and of the school’s very athletic crew team, rowing being the most time-honored sport at oxford. with its impressive courtyard and longest dining hall at oxford, the college was scouted to be the primary shooting location for the “harry potter” films. but the school refused to alter certain details of its decor for the film crews, so christchurch college got the honor (and the resulting hoards of tourists).

inside keble’s chapel are brilliantly painted vignettes of numerous bible stories, all prophetically leading up to the coming of Christ.

for me, the most sacred experience at oxford was singing carols in a packed-out sheldonian theatre. beautifully preserved, the king would have once visited this theatre. now it’s open for reservation, in this case to the christian student union who organized an exceptional event. the visiting speaker talked about the Gospel with more simple clarity than i’ve ever heard. i find it hard to believe that anyone, hearing the practical application of the christian worldview that night, could have dismissed it as anything but exceptional.

often after such events, eileen and i would stroll through the winding streets, window gazing at all the unusual trinkets and curiosities. eventually, we would stop at a pub to warm up. my favorite was called “the eagle and child,” where we stood at the table that “the inklings,” c.s. lewis’ and j.r.r. tolkien’s literary group, used to meet to critique each other’s writings. it was hard to believe “the lord of the rings” and “the chronicles of narnia” could have taken shape on those tables of knotty wood shoved into tight corners.

this is the courtyard of christchurch college, where much of “harry potter” was filmed. directly behind the camera is the staircase the “first years” take to the dining hall to be sorted into their houses in “the sorcerer’s stone.”

i think i saw hagrid drag this christmas tree into the school.

and here we are, inside the actual dining hall of hogwartz… umm, i mean, christchurch.

and believe it or not, eileen and i really got to wear black robes to dinner with the oxford students. a long-standing tradition. and i thought j.k. rowling was so clever. she didn’t make any of this stuff up — it’s real!

(oh, a small correction: they aren’t black “robes”; they’re “gowns.” this is very important to the brits. it’s also important that, if referring to someone’s pants, you should call them “trousers.” apparently, innocently saying “hey, i really like your pants. can i borrow them?” is tantamount to asking someone to share his underwear with you. upon discovering this, there was no end to our snickering about americans who wear leather pants, suit pants, uniform pants. not to mention the sudden absurdity of the question, “who wears the pants in your marriage?”

walking away from christchurch college, mary elizabeth led us to another well known location out of british literature: the old sheep shop from “through the looking glass,” or — as we all know it — “alice in wonderland.”

the sheep who manages the store in lewis carroll’s novel (which, i found out, he wrote as an undergrad at oxford), was modeled after the old woman with a sheep-like voice who ran this store all those years ago.

(i love this shot of my family. it’s just a shame i couldn’t be in it with them. ah, the curse of the photographer! oh, well. they seem happy with the rabbit in my place.)

we also got to visit oxford’s museum of natural history. very small in scale compared to the expansive museums i’m accustomed to, it was nevertheless impressive in scope. here the famous debates between darwin’s defender thomas huxley and the son of william wilberforce, samuel, took place over the validity of evolutionary theory and its place in higher education. needless to say, it has found its place solidly entrenched there now.

(oh, and if you don’t know who william wilberforce is, you need to do some serious research right now. or at least go out and rent the movie “amazing grace.” an incredible man!)

apparently santa forgot to feed his reindeer this christmas.

yes, that is mistletoe. (this is why i love tradition!)

eileen shot this duck by the river isis. (that sounds horrible, doesn’t it?)

we also traveled just outside of oxford, into the string of quaint villages known as the cotswolds. perhaps the least quaint and most industrial of those villages was birmingham, where we attended the largest german christmas market (a european tradition during the holidays) outside of germany.

my clearest (and most bitter) memory of that market is the bag of soft, homemade doughnuts eileen and i bought. she held them while i went to take a quick photo. when i returned, my mom asked me if i wanted to get a chocolate crepe with them.

“no, thanks. my beautiful wife and i just bought some doughnuts to share,” i smiled. then i saw it. the empty, crumpled bag in her hand and the guilty, frosting-smudged look on her face.

bibury was our favorite of the cotswolds. there’s really nothing there but several clusters of ancient stone houses, friendly locals out for evening jaunts, two or three pubs, a church, and a manor house turned into a hotel.

one of bibury’s pubs was “the swan.” it was so cozy. i could live in that village! in fact, i think i will. (anyone wanting blume wedding photography can plan a destination ceremony at “the swan.” how does that sound?)

at stratford-upon-avon, we caught the sunset right after visiting the grave of william shakespeare. that’s right — we dist shoot, me thinks, in bill’s own backyard. very cool!

we ended our tour of the cotswolds with a visit to bath. named for its millennia-old tourist attraction (or is the bath named for the town? i’m not sure!?), bath is the site of naturally occurring hot springs that are solely responsible for making a frozen wasteland like the english isles look remotely inviting to romans from the mediterranean peninsula.

if you do rent the film “amazing grace,” as i strongly suggest you do, you’ll see this posh little hangout in the scene where friends try to jump-start wilberforce’s lacking love life.

…after all, what better to stir love in one’s heart than 10 thousand-year-old, lukewarm sulfur water. supposedly, bath’s pools are a fountain of youth. but it literally tastes like drinking “bath water.”

and we leave you with bibury…

(but remember — this is just the beginning. check back soon for our photos from france, too. i’ll have them up quickly this time. i promise!)