These photographs from 2014 are not great, but reposting them to refresh a suggestion for an outing appropriate for these times – entertaining, outdoors and admission-free on a plaza large enough to allow ample room for spreading out.
The painterly projection of Xavier de Richemont‘s San Antonio Saga (click there for much better photographs) sweep masterfully across the façade of San Fernando Cathedral, founded by Canary Islanders in 1731. Accompanied by lively music, the massive kaleidoscopic collages mesmerize those on Main Plaza.
Continue reading “Spectacular illumination projects city’s colorful history on San Fernando Cathedral”
Begin with Chapter One ~ Go Back to Chapter Thirteen
Emma Bentzen Koehler, November 1911
“Why, Bettie, you must be exhausted.” Emma greets Bettie Stevens as she approaches their table in the ballroom of the St. Anthony Hotel. “Everyone in the city was wearing little white tags. And not a day passes without your name in Mattie Walthall’s column. You flit from hosting a breakfast on the Medina River to an elegant reception for Missus French. You attend a Library Board meeting, deliver a paper on the Cavaliers for the Daughters of the American Revolution and then chaperone the girls at the Thanksgiving game and ball in Austin.”
Sophie Wahrmund stands and welcomes Bettie with a hug. “And all in the midst of debutante season. Please sit down and join us. We banished Otto and Otto temporarily to the bar for their inappropriate remarks.”
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Fourteen”
Begin with Chapter One ~ Return to Chapter Twelve
Andrew Stevens, November 1911
“Honey from Solms Apiary. The finest in the country, Andy. This nectar comes not from some common native American bee.”
The Colonel has been waxing eloquent over a jar of honey for the past five minutes. Andy knits his eyebrows together and keeps his lips sealed tightly. Struggling, mightily struggling, to stifle the yawn rising from deep in his throat.
“The Carnacian bees that made this honey were imported to New Braunfels from high in the Alps. The Solms Apiary has sixty-two colonies of these bees, and the queens are prolific layers.”
Running later than normal, Mr. K steps briskly into his office. “Queens? Queen Emma held me prisoner in the kitchen this morning. Blocked my escape route with her chair and locked the wheels until she had no more words to unleash on me. I knew it was risky taking her to the Busches’ gilded celebration. Seems I neglected to mark our recent anniversary with tributes befitting royalty, and she wants to ensure I never make such a blunder again. How the Sultan can bear a whole harem of wives is beyond me.
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Thirteen”