Mount Dora 2011
I am finally getting around to posting these pictures and notes from the reenactment event my family attended early in February. The B family joined our company a second time. There was another family with plans to come, but they couldn’t make it. Perhaps it was just as well. “It always rains at Mount Dora,” everyone told us—after we arrived. A cold and drizzly weekend may not have been a favorable introduction to the reenactment experience.
Above, left to right: Mr. B., Papa, and Biggest Brother.
We parked the Pickle a comfortable distance from what was described as “a picture-perfect beehive.” There were plenty of jokes about Winnie-the-Pooh, smoking out bees with the camper exhaust, and hazing new recruits. We were glad, though, that there were no problems.
The next morning, Saturday, children poured out of tents and campers, decked in historic attire and eager to begin the running, shouting, and shooting that would mark the weekend. Here the three eldest B children pose with a silly friend.
The lecture at the ladies’ tea was a fascinating account of the discovery and excavation of the steamboat Arabia, wrecked and lost in the Missouri River in 1856. It was discovered more than a hundred years later beneath a corn field half a mile from the river’s modern course. Thousands of artifacts were beautifully preserved and are now collected at the Steamboat Arabia Museum. You can view the museum’s beautiful and interactive site HERE.
The Union marching band played lively tunes in the sutler area. It was difficult not to measure our pace to the beat.
We returned to the camper to find Papa and Mr. W tuning the mandolin Mr. W was lending to Papa. It’s been a dream come true for Papa to finally begin learning an instrument; he loves the sound of the mandolin.
It drizzled persistently throughout the Saturday battle. Second Brother sheltered himself from the rain with a flannel blanket. The rest of us huddled under hoods, hats, and umbrellas.
Until he died, Papa’s top hat and green shirt made it easy to spot our company anywhere within seeing distance. Here the company appears to be racing (in an orderly fashion, of course) for the cover of those trees.
The cease-fire was called. One wounded soldier limped across the field to the shelter of a moss-shrouded oak. Isn’t that a beautiful specimen of tree?
“There he is! Don’t you see the top hat?”
After the battle, I trudged to camp, thoroughly wet and chilled. The umbrellas hadn’t quite covered me. To the left you can see me, dry but still very cold. My soaked costume hangs behind. Unfortunately, it didn’t dry before the next day, so I remained in “modern dress” for the remainder of the weekend.
Second Brother’s birthday was that day, and, after a potluck meal, the entire company celebrated with birthday cake and candles. The shy thing refused to look at the singers wishing him a “Happy Birthday.”
Littlest Sister didn’t want to make the same mistake we did last time and forget to take the camera to the Saturday night ball. She had a difficult time, though, getting the lens to focus on the whirl of the dance floor.
The young ones were impatient for the band to strike up the first dance, so they began their own improvisational dances. I’m not sure that they’re attempting a conga line.
Next Sister and Papa leisurely waltz at the right. Biggest Brother likes to keep things brisk, and forgets that I’m not so tall... We’re stretching in from the left.
After much persuasion, Littlest Sister accepts a waltz with her Papa.
The boys had had a difficult time that night with the cold and rain. The tents leaked a bit, and their bedding was damp.
The next morning, Sunday, we attended the church service held at the tent of Battleline Ministries. A small group of musicians and singers lead us in worshipful song.
Chaplain Roger (not Rogers) preached compellingly on the redemptive power of Christ on our past, present, and future. Seven individuals stepped forward to receive Christ as their Savior. The old has passed away, the new has come.
Spectators visited the telegraph office to learn about long-distance communication during the Civil War.
The reenactment took place at a flea market. The children had great fun turning this collection of old wooden tables into a battleship. “Ay, ay, Cap’n!”
For the Sunday afternoon battle, our company “galvanized”; that is, they dressed and participated in the battle as members of the opposing army. In our case, that meant they dressed in blue. It was the first time Papa and Biggest Brother galvanized, and they joked about being unable to recognize each other. Biggest Brother poked Papa. “You look good in that color.” “Turncoats!” Next Sister sniffed.
We had trouble recognizing our company on the battlefield because of the change of uniform. Papa lamented over and over that we missed his exciting picket action. “But we didn’t recognize you without your top hat!” we protested.
This is the first time Papa died. He sneaks a drink of water, and we get a glimpse of that distinctive green shirt. The gun-smoke was really clinging to the fields that afternoon.
This exciting action shot is our favorite of the weekend. The company wheels around, double quick, to confront the enemy. The intensity of their faces at once inspires and amuses.
Now Biggest Brother died. This was a very uncomfortable moment for him, because his canteen uncorked and sloshed him generously.
Although we usually stay Sunday nights, the boys did not relish the prospect of another wet night—or packing in the pouring thunderstorm forecast for Monday morning. While the weather stayed moderately dry, they packed up the tents and things; and after protracted farewells (and last-minute adjustments to the motor), we headed for home Sunday afternoon.
The next day, the work of unpacking and cleaning began. The morning was cheered by this discovery in the garden. The heirloom morning glories had bloomed; this photograph hardly does justice to the vibrant color.
Friday, April 22, 2011