A deluge, a weddin', and Dan'l Boone, too

A couple of weeks ago, The Other Half and her traveling companion – that would be yours truly – journeyed to Paris for a very special occasion.

The special occasion: somebody we had known for a few years tied the knot. Got hitched. Up and married. We have known the groom for a while. The bride is a relatively new acquaintance, and, now she's family.

By the way, did I mention that we were talking about Paris, Kentucky? Paris, France, probably would have been a nice place for a wedding, too, but it's a little far to drive for a weekend.

Driving through all of that water in the Atlantic Ocean might be a bit of a challenge, too, but it probably wouldn't have been any wetter than part of our adventure turned out to be.

Our journey to Kaintuck began on the fourth Friday in June. In a word, the day, and the journey, were W-E-T. Rain was falling when we left God's Country, AKA home. Rain was falling an hour later. Rain was falling an hour after that. Rain fell for about six hours.

I'm not sure that I had ever motored through six solid hours of rain until that somewhat damp day a couple of weeks ago. I hope that your travels never, ever include that kind of an adventure.

Usually, when we travel, The Other Half reaches a point on the journey when she pretty much falls asleep, as in takes a nap. That pretty much leaves her traveling companion – again, that would be me – to his own devices. I often put the car on cruise control and take a nap myself.

Such was not the case as we motored south and east on the aforementioned Friday. The rain fell. And fell. And fell. The occasional downpour would be followed by torrents of water, and then we experienced the kind of rain which I'm pretty sure is mentioned in the Book of Revelation. The Four Seahorsemen of the Apocalypse would have been right at home.

Periodically, semi trucks would pass us, and pretty much swamp our vehicle, while at the same time reducing visibility to pretty much at the stage of water-induced blindness.

Fortunately, we made it safely to our destination in Kentucky, and then got to unload our car...in the rain.

After an exhausting six-hour trip that Noah would have recognized, our day concluded with the moving of some heavy furniture. At least the rain had stopped.

Our furniture moving adventure was done fairly late in the evening, as at night. The furniture was being hauled from the third floor of what we'll call an apartment complex.

At some point, somebody (in the apartment complex?) apparently took note of three potentially shady looking strangers hauling furniture out of the building. As good citizens, they took what probably seemed like appropriate action.

That would explain the opportunity we had to meet one of Lexington's finest late on a Friday night in June. He greeted us as we were hauling a large, very heavy piece of furniture out the back door of the apartment complex. Our fellowship proved to be congenial. We explained what we were doing, and why we were doing it. He seemed satisfied with the explanation, smiled, and went on his way.  

Saturday, the day of the weddin', was bright and sunny and just pretty nice for a summer day.

The wedding was at a house outside of Paris, Kentucky, in Bourbon County, about half an hour or so from Lexington. The journey to Paris took us through some wonderful horse country in the gently rolling hills of Bluegrass Country. It wasn't surprising when we got out of the car – and the first thing we saw was a horse.

Our hostess explained that her classic home started out as a log cabin. Several additions have been made over the years. All in all, the house seemed like a bit of real live history. It was our kind of place.

One of the many items in the house which happened to catch my eyes, along with a portrait of Robert E. Lee, was a framed document which featured the legendary Daniel Boone. The document was created by The Boone Society.

"My footsteps have often been marked with blood...Two darling sons and a brother have I lost..." a bold headline at the top of the document read. "Some of those blood-marked footsteps are at a creek in Bourbon County, Kentucky." Wow. We truly were experiencing a little bit of history.

"On October 6, 1780, Daniel Boone and his brother Edward 'Ned' Boone were returning from a hunting trip at the Blue Licks when they stopped at a creek to let their horses cool and graze," the document continued. "Ned sat down at the bank of the creek to crack walnuts while Daniel wandered off in pursuit of game.

"The crack of rifle shot(s) suddenly rang out. Daniel looked back in horror. A group of Shawnee warriors stood over Ned's body.

"Spotting Daniel off in the distance, the Shawnee release their dog. Daniel ran into a thick canebrake and brought down the animal with one shot.

"Fearing this second American would shoot from the cane, the Indians retreated. Daniel, on foot, barely escaped with his life.

"The creek, thereafter, became known as Boone Creek, in honor of Edward.

"The Boone Society, Inc. invites you to walk where Daniel and Edward Boone walked and visit the ground where blood was shed in the venerable days of the early frontier. Boone Creek has changed little since that tragic day. Once a place of great danger, it is now a serene and fitting memorial to the sacrifice of the Boone Family in the settlement of the Commonwealth of Kentucky." 

The idea of walking in the footsteps of such folks as Daniel Boone and his family are fascinating. Perhaps, the next time we are in the Bluegrass Country, we'll pay a visit to Boone Creek...and maybe look for some walnuts.

Oh, by the way...the wedding went just as planned. And, following a reception, they drove off into the sunset. Really. We had no idea where they went...