"Welcome to the Stubbs family, and God help you."
-Denys Stubbs, spoken to John Mahood upon request to marry Denys' daughter

One Hundred Years. A little has changed since 1910, but one constant through those many years has been White House farm, home of the Stubbs Family. One October Third the many Stubbs' from across the UK (unfortunately we were the only representatives of the US contingent) gathered at White House to celebrate 100 years since Percy Stubbs the First became owner of this house and the land around it. Since then, he and his wife Frances handed it down to Denys and Margaret (my grandparents), who turned it into one of the greatest family centers ever known to man. With first five children, then five children-in-law, then dozens of grandchildren, then eventually a smattering of great grandchildren, their was and is a true family clan. Now that they have passed on (both in the last couple of years) the house is filled with even more light and laughter and, especially, music, always music, played exclusively at one volume setting (very loud). An old house, made of red brick, with sprawling farm buildings behind (including our newly constructed stable), and rolling green pastures filled with white sheep. The house has a white facade, hence the name, with tall black windows and bright green trees springing up the wall, with flowers at their feet. The house, though ancient in exterior and in framework (there are still massive oak beams criss-crossing the ceiling), has been brightly and brilliantly redecorated multiple times by various inhabitants. In my humble opinion, it is now at the most beauitiful it has ever been, with Emma Stubbs (an artist of great skill who paints pastoral animals and religious icons with equal ease) on one side in a house bedecked with fur and wool and butterflies and monkeys and luscious pinks and yellows, and Kat Stubbs (another artist, and skilled decorator) on the other side, a menagerie of bright bright colors, blooming plants, russian dolls, silver, gold, colored glass. Both sides are utterly luxurious, and a constant feast for the eyes. I can say with absolute honesty that every day I have been here I have discovered a new ornament of some description.

But better by far then either exterior or interior has always been the inhabitants. I have attempted to paint a bit of a portrait of the various characters but suffice it to say that they are all huge personalities with a million fun traits and talents. The friendships that Casey and I have developed with Ben, Kat, Toby, Kate, and Emma are, thus far in our travels our greatest treasure. (I have of course  known these people a long time, but have only Really met them on this trip). It is wonderful to have so many Great friends in my family. Families can be a place of trial, but this one, for me, is a place of exultant happiness and comfort.

So, all that said, it should come as no surprise that the Centenary Weekend was an absolute success. It started when work ended at 11AM on Friday, with a three-hour delectable Thai feast of an Executive Lunch (featuring green curry, prawn tempura, and ginger chicken stir-fry). After this excessive feast we returned home and launched into party prep, which involved sweeping up 10,000 wet leaves in the front driveway (the Late Summer weather has not yet disappeared, but is occasionally replaced by brief, intense rain showers), and clearing up the entire exterior of the house, followed by and intense interior cleanup, the house bedecked with flowers, vines, lights, art, and a more than a little bit of champagne and wine (which helped fuel the cleanup). The anticipation was constant, and for all of Saturday we did countless odd jobs, played music, and lounged in the sunshine in the Croft (Emma's refuge, a garden full of jubilantly decorated caravans and fun nooks and crannys to hang out). Saturday night the family arrived, as did the Ale, delicious, crafted at a local brewery and delivered in a keg (leaving us to complete The 72! Challenge, that is to drink all 72 pints in 24 hours, which, needless to say, we did). Then began the real party, as Kat converted the house into a disco, complete with sparkling disco lights and Michael Jacksons The Way You Make Me Feel.

"Festive" is a totally innadequate word.

Finally came the official party, at noon on Sunday. We devoured mountains of canapes of delicate fish and crackers, spicy and savory and lovely. The tables were groaning under heaps of our local pork, jacket potatoes, a lush salad, bread and corn and a million delicious treats. And then the desserts, 6 different pies from almost every branch of the family, including apple strudel, cherry pie, peach pie, apple, rhubarb, and merangue. And then the cheese board, from Cornwall, with exquisite cheddar and blue cheeses that sent me, if possible, into even greater extasy than the pies had. Everyone was dressed stunningly, and the room was bursting with joy. I read a few words my dad had sent (I will post next), and we had very speeches reminiscent of Bilbo Baggins at his 111st Birthday. One of the guests (aged 91) had actually met his wife at White House, while another had been working for Denys for 35 years, so the speeches carried some heft. Margaret and Denys would have been very happy and proud. It was a wonderful event, incomparable. As the guests drifted away we collapsed into a joyful Sunday evening stupor, extremely well deserved.

A final note: sorry about the long wait since the last post...major technology breakdowns and having a good time gets in the way of blogging. more to come....