The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the Lord of hosts. The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity, says the Lord of hosts.
Haggai 2:8-9
Even though Papaw felt that he had all of the culture he needed right there in Iredell County, we still felt compelled to take him to Biltmore House in Asheville, NC. Biltmore House will never be the same again, and I know that we won’t.
Biltmore is a gorgeous estate, built by George Vanderbilt near Asheville, NC. Construction on this incredible home began in 1889, but was not complete until 1895; six years to build one home. Its vast expanse overlooks a significant portion of the Smokey Mountains and provides a picturesque view of the land that the Lord gave us to watch over. The Vanderbilt’s left no luxury out of this house, and its opulence is a thing of legend. Many people from around the world visit it each year, in its many seasons, to enjoy the grandeur of it and compare it to their own humble dwellings. Biltmore puts on a particularly spectacular display around Christmas with decorations, and choirs, and mulled ciders. The Christmas season is when we chose to take Papaw to Biltmore.
As we entered the estate, it was magical. The weather was gorgeous, the house was impeccably decorated, and we were enjoying the gift of family to its fullest. The long lawn leading up to the front door was cut and clean as only a professional organization could keep it. Biltmore even provided a long series of tents that were heated for us to be in while we waited in line to get our tickets. It seemed that nothing was too good for Biltmore’s guests. The wait was long, but it wasn’t unpleasant. We discussed the weather, the beauty of the estate, what Tommy was doing with the cows now, and what we were going to do for lunch.
Mamaw still got around fairly well, but Papaw had problems with his knees and his mobility was somewhat diminished. As we entered the house, we convinced Papaw to ride in a wheelchair so that it would not be so difficult on his knees. This actually lasted most of the day with us pushing him from room to room; much longer than any of us really expected. Papaw would give us directions of where he wanted to go with his usual grunts, pointing, and waving his hand, and we would oblige so that he could see what he wanted.
We gently strolled from room to room, looking at the beautiful arrangements and accoutrements in each room. Each room had its own unique design and theme, and, as a result, its own unique decoration for Christmas. Papaw did not quite appreciate all of the work that they put into it as much as he just enjoyed being with his family. Papaw did try, but he tired very quickly.
As he tired his patience also waned, and his desire to stay in the wheelchair diminished. Finally, by the time we got to the third floor he had had as much of that wheelchair as he could stand, and out he came. He got along fairly well, to be as tired as he was. Luckily, the pace of the procession of people through the rooms on that floor was quite slow. We would move 5 or 10 feet then wait for a minute or so then move another 5 or 10 feet.
In the trips that I had made to Biltmore prior to this visit I had never had the opportunity to visit this third floor. It had only recently been opened to the public, and even then, only small portions of it had. The wooden paneling and the wooden floor were especially nice. They gave the place a nice majestic feel, and the scent of the wood paneling just added to the ambiance. The sensation of walking through the halls of history in a grand legal library was breathtaking. Each footstep echoed through the halls, and the subtle creek of the floor under foot was audible even with this many people there. However, Papaw did not fully appreciate the intricate work that had been put into building this grand section of the house. Instead he tired even more rapidly and longed to get outside and sit down for a while. Unfortunately, at that moment we were more or less trapped until the line cleared up some.
We moved along as rapidly as we could for Papaw’s sake, but we could only move so fast. At one particular point we stopped for a moment in a mahogany colored alcove. The wood and the carving in it were magnificent. The musty smell of the wood was breathtaking, and the echo in this portion was even more than before. Even the most subtle whisper would carry great distances.
Papaw leaned against one of the great walls of the alcove and was visibly tired. He mentioned something about his knees aching and wiped his brow. Then, he hiked a leg and provided for the enjoyment of all one almighty fart. I would like to say that he passed gas, but that doesn’t come close to doing it justice. The bass tone rumble that came from his south end could only be described as a fart; there’s really no delicate way to put it. And boy did it echo. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind on the third floor of Biltmore that day what he had just done, and even less doubt as to where it had come from.
Then Mamaw began to laugh. Really, it was all she could do. Papaw showed no remorse; instead he only showed relief. Her laughter was refreshing to see, unlike the air we were in at the time. Mamaw laughed so hard and so long that she nearly lost control of her bladder. It was all we could do to get them both to a bathroom before we had a very unpleasant trip back home that evening. However, we did arrive at the facilities in time and all was well. Biltmore House will never be the same in anyone’s mind from the third floor that day, and perhaps that day is why the third floor is rarely open to visitors even now.
Haggai 2:8-9
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| Biltmore Estate Asheville, NC |
Even though Papaw felt that he had all of the culture he needed right there in Iredell County, we still felt compelled to take him to Biltmore House in Asheville, NC. Biltmore House will never be the same again, and I know that we won’t.
Biltmore is a gorgeous estate, built by George Vanderbilt near Asheville, NC. Construction on this incredible home began in 1889, but was not complete until 1895; six years to build one home. Its vast expanse overlooks a significant portion of the Smokey Mountains and provides a picturesque view of the land that the Lord gave us to watch over. The Vanderbilt’s left no luxury out of this house, and its opulence is a thing of legend. Many people from around the world visit it each year, in its many seasons, to enjoy the grandeur of it and compare it to their own humble dwellings. Biltmore puts on a particularly spectacular display around Christmas with decorations, and choirs, and mulled ciders. The Christmas season is when we chose to take Papaw to Biltmore.
As we entered the estate, it was magical. The weather was gorgeous, the house was impeccably decorated, and we were enjoying the gift of family to its fullest. The long lawn leading up to the front door was cut and clean as only a professional organization could keep it. Biltmore even provided a long series of tents that were heated for us to be in while we waited in line to get our tickets. It seemed that nothing was too good for Biltmore’s guests. The wait was long, but it wasn’t unpleasant. We discussed the weather, the beauty of the estate, what Tommy was doing with the cows now, and what we were going to do for lunch.
Mamaw still got around fairly well, but Papaw had problems with his knees and his mobility was somewhat diminished. As we entered the house, we convinced Papaw to ride in a wheelchair so that it would not be so difficult on his knees. This actually lasted most of the day with us pushing him from room to room; much longer than any of us really expected. Papaw would give us directions of where he wanted to go with his usual grunts, pointing, and waving his hand, and we would oblige so that he could see what he wanted.
We gently strolled from room to room, looking at the beautiful arrangements and accoutrements in each room. Each room had its own unique design and theme, and, as a result, its own unique decoration for Christmas. Papaw did not quite appreciate all of the work that they put into it as much as he just enjoyed being with his family. Papaw did try, but he tired very quickly.
As he tired his patience also waned, and his desire to stay in the wheelchair diminished. Finally, by the time we got to the third floor he had had as much of that wheelchair as he could stand, and out he came. He got along fairly well, to be as tired as he was. Luckily, the pace of the procession of people through the rooms on that floor was quite slow. We would move 5 or 10 feet then wait for a minute or so then move another 5 or 10 feet.
In the trips that I had made to Biltmore prior to this visit I had never had the opportunity to visit this third floor. It had only recently been opened to the public, and even then, only small portions of it had. The wooden paneling and the wooden floor were especially nice. They gave the place a nice majestic feel, and the scent of the wood paneling just added to the ambiance. The sensation of walking through the halls of history in a grand legal library was breathtaking. Each footstep echoed through the halls, and the subtle creek of the floor under foot was audible even with this many people there. However, Papaw did not fully appreciate the intricate work that had been put into building this grand section of the house. Instead he tired even more rapidly and longed to get outside and sit down for a while. Unfortunately, at that moment we were more or less trapped until the line cleared up some.
We moved along as rapidly as we could for Papaw’s sake, but we could only move so fast. At one particular point we stopped for a moment in a mahogany colored alcove. The wood and the carving in it were magnificent. The musty smell of the wood was breathtaking, and the echo in this portion was even more than before. Even the most subtle whisper would carry great distances.
Papaw leaned against one of the great walls of the alcove and was visibly tired. He mentioned something about his knees aching and wiped his brow. Then, he hiked a leg and provided for the enjoyment of all one almighty fart. I would like to say that he passed gas, but that doesn’t come close to doing it justice. The bass tone rumble that came from his south end could only be described as a fart; there’s really no delicate way to put it. And boy did it echo. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind on the third floor of Biltmore that day what he had just done, and even less doubt as to where it had come from.
Then Mamaw began to laugh. Really, it was all she could do. Papaw showed no remorse; instead he only showed relief. Her laughter was refreshing to see, unlike the air we were in at the time. Mamaw laughed so hard and so long that she nearly lost control of her bladder. It was all we could do to get them both to a bathroom before we had a very unpleasant trip back home that evening. However, we did arrive at the facilities in time and all was well. Biltmore House will never be the same in anyone’s mind from the third floor that day, and perhaps that day is why the third floor is rarely open to visitors even now.
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