Isn't it time?

My friends in Colorado are already holding it over me. The ones out east weren't happy about it. I think it's about time, isn't it? Even the Rally Squirrel is already enjoying it. Snow. Autumn's glory is faded. Dreary skies are dripping. It's time for a change. For crystals to grace the sky and cheer the grey. Isn't it time?

Learning

This year I am taking fiddle lessons at the Folk School. It's something I've wanted to do for quite a while, ever since I saw Darcie Deaville play fiddle with everyone at Woodyfest years and years ago. She is not a shy flower of a fiddler. No, she fiddles with fire, with style, with attitude! Not being a demure sort, the idea that I could be a strong female fiddler was quite appealing. Several teach yourself attempts were made, Lord knows Mel Bay had enough books & DVD's for me to try my hand, but I could never "get" the bowing. Well, I'm far from a virtuoso, but I can mostly hit the notes I'm looking for without screeching like a barn owl in heat thanks to the gentle coaching of instructor Ellen. You really are never too old to learn.

Shadows & Light

Yin & Yang.

Night & Day.

Shadows & Light.

One without the other upsets the balance of the universe. How can one truly experience the velvet of a soft night without having a crisp, bright day with which to compare it?

I crave both, need both to feed my emotions.

Heart or mind?

Without one the other is empty.

I want to be full.

Puppy uppers

Nothing relieves workday stress like a cute puppy trotting by your desk. Or licking your nose, big brown eyes sparkling. Working in a small, privately owned company, I have the advantage of on premises puppies. Rotten meeting? Pet the puppy. Frustrating email exchange? Play a little fetch the doggie toy. How could you not be thankful for fantastic furballs breaking up your day with a jump, a yip and a wag?

apples

Many years ago I drank the iKool-aid. Three desktops, two laptops and an iPod later, it almost killed me to buy a Palm Pixi phone. I felt like I was cheating on my husband. (But at $25.00 and usable on pay-as-you-go, I had to go with the orange.) Apple isn't perfect. First they kept the iMac G5's bulging capacitors under their hats, then they tried to hide the exploding 1st generation iPod nano batteries from the US, while offering replacements to all other corners of the globe. But people are still buying Toyotas, right? Today I heard that they are going to replace the affected 1st gens. Thanks, apple. I still love you.

Weeds

One man's trash is another man's treasure.

One woman's weed is a garden 0f mine.

Serendipitous garnish on a daily plate,

Roadside attractions of the botanical kind.

You can be gracious and call them wildflowers,

They are both floral and can be wild,

Clinging to bluffs and rocks and ditches,

Showing their beauty as you drive by.

Think different

Being different sucks when you're in third grade. It's not much better when you're in sixth. But by high school, well, not as bad. In tenth grade, I reveled in it. And then, something crazy happened. Other quirky individualists began to emerge, like fall colors from a sea of summer green. We were gleeks before there was 'glee'.

People still find me different. I laugh too often or too loud, stare at the snow falling too long, embrace alternative priorities, and am grateful to see the world from a slightly askew perspective. It's good to be a white squirrel.

Thankful for midwest music

Nuff said.

Jayhawks

Whimsy

You don't have to take things so seriously all the time.

Want to understand? Follow me....

Scroll down to Folk Uke's cover of Harry Nilsson's "He Needs Me" and take a listen.

Many thanks to BoyHowdy for his always thoughtful posts and ever faithful heart.

Sky sight

I never tire of the sky. Possibly it began with the cloud games we all play as little children... and that one looks like a.... Over the years most give up the game until they have kids or grandkids to entertain. Not me. I've never stopped staring at the sky seeing scotty dogs and Abe Lincoln in the clouds, or watching jets draw contrail pentagrams on the horizon. But the best shows are early or late or stormy skies. Colors and silhouettes. Billows and streaks. Fire. More than once I've nearly run off the road watching its beauty unfold while trying to navigate an interstate. No officer, I have not been drinking, I was transfixed by the sunset. A likely story, unless he knew me. Then he'd understand; I'm just living in praise of the sky.

Hearts and Crafts

Is it art or craft? Personally, I believe the difference lies in the creative process. If I am following a pre-made pattern, trace a picture to paint for example, I feel that it is a craft. However, if I conceive of the piece myself, I draw a picture of something I see, then it falls into art. My brain: art. I copy: craft. Both can be beautiful, both fulfilling to accomplish.

Often I am an artist, equally I practice craft. Does it matter? The fact that I question, perhaps points to the answer . Perhaps. Then again, maybe it is all in how the process makes you feel. Satisfied, frustrated, spent and grateful. Art.

Obscuriana

Why do I know this stuff? Today while walking I spied four wooly bear caterpillars. (Not this one.) They all had insanely tiny black ends with a huge, wide brown middle. If the folklore is to be believed, we are going to have an extremely mild winter.

Itchy left hand? Expect some money soon. Plant lettuce on Valentines Day if you want a good, sweet crop. Crickets are good luck. Saying "I hate white rabbits!" will make smoke from a campfire turn away from you. Nose itches? Company's coming (or you are going to kiss a fool). Why do I remember this stuff?

All this obscuriana cluttering up my brain. Folklore, remedies, recipes, superstitions, you'd think I was a mountain woman from 1800's Appalachia. If pressed, I could make soap, settle your upset tummy with blackberry leaf tea, feed you a tasty salad from weeds in my lawn, or read the leaves to predict a storm on the way. These are things you just don't learn going up in the city. To paraphrase John Denver, thank God I'm a country girl.

Last gasp

Pork steaks and zucchini on the grill. Tanqueray and tonics in tall tumblers. Poco playing on the iPod. Sunset glowing like charcoal fire in the sky. Summer came back for a November visit.

At the back door, lavender still sparsely blooms. Buckets by the shed hold the last straggling basil, untouched by first frost. Volunteer zinnias sprout from September dropped seeds, confused by the wavering seasons. Soon the snow will stop them cold, but for now we toast our thanks to Indian Summer.

Prickleberry

A halo of flowers, a crown of thorns

Wisps and claws and fragrance,

Stars in twilight, gibbous moon

Snow on the fence it graces.

Summer waits, autumn hides

Winter is barely a memory,

Now spring wears its prickly crown

Relishing ethereal irony.

Give thanks for the bramblefruit.

Harmony and me

Dar Williams said it best, "I'm a harmony whore.

I'll do harmony with anybody any time."

In the musical that is my life, (yes, it is likely that I will break into song for no apparent reason), there is always harmony in my head. Dissonance, resolve. Minor drones with major lifts. "A head full of songs". I ache for that shining moment when you cannot discern Crosby from Stills from Nash from Young. They are blended into one perfect chord, one mystical voice. Is it magic? Is it craft? Is it the lifting of the veil? Is it practice? Yes, and I am thankful for all of the above.

(photo: Nash, Joel Raphael, Crosby in OKC July 2011)

Thanksgiving Patina

Going round the table, themes of thankfulness emerge. Health. Family. Friends. Shelter. Food. All worthy of gratitude, all a blessing from whatever flavor of consciousness to which you subscribe. Fortunately, my life is enriched beyond just the turkey and mashed potatoes. There’s a whole world of sides out there and frankly, sometimes they are the best part of the meal.

Take patina. Without the patina of age, everything would look shiny and new. Everything. Leaves would stay green each fall. Wooden instruments would never develop a rich, sweet tone. George Clooney would still have that ugly Caesar hair from his ER days. Antiques would not exist. And while the specter of the fountain of youth seems what we chase, how boring perpetual youth would eventually become. So I am grateful for patina. Now you know why.

A Month of Gratitude

A year. Not a great year. Not a disastrous year. Again, I must remind myself, be thankful.

Autumn brings refreshing crisp mornings, fiery sunsets, crystalline frosts and the promise of snow. A deep breath. Grateful. Every day.

Today I am thankful for sleep.

While I sleep, I don't feel fat, ugly or frumpy. In my dreams I am my best self, even as I fall, drown or scream in terror because someone is cutting my hair. Sleep is warm, comforting. It is a refuge from reality masquerading as a necessity. Best of all, it's free. Yes, I am grateful for sleep.

Tall Buildings Spied

While I don't know a lot about architecture, I do know what I like, what sparks my imagination, what stays with me & moves me. Somehow, I just don't think that 100 years from now people will be waxing nostalgic over this generation's great contributions to the everyday landscape. "Wow, look at this one! They used to call it a McMansion. You can tell that at least three-fourths of the front of it was garage doors. Now that was style!" Hey, I could be wrong. But my guess is that in 100 more years, folks will still be looking at the few remaining town squares & main streets preserved from the 1800's. Function met beauty and adornment was everywhere. I saw a lot of these buildings in Louisiana & Hannibal, Missouri this autumn. More photos at my other blog:
http://eyespye-ruralgurl.blogspot.com/2010/11/tall-buildings.html
Enjoy.

Autumn in 600 words or less

It's been a busy autumn here in Lake Beentoolong, my home town.....

You know you're busy when you don't have time to edit your photos. Or even get them pulled off the memory card. But things should be evening out here soon. Busy doing what?

Back in September I helped out a friend with the local Nordstroms Rack grand opening. Then it stayed busy. so I stayed on. And on. And on. And now it's a regular part time gig. Extra money is nice, a discount on super-cool shoes is a good thing, and in this economy, having a back up to your full time job is prudent. But I'm a lot older than the last retail gig I had where I was on my feet all day, almost eight years, and boy, do I feel it when I work an 8 hour shift. Epsom Salts are my new best friend. A little lavender oil in the water and it's what legs crave.

Then there was Florida. Visiting family there is always a treat, if a tad exhausting. You hate to waste any of the 144 hours you have there, so it's always a dead run. I took over 600 pics, so sooner or later they will be showing up here and there. Multiple beaches, a hike in a swamp, a bike rally, an art show, the flea market, shopping, dinners out and derelict lakefront property.

Not long after returning, we trekked to Hannibal for the Folklife festival. It's always a favorite of ours; good food, music, art, fall color. Stopped in Louisiana, MO along the way and took tons of architectural shots. The old downtown is full of great late 1800's structures, built when their river port was a-bustling. Those will show up, too.

But wait, there's more... There was a dinner party, my husbands birthday, the Shawnee Wine trail, and a celebration music service at church, all tucked in between double work, stuff at home and a partridge in a pear tree. Yes, it's been a busy, busy autumn.

I swear, it followed me home

The Martin SW00DB Machiche is a limited edition "sustainable wood" guitar. Only 125 were made. This one followed me home and how could I turn it away? Poor baby.

I do have a thing for the limited edition stuff. Guess it's the collector in me. First time I've ever bought a guitar without playing it first; a little scary. But everything turned out better than fine. I think it needs an ivory saddle and I haven't decided how to amplify it yet. When I get that all figured out, I'll have Mike at Midwest Guitar take care of it, he's always done me right.

In the mean time, I'll just lower the tusq saddle a bit on my own, put on my fave strings and warm up to the newest addition to the stable. No name yet, but since it's part of the Women & Music Martin group, my smallest guitar and as a bastardization of the wood, I'm leaning toward "The Chick."