Finding Common Ground....

This past Sunday, I gathered with friends and spent the afternoon getting this 405 acre farm in Western Maryland ready for the first annual Common Ground on Martins Mountain Festival:



My friend and former neighbor, Jon Felton, is the brain child for this music festival. It will bring musicians together from a four state region, and it will also have an environmental-sustainability emphasis that focuses on regional issues.

We all brought hammers and gloves and worked through the afternoon cleaning and preparing the Coffeehouse/Music Barn:


and building the music stage for the Ruckus Tent (the bands playing on this one will live up to the name!)



There will be workshops all weekend on topics from gardening to wild edibles. We also lined up a speaker to do presentations on Mountaintop Removal mining and we will be doing some direct actions from the festival site, such as calling our representatives and petitioning.

It looks to be a fun, all ages festival with great music and comraderie. I'll be playing a set in the Coffeehouse barn and there will be a very eclectic line-up of musicians under the Ruckus Tent including Jon's band 'Soulmobile Eternal', and another local friend's band, 'The Christmas Lights'. A sample of their fun ruckus HERE and HERE.




(as a side note, i posted below about setting my blog to private. those who have contacted me need to send me an e-mail because i have to put in your e-mail address to send you an invitation to read. there is an e-mail link in my profile. i'm still trying to figure out how to do it! thanks.... )

Swan Song...

if i were wild and free,

i'd dance joyfully....

the moonlight my company.

if i were wild and free,

i'd sigh contentedly...

your weight above me,

the earth sinking beneath.

these words you say to me...

somehow they hold the key,

to these chains that bind me.

so whisper them sweetly,

and i'll close my eyes and dream

of the day when we will be....

FREE

Free Flowing...

i was peaceful before i met you,

but i wasn't smiling.... or laughing.

i wasn't lonely before i met you,

but i wasn't hopeful, either.

i thought i heard a sound when you came around...

but maybe i was just hearing things,

like when you are expecting someone

and your ears are extra alert to every noise...

you think you hear a car pull in or a door close shut,

but no one's really there.

i want you here.... and i don't.

it's too much and it's too little.

they say the journey to joy and sorrow follow the same road.

i thought I was choosing joy.

now I'm unsure of the destination....

i guess all we can do is walk.

A West Virginia hoe-down and a little nepotism....

We know how to have a good time in Appalachia. I was caught on tape recently flat-footing at the Cd Release party for my friends, The Fox Hunt. If you love traditional music, you'll love their new album. It can be ordered here.

I miss all of you and hope to be posting again soon!

With Love.... Blue

MY Redemption Song.....

... sounds like the creaky chains of the porch swing

as my son and i snuggle in motion,

while watching the hummingbirds at the feeder

and the morning mist slowly lift off of the mountains.

it sounds like the screech owl,

crying out from its moonlit perch by the edge of the creek...

the shrill call echoing through the dark vale.

it sounds like familiar voices of family and friends...

milk and honey flowing from their lips,

a soothing balm of comforting words.

it sounds like the strains of a fiddle,

the tapping of feet,

the crackling of an evening fire...

laughter at dusk.

sometimes it is barely audible, yet still tangible...

felt, more than heard.

in the quietness, i can still detect the faint melody.

so as the morning mist loosens its nightly hold on these hills,

this blanket begins to relinquish its smothering grip on my heart...

and new stanzas are written and imprinted

on this fallible, hopeful human soul.

The Solitary Reaper

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

-William Wordsworth

After a day of cloud and wind and rain

Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,

And touching all the darksome woods with light,

Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing,

Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring,

Drops down into the night.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Travel and Transition.... these will be the theme words for my summer. And thus, I'm afraid I won't be blogging much. But I wanted to part with this photo of the sunset from my deck. It is quite representative of my journey right now, but with hope that the dawn will be even more glorious.

I may be able to stop in here and there. And you can also e-mail me through the address on my profile if you'd like to keep in touch that way. I will miss every one of you and wish you all a wonderful summer!