i have snuffed out this candle,
again and again,
determined to live
without the light it casts.
i don't see the shadows
when it's dark.

eventually
enough stumbling,
groping,
hoping,
reignites it,
long enough
to gather
bearings.
then the leaning over,
exhaling,
exterminating.

brief solace.
i will let you light it now.
when you are ready
for the shadows.

Summer's Bounty...
(or a photo tribute to learning to garden as a townie, in smaller spaces. all the bounty and flowers are from my yard, except the berries, which were found along a nearby trail)

"Nature is, above all, profligate.

Don't believe them when they tell you how economical and thrifty nature is,
whose leaves return to the soil.
Wouldn't it be cheaper to leave them on the tree in the first place?
This deciduous business alone is a radical scheme,
the brainchild of a deranged manic-depressive with limitless capital.
Extravagance!
Nature will try anything once."

-annie dillard

(photo: rose of sharon blossoms drifting in a pond)

love note

surrounded by strangers
not acclimated to this air
i am right here
you're over there

ask to borrow my days
they are already lent
i've been on a spree
everything is spent

there is no change
nothing to give back
i poured it all out
from the longing....
and the lack

of air that is familiar.

transient thoughts...

i was feeling heavy on the inside as i walked carefully on the old bricks, dodging the tree roots where they bulged up out of the ground and broke apart the path.
a slight drizzle began, and i slowed down and turned my focus upward for a moment, trying to read the sky.
but then the drizzle turned into a downpour, and i stepped underneath the shelter of a giant, aged oak tree.... a little reprieve.... a deep breath.
as i inhaled, a drop of saltwater began to trickle down my cheek, as if to show unity with the decision of the skies that day.
the funny thing was, that, in perfect synchronization, one huge raindrop made it through the leafy canopy and fell onto me.
i wondered, as it slid onto my forehead, if it picked up the scent of my hair on the way.
it continued to heed the law of gravity, and slowly trickled down my face and mingled with the drop of saltwater that had escaped the confines of that still broken place.
i felt its path as it slid onto my shoulder and then watched it get washed into the cracks of the sidewalk.... my tear, my scent, my skin mixed in with it.
i thought about where it had been in all its journeys... millions of years making its way through the earth and into rivers and air and clouds.
who else had once been in that raindrop?
whose scent and skin cells and tears and dust had it held, only to purify itself across stones? make it all void and start all over again.

then i exhaled and stepped out from under the tree.
i took my shoes off and let my feet sink down into the wet earth and grass.
i stood there and let my skin absorb every drop it could. life was in those drops of rain.
and i loved it all during that ephemeral moment.
i loved the wet dirt, the slimy bricks, the feel of my soaked dress clinging to my skin.
i looked over and saw a little old lady watching me from her porch swing......
and i think i loved her most of all.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

-mary oliver

she has always been one that feels the magic...
sometimes it stays just long enough to jot it down,
or chord it out, or capture it on film...
like how the light plays on a particular scene,
at just the right angle.
but she mostly has to be content
with savoring the brief glimpses,
without any documentation...
absorbing it fully at that very moment...
and walking away with stars in her head,
and a twinkle in her eye....

"When you have a child, you have to put things aside, though. You have to live for them, if not for yourself. I was aware of this. I knowed that I could not let myself die inside, so I struggled through and made a way for myself. Most important, I tried to find a way to get joy into my life. I had to have it there for Birdie's sake. She would have knowed if I was miserable, even if I smiled until my jaws ached. I couldn't just fake being all right; I really had to be.

So the rest of that year, I made a way for the possibility of joy. I looked for it anywhere I could find it. I got up early and left Birdie in the bed while I stepped out onto the porch to see the day come in.

Daylight is the time God moves about the best. I've heard people say that they liked to watch the world come awake. But the world is always awake; sunlight just makes it seeable. In that moment when light hit the mountain, when the sun cracked through the sky big enough to make a noise if our ears could hear it, I would be aware again of all the things that had been going on throughout the night. Morning just made it easier to hear. Light takes away the muteness.

I would stand there, frozen to death, but the cold made me see that I was alive, that I could feel everything I was meant to. You have to seek out the promise of joy, no matter what your circumstances..."

-Silas House
'A Parchment of Leaves'

These boys performing in my town.....





Combined with the third blizzard of the season blowing through....





Equals having four awesome people snowed into my house and being serenaded at whim...




What a lucky gal I am!

a new years eve... in retrospect.

i sprinkled on faerie dust.... on my face, and neck, and chest. i wanted to sparkle.
i braided my hair, and wore blue for you, to match my eyes, as you would say.
it had snowed, and the sky was brilliantly clear.
we put on our boots at midnight and hiked through the field... to the creek.
you put your arms around me and we looked up into the firmament, at the millions of sparkling lights, strung out before us..... the whole world was on fire at that very moment.
in the absolute quiet, on the blanketed ground, you whispered in my ear about the time you were sitting on a rock, overlooking the pacific ocean.... and a huge, brilliant, colorful light exploded in the distance. it woke you out of your reverie. it was your ebenezer. that there was so much more out there, things so much bigger than ourselves that we may never understand..... that we just get brief glimpses of.

you wanted to share that with me.
so in the hushed valley, on that cold, snow blanketed night, we spread out our love, like a feast. the heavens came down and joined in. and i was brought out of my deadness.... i was woken out of my reverie.

whisper

in the hush
away
i want to lean
into you
whisper
sacred things
in supine repose
so many voices
outshout
i still whisper
softly,
alone.

The Highlight of my Year......


...was meeting Jean Ritchie at this year's Appalachian Festival. She was the Capstone Performer and the day's events ended with a performance by her in the historic Palace Theatre. I was so giddy with excitement that I blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl when I was talking to her. She's MY American Idol.

Born in Viper, KY, Jean Ritchie was really the first person to introduce the mountain dulcimer to the world outside of the Appalachian Mountains. She left Eastern Kentucky in the 1940's to do social work in New York, and she brought her dulcimer and old family songs with her. Many of the songs I sing are her versions, and a lot were actually written by her.

I was so moved during the performance, as were most people. Jean is now in her 80's, and although her voice falters, she still has a pure, unadulterated voice that is unmatched, as she grew up without any of the outside influences that today's traditional musicians have. I will treasure the experience.....

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!