We had a chance to get together with some of our musician friends last week and make this video. We created with the intent to send it to NPR for their tiny desk concert contest. The winner gets to go to Washington D.C. to record a real tiny desk concert and the only main rule for submissions is that you have to shoot the video near a desk. So we went to the Peter White Library where there are so many nice desks.
I wrote this mini-disaster song being inspired by the old time song, "All The Good Times Are Over". Kerry and I have sung together quite a few times, and Randy and I have made music at his house and in the barn where he used to live, but this is my first time playing with Bud Clowers and Harry South, two musicians who I've seen around town in one band or another. It was a delight the way they both picked up the song and added to it tastefully.
We have been working like ants getting the house finished this summer. Painting, installing flooring downstairs, and building a decent woodshed- and then filling it with wood of course.
Now it's on to trim. This week we're hanging doors and planing the boards we milled up back in 2007, as mentioned in one of the first posts of this blog.
Everybody's eager to move into their own rooms.
My first plan for these videos was just to set a camera up by our wood stove where I usually like to sit in the evenings and play some songs as the kids go to sleep. Thank God Erica stepped in and made this series much more interesting. Here though, in the depth of a deep winter, a deep winter song seems best delivered in that quintessential place of shelter, the seat by the fire. We included a few images of the boys skating on a little pond Aya found and shoveled off.
Happy St. Lucy's Day! St. Lucy lived about 1700 years ago in what is now Italy. The stories are a little fuzzy after all those years, but my best understanding of her was that she was a teenager who stood up to a cruel authority who could not shake her of her stillness and bold speaking of truth. At one point the guy in charge threatened to sell her as a slave if she wouldn't comply, and she told him calmly that she couldn't be ashamed of that status if she was forced into it, that the shame would be on him. He then had soldiers try and carry her away (they couldn't move her, even when tying her to horses) and try to burn her (their matches wouldn't light) and then cut her with a sword (she stayed alive a while after her guts fell out and told everybody what was really going on.)
I'm not sure how her story became this Italian song –or this Swedish tradition of electing a young girl to be Sankta Lucia and wear candles on her head and bring saffron buns to everyone, but here's my best interpretation: In Italy I can see how this pure feminism would become a symbol of the beauty and power of the wind and water and the spirit of the place. And in Sweden, where it's awful dark and cold this time of year, I can imagine the innocence and boldness which is so well exemplified in teenage girls to be an important source of spiritual light and food. There's a girl kinda like this in my house, baking excellent things and speaking wisdom to her parents and friends.
Erica has collected images of many children wearing the crown of candles and fit them together. Thanks to Go Like the Wind School and St. Paul's Episcopal Church for allowing space for this.
I met with Joshua Davis this evening at his dad's house and we sang a few songs and decided to go out and sing this one by the river. It was about 10 degrees out so by the end of it we both gave up on manual dexterity. http://joshuadavismusic.com/
Bird Name Blues. Happy Thanksgiving. Here's a song recorded at Seeds and Spores farm. This turkey pen is a rigid hoop house that can be pulled around the field so that after a harvest the birds eat fresh organic produce and the land can get tilled up and the ground fertilized and then they chain it to a tractor and pull it 20 or so feet down to the next spot. They're working wonders out there. Their website is worth a visit: seedsandspores.com/
Here's a song from a few years ago, in the deep winter nights, when we lived in the house we all refer to as the "little cabin." It was a one room place we built when we moved out here. It was my first attempt at a building and built in a real hurry with about $5,000. It's in need of a new roof already because of a screwy design. It was a sweet home though and served us well for about five years.
Here's something I wrote this morning after my son knocked over a can of paint. Before I got angry at his carelessness, I saw how afraid of punishment he was. It wasn't much paint, and even if it was, it wasn't worth getting upset about. Accidents happen and there is usually nothing to do but clean up and move on. Still, as we were wiping the floor, I was trying to make some kind of reason for the incident.
Maybe he just needed a reminder that his parents love him no matter what. That was enough for me.
It made me think of careless things I have done that may well have been caused by my unchecked subconscious attempting to fathom the devotion of the people close to me. And it reminded me of a quote from the Course in Miracles that says something like, "Every attack is a cry for help."
So I wrote this because I thought this was a part of human nature that needs to be laughed at. Maybe it's not funny, but I have a weird sense of humor.