How Many Hours in a Day?

My dad, along with a few close friends, ever so often tries to remind me that there are only 24 hours in a day.

I go through spurts when I try to fit as many possibilities into one day, hour, week (or any given time period) as possible. It isn't something I premeditate. In fact, it's almost instinctual. Or could it be habitual? All I know is that any logical and self-preserving side of my brain becomes overwhelmed with a sense of urgency that I must do A, B, C, D & ...... NOW. Simultaneously, if at all possible.

I am not sure where this instinct is rooted, or, if it is a habit, how it was formed. I had a lot of friends die before reaching 30 (hell, even 21), and I know that probably planted a "life is short and uncertain; live while you can" panic button deep in my soul. even so... i'm not sure why i put myself through this manic pattern: run, run, run until my body, mind and/or psyche force me to collapse.

today is a prime example of what i often do to myself (note: this is in no way meant to be a reflection of a "typical day" in my life. it is meant to reflect an overall pattern i keep repeating). i started my day when my alarm went off at 3:45 AM. my banjo mentor and friend, lee sexton, was having a cataract removed from his eye, and he needed a lift to the pikeville hospital. his appointment was at 6:45 AM, which meant i had to pick him up at his house at 4:45 to get him there on time. it is now 10:22 PM. i did a lot of other things today besides driving to the hospital and back, including an attempt to help neighbor bill figure out/troubleshoot the screwy lighting in my basement, writing reports/proposals, directing a kids' theater rehearsal and meeting with several different people about several different projects. the details are fuzzy, and i am resisting sleep because of this insane sense of urgency that i need to do this and that and something about getting quotes on banjo cases and/or travel banjos b/c someone might buy me a banjo for my trip to poland....

a part of me wants to keep going going going and following up on all these connections, ideas, etc. and that part of me doesn't seem to realize that there's a tomorrow. i really like this part of me. she's the kind of person you'd want to hitchhike around the world with. my sleepless gypsy. but somehow i've got to teach her the delicate art of pace and space.

the pace i'm thinking of is yoga-esque slow breathing pace. iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnn............ and ooooooouuuuuuuuuut........
the space i'm thinking of is the soft, multi-layered blissful nest that is my bed.

Blue Bird

When I first moved into my house on Judy Branch, I found a dead blue bird in my wood stove. Who knows how long its little body had been there. Even more disturbing is to think of how long it was trapped inside that ash-filled box before it finally died.

Yesterday, I prevented that fate from falling upon another bird. I woke to hear rustling from the living room and soon discerned the sound was coming from the stove. I was relieved to find that the bird was trapped in the actual stove and not the pipe. Her chances of survivial were much better this way, and I wouldn't have to worry about if it was worth burning out a birds nest to keep warm at night! Cat Rosie was standing on her back legs with her nose and front paws squished up to the glass window. The bird, understandably, looked like it had lost all hope of surviving this. I mean, even if it did manage to miraculously get out through that window, there was a big nasty cat ready to make bird meat out of her! What a horrible morning she must have been having.

I grabbed a dish cloth, shooed the cat away from the stove door, and gently scooped the little bird out and held her close to my breast. She didn't move. Outside I was greeted by an unseasonably warm, sunny morning. I gently placed my dishcloth swaddle on the potting table and unwrapped the little bird. What the gloom and the ashes inside the stove had prevented me from seeing was a brilliant blue breast and honey maple tipped wings. She uprighted herself, rustled her feathers and immediately flew off beyond sight.

cutting the apron strings

there are some people that you can be "stuck" with 24 hours a day for several days and never tire of each other's company. i rarely put myself in that situation, and i'm always shocked when i discover that i have spent a significant amount of time in another's company without feeling a strong desire for solitude or escape. a recent trip with my parents required 24-7 companionship for four days. within the first few hours i began to feel an intense desire for alone time.

disclaimer:
i have always been fortunate to have parents that i respect, love and consider friends.

reality check:
a positive relationship and mature friendship with the parents requires we each have plenty of personal space away from each other.

i am relieved to be back home on judy branch. i got back in time to catch the last dance of the cowan creek mountain music school's fall gathering. all the road-weariness dissipated the moment i entered the community center, greeted by old friends and the sounds of square dancing and old time music. i jumped into the band at the next set, playing julianne johnson for twenty minutes. just the cure i was looking for! when i got home i had an urge to call an old friend who has been living in wyoming for several years. was excited that she will flying into south carolina in a few weeks. we have planned a rendezvous at hot springs. cabin is rented, hot tubs will be there for soaking, and we'll have two days to catch each other up on the last five or six years.

today bella and the judy branch pack and i enjoyed unseasonably warm weather as we walked around the holler and up onto cemetery hill to visit the horses and the spirits of judy branch.

other news is that my friend learned that the coal company is making plans to strip mine all the property on her creek. she’s called out the cavalry and is preparing for a big fight. probably the biggest fight of her life. she's been building herself a house for the past three years or more, and now that is all threatened. not to mention a long family history on that land. she told me that this is a time when you really appreciate all the friends you have. as one of those friends, we'll do whatever we can to stop it. so if i get arrested for civil disobedience, you'll know why. it's ironic, maybe even psychic that i started re-reading edward abbey's classic last week.

satisfaction

the following have brought me to the day's end with a satisfied mind:
throwing/stacking a big old truckload of firewood after a long day's work
a walk and a wrestling match with my somewhat speckled dog, bella (who can jump at least five feet straight up)
an evening out on line fork playing banjo and visiting with lee
the warmth of a wood fire on a chilly night
leftover homemade borscht
news that there is an elephant sanctuary not too far from my home town
knowing that in two days i'll be down in south mississippi visiting with relatives that i haven't seen for nearly a decade and/or have maybe never even met
the promise of a hot bubble bath followed by a bed pre-warmed by two slumbering cats and a dog
mmmmm

feeding the woodshed

now that i have had a few days back home on judy branch, i have caught up on my sleep and other necessary home life tasks. among those tasks is making use of remaining garden goods, which at present are: mustard greens, turnip greens, cilantro, mescalin mix and beets. i think a few carrots and several broccoli plants may produce before winter sets in, but they are still rather young, so we'll see.

this afternoon i pulled out a recipe i've been wanting to try for months. whole beet borscht. another recipe from laurel's kitchen that uses the entire beet rather than just the root or the leaf. a bonus of this recipe was that i got to use the grating disc on my cuisinart, a "new technology" that i am proud to have mastered! i fed that nifty machine beet roots, potatos and carrots, and within seconds i had several cups of brightly colored, slimy (bloody beets!) vegetable shreds. i still managed to stain my hands and cutting boards, but they are all a much lighter shade of magenta than they would have been if i'd grated the old fashioned way!

i got some fantastic news this week: i got the appalachian music fellowship, which means i'll get to spend the winter listening to archival music recordings and producing a radio series. it also means that i can finally order a fretless banjo, which i did this weekend. brooks , one of my new portland friends, is a talented luthier, so i called and asked him to make me a banjo. when he first returned my call, he left a message saying that i was probably out chopping firewood and that's why i didn't hear my phone. he was almost right. i was out collecting firewood for the night!

which gets me to another another important task achieved this weekend: replinishing the woodshed. this has been a challenging task because it requires a truck. you see, the kentucky mountains are different from tennessee and carolina mountains when it comes to firewood. when i lived in north carolina, there were many people i could call upon to purchase a cord (truckload) of firewood, delivered to my house. here in kentucky, it is near impossible to find firewood for sale, and if you do, it is a DIY system (you come load it up yourself). fortunately, the lack of a firewood market is because everyone usually has a stockpile of firewood from their land, and often they have plenty to spare. for the past two years some friends and fellow WMMT deejays who live near blackey have given me free firewood by the truckload. really good stuff, too. even so, my lack of a truck has delayed the collection of their generous offering for about 2 months. today neighbor bill lent me his truck, which is the biggest truck i have ever driven in my life. i steered it 8 miles down one lane roads (ok, 1/2 mile was on a two lane!) and over a small mountain to civil war gap, near carcassonne. i had to wait until about 5 in the evening so they would be back from doing their radio show. we loaded up the truck in the fading light while light snow began to fall. they invited me in for a cup of coffee and a piece of stack cake before i navigated the 8 miles back home. i'll unload it all tomorrow before i go to work. this evening, i'll enjoy my borscht and cornbread and then practice up on my banjo by the fire.

tomorrow evening i have another banjo lesson with lee, and i hope to pick up another couple of tunes to practice up on over the thanksgiving holidays.

Sleepless in Cedar Rapids

Even in Iowa I have become a master of surviving on very little sleep. Coffee and alcohol help (in moderation, of course!)

Although the Cedar Rapids trip was work related, I'm willing to write about it here, because this trip/work transcends my current workplace and is really more related the bigger picture of my "career," if that is what it is to be.

What brought be to Iowa, you may be wondering? It was the National Performance Network(NPN)annual meeting, of which my workplace/organization is a partner.I've been representing my organization at these meetings for the past three years. The NPN is an amazing network of arts presenting organizations and artists from across the U.S. that is intentionally diverse on every level imaginable. When I first started going to the meetings I was totally overwhelmed, but this year I really felt engaged and at the center of what was going on. Imagine a gathering of approximately 200 perfoming artists and arts presenters (mainly grassroots and social change leaning) in one place together for four days. Insane amounts of creativity were bouncing all through Cedar Rapids. So much, in fact, that I was able to battle 3+ weeks' sleep deprivation/exhaustion, jet lag, homesickness, post 30 bday shock and a nasty bloody cold to get into all kinds of great social and professional goodness. Meetings and networking at every hour imaginable. Performances interspersed throughout with full out showcases/performances every night. Following by more improptu arts sharing/jamming/networking.

A list has been started of artists (of every walk of life and from multiple locales) who are incredibly curious and enthusiastic about visiting my little workplace and spending a few days out on Judy Branch. My reply: "Y'all come!"

Even though I went into the meeting with some exhausted, burnt out work dread, I am leaving it reinvigorated, inspired AND, most importantly, with a PLAN. I have reminded by my wonderful colleagues that I belong to a larger, vibrant world/network filled with people I have been forming friendships with for nearly four years. Friends who want to see me grow and prosper and (drum roll...) be HAPPY. What a concept! I'm returning home from Cedar Rapids with great contacts and leads for my transition onto the next great adventure. Many doors have been unlocked, and the next year I'll be working on opening doors through my friendships in this beautiful network. Plus, I was asked to take a leadership position for the Southern Region partners, which, among more good times with colleagues, I'll be attending NPN Board meetings in New Orleans throughout the next year! I always love to spend time in the Gulf, especially if in good company (and the NPN staff are some of the best company to be in).

Between Portland and NPN, I have banked up on positive connections, gathering many keys and have begun to make a plan. The plan: ONE year until the big move. Right now, I think it may be Portland. But I'm keeping my options open. ONE year to make the change. One year to keep my head above water and focus on what's ahead.

I think I deserve a reward: SLEEP!

beets and birthdays

i have to credit my friend rebecca with my recent beet inspiration. the first time i met her was a rainy january night in portland. she picked me up from the train station, transported me to her home and served me a delicious meal of borscht. little did i know that this meal, less than a year ago, would be only the beginning of a wonderful friendship. i have just returned from my second trip to visit portland since that wet january night. on all occasions, i have been hosted by rebecca and her partner, brian.

it really is strange how friendships begin. i find that geographic location of one's home often has little to do with who i befriend. lately, i have been finding that the majority of people i would call friends live at least 200 miles from judy branch, if not 2,000. given that judy branch is located in a somewhat remote, out of the way place, i suppose it makes sense that a young person such as me would be inclined to travel frequently in order to have a semblance of a social life! since my first trip out to portland, i have really enjoyed my new "left coast" friendships. the houseguests of september included rebecca's partner, brian, who is ultimately responsible for my orientation into this circle of northwestern friendships. together with brian's brother, eric, brian and rebecca run a really great independent print shop called stumptown printers. i think all three are some of the most amazing people i've ever met. last summer, eric gave me a tour of socialist finnish astoria, showing me a place i already really loved in an entirely new light.

i embarked on this most recent westbound trip entirely burnt out and sleep deprived, having slept an average of 3 hours a night for the two weeks leading up to my flight to portland. i journeyed nortwest on halloween, which was actually quite a treat. among all the travelers, many dressed in business attire, i would spot the odd costumed folks. one suit walked by while i was enjoying a layover coffee, and i was delighted to doubletake at the cat's tail hanging out from behind his suit jacket and see a cat nose/whiskers on his face and a red & white top hat adourning his head. i wish people would randomly wear costumes all year round. it sure does break up the monotony!

i arrived in portland to grab a lunch with brian and then meet up with my friend taylor, who is a displaced southerner. we cooked up a big old southern meal, using some andouille that my cajun visitors had gifted me the week before. fried okra, collard greens along with a flavor of the real northwest: alaskan halibut that taylor and his bandmates had caught themselves. taylor is one of my september houseguests (brian's bandmates) that i've really enjoyed getting to know. we followed our delicious meal with 1960s itallian horror films. perfect halloween. throughout the week, tay provided great tours of subversive bookstores and the best used record shops. he also tried to turn me on to drinking manhattans. but i'm just not grown up enough for that!

sister tiffany and her lovely partner larry took a train down to portland to help me celebrate my big 30th birthday last saturday. we all gathered for an impressive meal (b/c it was so damn good AND so damn cheap) at a small restaurant call the farm. after i got done screening the films (the job that got me out there in the first place), we commenced to real celebrations at one of my favorite bars in portland: beulahland. i was really surprised at how many folks (new acquaintances, new friends, etc.) joined us.

all in all it was a great trip, providing little catch up on sleep, r&r. i've been home a little over 24 hours, and now i must get back to packing for the next trip (all work, perhaps some play?) to cedar rapids, iowa. i fly out tomorrow, which means i have to hit the road by 6am. i'm looking forward to checking out the chzech museum and village of cedar rapids in my spare time, if there is any... and sleep, if that is also an option.

Time Warp

Nothing makes me feel more alive than sharing music with friends and neighbors, and making new friends as it happens. Having the Powell/Balfa family here for a week brought together the two most prominent cultural influences in my life: mountain south and gulf south. Accordian, fiddle, driving guitar and Cajun French vocals continue to echo in the air around me, interspersed with reeling old time banjo and fiddle tunes. The sounds were plentiful and intoxicating, and I spent most of the week in a state of audial and culinary bliss.

My favorite moments were cooking gumbo in my kitchen and sharing our day's work with my neighbors and friends in the dance hall that Bill and Billy Joe have next door. After spending a few days with Christine and her cousin Courtney Granger, I could hear my accent slip into the way I sometimes speak with my mom and her kin (all from southern Mississippi). I've spent a big part of my life trying to reconcile my hillbilly upbringing with my deep Mississippi family roots. This week, it was as if those two worlds merged into one savory gumbo, nourishing my soul and filling me with a deep love for the people and cultures that have shaped my little world.

We ended the week with a Masquerade Ball last night that I cannot yet attempt to describe. Perhaps in a few days or weeks I'll be able to put it into words, but for now, I have to let it soak in. It seems like a dream, and I am still trying to wake up. I'm sure this feeling is due, in part, to my minimalistic sleep schedule the past few days.

Today I drove to Lexington so Courtney could catch his flight back to Louisiana and I could be interviewed for a position in a group exchange to Poland, Belaruse and the Ukraine. Our forgetfulness about time jumping back an hour (Daylight Savings) allowed us to caravan with dear friends Rayna & Jeff and enjoy a delectable Vietamese meal before parting ways. I think the interview went well, but my judgement may be skewed by a serious lack of sleep... Before I can sleep I must tackle the task of packing for next week's travels to the great Northwest.

Let the Good Times Roll!

My entire weekend (Friday night, all day Saturday and Sunday) was Home Craft Days. Although it completely exhausted me, I felt more useful this year than I have the past three. I finally feel confident setting mics for all kinds of musical lineups, and I even got to run the board while sound wizard Doug performed with Lee Sexton. Another wonderful part of my life right now, Lee! He'd been bragging on me to everyone and telling folks that he aims to make a banjo player out of me and that I've really got the knack for it.

The weather turned quite cold yesterday and even colder today with snow flurries harking the arrival of Dirk Powell, Christine Balfa and their two beautiful daughters. Their residency begins tomorrow morning with an 8am school performance. I've almost got everything cleared off my to-do list so that I can focus on being producer and hostess extrodinaire. I finished the final rough draft of my fellowship application and hope to brush it up and get it out the door sometime tomorrow. I'll have to leave house cleaning and finishing up the masks to late nights. You can see the masks we've made so far at the mask gallery. As more musicians arrive from Louisiana and North Carolina later in the week, things are bound to get crazy. I wonder when I'll have time to pack for Portland?

No matter. Everything is falling into place, and I am fully in GO mode, filled with anticipation of the enormous amount of fun, music and dance this week will bring. I just hope my anticipation doesn't keep me from a good night sleep. I'll need all the sleep I can get so I can make the most of the next couple of weeks!

in love with nobody...in particular

have you ever felt that sensation of being in love, but not have it really be aimed toward any certain person? there's a line in a replacements song that speaks to that feeling, and sometimes that feeling just hits me. a swooning lovey-dovey romantic kind of purring inside. a love that is disconnected from any individual person and not really focused on any sort of relationship with anyone. usually it is triggered by certain music, the hint of crispness of autumn air, tinted leaf covered hills highlighted by setting sun. the feeling sweeps through me, replacing the day's troubles and and i feel like floating around the dance floor (a.k.a. my kitchen) with an invisible dance partner. sometimes i do just that.

i've been listening to balfa toujours this evening while i try to tidy the house and prepare for the whirlwind of the next couple of weeks. next week balfa toujours will actually be here to spend a week. but first i need to finish up some work on the music of coal cd project i've been helping out with, write the essay for my fellowship application. All this needs to happen in the next 24 hours so i can throw myself into three solid days of music at the 35th annual home craft days festival. home craft days is, by far, one of my favorite events of the year, and i always clear my calendar so i can volunteer to help with the stage. my job the first year was to sit backstage with janette carter and help her get her finger picks on before she went on stage. any volunteer gig that allows me to befriend one of my Appalachian goddess-heros is all right by me!

lee boy and i have made plans for my next banjo workshop to happen on sunday at the festival, which means that i won't have to miss out on my learning while i'm working the festival.

once home craft days is over, my life will get enormously crazy with dirk powell and balfa toujours coming to town for a week-long residency! cajun and old time music all week long, culminating in a masquerade ball. i can't wait! i won't quit when it's over, because next is a flight to portland to see my recent house guests/foghorn friends for about a week. following that trip is a meeting in cedar rapids, iowa and then it's about thanksgiving time, when i'll go down to south mississippi to spend time with some relatives i've not seen in hundreds of moons. i just hope it all goes by at a pace that allows me to soak in the good parts and savor those few quiet evenings on judy branch.

Good Riddance!

I am looking forward to the day that I can wash my hands of my current work place, which tends to be toxic and juvenile when dealing with certain co-workers. It's like being in high school all over again, and I hated high school.

On a more positive note, my first banjo lesson with Lee went really well. I picked up three new tunes that I am practicing up before I go to see him later this week. Raincrow Breakdown, Prettly Little Miss and Tennessee Breakdown. All in G with lots of dropthumbing.

Tonight I took a break from practicing Lee's tunes and worked on playing rhythm on some Carter Family tunes with Rich. The waltz rhythm is catching me up, because I have to change from the usual bump-ditty to bump-ditty-ditty. Tricky.

As for tonight, I'm looking forward to a hot bath and some down time enjoying the comforts of electricity. Our power was out for almost 24 hours yesterday, and as nice as it was to read by latern, I'm going to enjoy running water (the well pump needs electricity, you see) and reading by my electric bedside light tonight!

Taking the Time

My mother recently commented that I am an old soul. It's not the first time I've heard that. From the time a was a toddler, I idolized my great grandmother, begged to spend summers working in the garden with my grandpa and hung out with my older brother's friends. People used to tease that I was the eldest sibling, even though my brother was three years older.

There's something about people who have lived for a long time that makes me want to stop time and just soak in their reflections on it all. I also love to see the spark of youth in their eyes. They have an aura of youthfulness and appreciation for every moment. They don't take life, or people, for granted. I am drawn to people with these characteristics, which makes for an interesting demographic of friends.

In my work, I have been an organizer, a facilitator and an enabler. I have encouraged younger folks to take the time to learn from their elders and for elders to open themselves up to the world of youngsters. Most of this has been through storytelling and music. Now that I am at the threshold, pausing in the doorway before I depart, I am finding that I never gave myself much time to sit at the feet of these elders I have cherished. I have come to know them as friends and spent many hours just talking, listening and bringing people to hear their stories and songs. I have brought them students and sat beside them while they shared their treasures. Often, I was behind a camera, capturing it all. Looking back, I realize how much I have given to those I brought to the feet of the elders. And how I never even thought to step forward and give myself the time to become one of their students.

That is now about to change. Two nights ago, one of my favorite elders, Lee Sexton, told me that he has set his mind on learning me the old timey drop-thumb banjo tunes that he used to play. Now this is a big deal, because Lee Boy has not been playing his drop-thumb for a couple of years now, due to a nasty run-in between his thumb and a raccoon. But he's determined he's going to show me those old tunes, and I'm determined I'm going to learn them. I must admit, I'm a bit dumb-founded that one of the greatest banjo players I know is seeking me out for a student and re-learning what must now be a painful style so that he can teach me.

I feel I am coming to a new phase in my life. I'm going to put my caretaking hat on the hook for awhile and focus on uncovering opportunities for myself. And I'm going to start by going over to Lee Boy's house tomorrow for my first banjo lesson!

the gashlycrumb ladybugs

every year about this time, when the lady bugs sense the first frost is on the way, they start trailing into my house. much like i'd imagine the wagon trains headed west. all the family members, friends, neighbors, strangers, and perhaps even the enemies eventually end up inside. and they mean to stay... at least until they die or spring rolls around.

they linger on the ceiling, in the windowsills, on the walls and take strolls across any surface they choose.

most of them die. some get batted down and swallowed by cats. some fry themselves on light bulbs. others drown in a night stand water glass. then there are those that get squashed by paw, foot. or worse: steamrolled by cat, dog or person turning in their sleep. there are those who die the long slow death, their tradmark red polka-dotted shells turning to dull rust and finally a yellowish brown.

lady bugs don't taste good when you swallow one late at night in your water glass. even if you manage to get the sucker out before you take a sip, the water still tastes sour.

edward gory should have done a book about how all the tinny lady bugs come inside our houses to die in our company.

selfish, selfless?

i've been thinking a lot lately about how it has become the cultural norm to be selfish. at least to a degree. personal happiness and well-being are what we are supposed to seek above all else. what troubles me about this way of thinking is that it isolates us all from each other. what's good for you may not be what's best for the people you love, your neighbors, your whole community. hell, look at the bush family. they are doing quite well for themselves... at the expense of millions, billions of other people. they sure do seem to be enjoying themselves, though.

when i think about the sacrifices that my parents and grandparents made so that i could have a good life... well, it just doesn't add up that every choice i make should be about what makes ME happy. sometimes you've got to put others well-being ahead of your own. how do you know when to make sacrifices and when to step up and demand something for yourself?

i think that for most of my life, i have been an enabler. i like to help and encourage other people to find their happiness. but i often don't take care of my own needs. i'm not really sure that i know how. i love connecting people with each other, growing to love a certain few... but i hate the potential i hold within myself to hurt the people in my life. it terrifies me.

i wonder if happiness is really something a person can seek? shouldn't it just happen?

choices

My last blog entry got a few people worried. I appreciate the concern, of course. And I'm sure I'll not always feel like a squished bug. I am wary of going into the exact reasons why I feel splattered. I try to focus this blog to issues and events concerning Judy Branch. I've been squashed by a combination of stresses from work and a frighteningly hopeless romantic life. And that's about all I'll say here.

I am also heartbroke at the very real possibility that I will soon have to make the choice to leave Judy Branch.

There's a few possibilities in the air that will enable me to leave my current workplace (and source of much of my misery) but still remain on Judy Branch... at least for a few more months. It's a fellowship that would last three months. If I get it, I'll tell more. For now, I'll avoid jinxing my chances!

splat

so it's happened. life cannot really be compartmentalized. judy branch is a haven, my exile from the stresses and trials of work and the big ugly world. but that world, at some point, is bound to bear down on me. and it is right now.

i feel like a squished bug.

Escape!

I hit the road on Tuesday and headed up to North Carolina with my friend Rich. We were on a mission to go and visit with Onllwyn Male Voice Choir, a miners choir from the valleys of Southern Wales. We had both been to Wales at different times (Rich in the mid 70s and me in 2001), and I had actually spent quite a bit of time with these men when I was doing graduate research in Ystradgynlais (that's in Wales). On the ride over we marveled at how, distance wise, our homes (in Southeast Kentucky and Southwest Virginia) are quite close to the high country of Western North Carolina, yet so much changes on that short drive. You especially seem to notice it once you hit Abingdon and head over the mountain toward Mountain City and Trade, TN and into Ashe and Watauga Counties of NC. A lot of the differences hail back to industry. Coal versus tourism economies. But the geography is also notably different. I'm not sure that these are differences a non-mountaineer would recognize. To an outsider, we may all be lumped together, and I'm sure that we often are. But for me, a girl who grew up and lived most her life in the Blue Ridge of Eastern TN and Western NC, I am disturbed at how I now approach the Blue Ridge as a place less "real" than the landscape I presently inhabit. I wonder if I will ever be able to go back to these other places that I have loved and lived?

As for the choir, it was a short, but worthwhile road trip in which we were blown away by the voices of forty-seven Welsh men and later enjoyed their company over beverages at the bar (drinking in public once again!).

I took a detour on the route home to spend a day and a night at my Faerie Godmother's farm. For over three years I have gone on imaginary trips to her magical home place near Snowflake, Virginia. I am so glad I finally got there in person, because we had ourselves a real fine time. First playing with her new puppies, then making plans for an art project (creating masks for an upcoming masquerade ball). We even embarked on an outing to the big city (Kingsport) to hunt down supplies and scavenge for junk. First item we picked up was an abandoned mannequin for $2! She's perfect, except for the missing fingers and that dog Bella is terrified of her. We hit a goldmine at a thrift store downtown where I found my masquerade dress. The rest of the evening and following morn were spent surrounded by all sorts of feathers, beads, paints coffee, tea, wine and supplies, creating masks and getting high on each others company. I'm looking forward to a repeat tomorrow night when Ms. Faerie Godmother is going to come spend the night on Judy Branch.

1779

Yesterday I was stirred out of Judy Branch by a call from a friend. He needed to get out of his house and get out of town. We drove down into Virginia, about an hour and half southeast, to Abingdon. I had been through Abingdon several times, but I had never really explored. We walked the streets of the old town in an intermittent drizzle, reveling at the well preserved brick structures, reading the historic markers and enjoying the experience of walking through a downtown where it seemed quite normal for people to do such a thing. I think we both had been feeling a bit of burnout for the town where we work (and he lives). The streets are lined with facades of empty and abandoned buildings. On weekends, there's no life in the town center at all. How nice it was to go just a little ways off and find a town that was alive!

Besides just walking, we also took advantage of opportunities Abingdon offered that our Kentucky hamlets could not. We had a sit down meal at a local pizza place where we were served a vegetarian pizza and two very tall draft beers. Not just any beer. Microbrew from North Carolina! Then we did something most folks who have lived where we do fantasize about doing every weekend. We went to see a movie in a movie theater. Not just any movie, but a somewhat independent film, "Little Miss Sunshine." We capped off our excursion by stopping into Abingdon's oldest bar, The Tavern. It was built in 1779, originally serving as a stagecoach inn and tavern and in its long life serving as a civil war hospital, a house and an assortment of taverns/inns. We once again experienced the novelty of being served a beer in public. And not just any beer. German beer on tap!

the whole beet

i have been blessed with beets this summer, and it looks like this blessing will last into the fall. there are countless reasons to become enamoured with this vegetable. from the wonderful color that seeps out from severed root and stains your skin, to the wine colored veins of the leaves. then there's the indistinguishable flavors of the root, both earthy and sweet at the same time. and the surprisingly spicy undertones of the leaves... every way i have prepared them, from the complicated construction of perestroika to simply boiling the root and stir frying or steaming the greens, they have been utterly delectable. but the other night i prepared beets in a way that has topped all others (excluding borscht). rather than separating the root from the leaf, i tried cooking the entire plant. this works great if you have a handful of small beets. here's what you do:

wash well and remove any inedible parts, leaving them whole and keeping the skin and the leaves. using a heavy pan with a lid that fits securely, heat a couple tablespoons oil, juice from one lemon, some chopped onion, dash dill, dash tarragon, a little bit of garlic (a small clove chopped fine) and some salt. add whole beets and steam over medium heat with lid closed tightly. check after 5minutes, adding a little water if necessary to prevent burning. steam until tender (about 10-15 minutes depending on how many beets). hint: don't be tempted to peel the skin after cooking! trust me, it's edible, tastes good, and the only thing you'll achieve is dying the skin under your fingernails bright pink!

i ate these with homemade garlic mashed potatos, garden peas, kale stir fried in garlic & onion & braggs liquid aminos (you can also use tamari) and broccoli that was stir fried in a sesame orange sauce. it was a great combination of flavors, transforming my garden goods into gourmet fare. while each dish was tasty, the most simply prepared, the beets, left the most notable impression on my palette.

i got the idea from one of my favorite cookboks: Laurel's Kitchen. if the cool, rainy weather sticks around this weekend, i believe i'll try her recipe for whole beet borscht. sounds like a certain success!

Band of Brothers

With my company safely departed, Judy Branch seems quiet these days. Not silence, but the kind of quiet that allows frogs, crickets and distant trains to dominate the night air. The sort of quiet where you can actually hear the percussive beating of a moth's wings or an insect leap onto a broad, damp leaf. If you cut out the intermittent conversations between the Judy Branch pack and neighboring dogs, this place provides the perfect soundtrack for dreaming, reflection, and just being part of the quiet. Sometimes I sit inside and listen from my kitchen table, rocking chair or couch. Other times I contribute the creak of a porch swing, the brush-thumb of a banjo, or, like now, the muted click of a keyboard.

Tonight, I am soaking in the quiet after a turbulent day of withdrawal. For the past few days I have been 100% engaged in living life. I have opened myself to the hearts and minds of people I have come to deeply love, and I have basked in their friendship and affection. I have given myself completely to music and danced for hours without abandon on streets. These days spent in good company of the band (aforementioned house guests) provided me with an essential escape from the poisonous politics of my workplace. In hindsight, I realize that those crazy guys, who now feel like brothers to me, not only gifted me an escape, but reminded me how people should interact with each other every day they are alive. Traveling on the road together as much as they do, you would expect some seriously dysfunctional behavior. Yet they really seem to know how to treat each other and the people that they meet. The times they are stuck together are not only tolerable, but really good. Now that I am out of their fold, I am facing some of the nastiest forms of human interaction and manipulation by day. Even so, my doubt in the goodness of the human spirit is not so intense as it was before. Tonight I am soothed by the symphony on Judy Branch and the recent memories of fine times with friends.

I just wish that Judy Branch dogs Bingo, Monkey, Lucy, Sally and Frankie Mophead would stop it with the solo breaks already!