Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Joy to the World, the Solstice Comes

So worn out, with no energy. All I cooked was a bowl of cherry Jell-O, an impulse I could not explain because I never eat it. I dragged myself outdoors and in the woods hacked invasive Japanese honeysuckle away from oaks and felt a bit better; it saves their lives. At 4:45 the sun set. I remembered the winter solstice was coming at 5:03 p.m. and wanted to be doing something special at that moment, like setting off bottle rockets. Or should I whip some cream for the Jell-O? Then, at 5:03 I hear what I've never heard before: singing. Caroling. "Joy to the World." Coming closer until it's right outside my door. I open the door and get the surprise of my life:

My neighbor Terri (top left), who is musical, had organized her children and grandchildren to come down the road and carol for me! I've never seen and heard anything so sweet!

Not only that, but they brought me a present and a bowl of grape/apple/nut/marshmallow salad--perfect with the Jell-O!

Monday, June 30, 2014

Backyard Music Festival


My neighbor down the road, an artist and a folk-music fan, heard a great singer-songwriter at a musicfest and they worked out a deal: Lodging at her place so he could tour the Midwest and in exchange, he'd do a private lawn concert. And so it was. Greg Klyma, native of Buffalo, NY, currently living in the Boston area, told me Boston has a great folk-music scene (after I expressed my doubts). He played guitar and mandolin during 50-minute sets including Hank Williams' "Hey Good Lookin'" and his own compositions and novelty numbers ("Creepy Dead Bug" and my favorite, "The Kale Store") -- and can he wail, and pick, and entertain! Neighbor's family and friends and my entourage of music lovers totaled about 25 people under canopies, under the stars, in chairs, listening to live music-- surely a first for The Divine Green Acres Estates -- and hearing the chorusing frogs just below the cliff. All was perfect except that Greg, not a Missourian, had to go back home, but not before he was fed Super Smokers barbecue. The balloons tied to the mailbox were to flag the turn; we have no street sign and like it that way. To my puzzlement, GPS and Google Maps have recently renamed our beloved and ratty Highway F "South First Street." South of what? First of what? One night in June it was first in fun. Farewell, month of June 2014. I loved every moment. And hire a singer-songwriter to perform on your patio.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

General Store, Powell, MO

"Twenty or thirty years ago" this general store in Powell, MO, closed. Along with it, at the center of town, is an abandoned Baptist church (no steeple) built of stone, and a DX station, its roadside sign now tangled in treetops. Another way to describe Powell is that the post office is open although no one works there, and there's a place that publishes gospel music and has since the composer of "I'll Fly Away," Mr. Albert E. Brumley, lived in Powell. He wrote the hymn in 1929, truly Divinely inspired, because it's been recorded by every gospel artist worth mentioning including Andy Griffith, Aretha Franklin, Crystal Gayle, Johnny Cash, and Kanye West. Brumley also wrote 600 other songs. Powell is in the far southwest corner of Missouri where there's not much but scenic Ozark beauty and farming. You'll have to drive 17 miles to buy a Snickers bar. I'll put up some more Powell pictures, but first, this fascinating and unique storefront sign made of horseshoes. That's Divine inspiration too.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Song of the Cicadas

The band you will shortly hear is called "The 13-Year Cicadas" and these cicadas singing their #1 hit will rock your world, make yo' liver quiver and yo' knees freeze! The video, taken on the Timberstone trail, lasts 35 seconds. Be there or be square. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2k-dRyQJCBw

Sunday, January 31, 2010

VFW: Entertainer with Squeezebox


Lunch today at the VFW, a benefit, featuring homemade Italian sausage, peppers and onions, and mostaccioli pasta -- & sprinkle on that Parmesan. Diners were serenaded by this concertina player. He isn't blind, he just wears shades. He told me the concertina was made in Louisiana by a Cajun, and for such a small instrument it had surprisingly deep sound. This guy sang, too: "Never on Sunday," and "That's Amore," and I had a wonderful lunch hour today. Yeah, I ate everything on the plate, plus I drank the beer.