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Spring! Next Song | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Spring has gotten into the creek It runs higher today even than twenty-four hours ago Tumbling noisily over rock in the old mill falls downhill downhill rushing madly as if it might never reach its destination Tumbling tumbling ever downhill Oh Creek what is your hurry? And where do you go that you rush so? Downhill downhill ever downhill Oh, nevermind, Creek tumble on for spring has gotten into the melting snow and into the air And spring has somehow even gotten into my step And I can do nothing today but grin. Ashfield, MA March 16, 2000 ©2001 Lui Collins Red Red Robin Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Harry Woods ©1926 Callicoon Music I learned this song from my Mom, who learned it from the radio when she was three years old. My grandmother used to tell stories of her bopping around the house singing it. Even as I was growing up, my Mom sang constantly around the house; this song is the one I most identify with her. Lui: vocal, guitar; Anand: bass, mandolin, harmony vocals; Dana: banjo; Rani: fiddle; Scott: Drumship Enterprise (see www.raniarbo.com for full explanation) When the red red robin comes bob bob bobbin’ along, along There’ll be no more sobbin’ when he keeps throbbin’ that old sweet song Wake up, wake up you sleepyhead, get up, get up, get out of bed Cheer up, cheer up, the sun is red, live, love, laugh and be happy What if I’ve been blue, now I’m walking through fields of flowers Rain may glisten but still I’ll listen for hours and hours I’m just a kid again, doin’ what I did again, singin’ this song When the red red robin comes bob bob bobbin’ along. Guitar in standard tuning capoed on the 3rd fret The Creek Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins The creek has spread herself wide and she’s singing her way on down to the falls pouring over and around rocks filling and overflowing her bed trumpeting a spring that comes way late - barely any snow all winter gave nothing to melt so she’s been running low for months till lately, finally, the rains came slow at first but gradually building up till today all day it went between rain drizzle and downpour and later on pounding windslanted hail. so when the sun broke through toward evening I had to go see what the creek had gotten herself up to and there she was ripping and roaring under the bridge wide and raucous and joyful and I had to run on down to the falls and there she was again throwing herself without mercy over the boulders splashing and careening and oh spring thank God you are finally here! May 14, 2002 Ashfield, MA Susquehanna Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Written on its banks, just off the Southern Tier Expressway in western New York State. Lui: banjo; Anand: bass, guitar, mandolin; Larry: banjo --------------------------------------------------- banjo is tuned to Double C tuning: gCGCD and capoed (main four strings only) on the 3rd fret so the notes are gEbBbEbF Making Pies Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Patty Griffin Lui: vocal, guitar; Anand: bass, banjo, electric guitar, harmony vocals; Scott: brush kit It’s not far, I can walk down the block to Table Talk close my eyes, make the pies all day Plastic cap on my hair, I used to mind, now I don’t care I used to mind, now I don’t care ‘cause I’m grey Did I show you this picture of my nephew taken at his big birthday surprise At my sister’s house last Sunday, this is Monday and I’m making pies I’m making pies, making pies Thursday nights I go and type, down the church for Father Mike It gets me out, and he ain’t hard to like at all Jesus stares at me in my chair with his big blue eyes and his honey brown hair He’s looking at me from way up there on the wall Did I show you this picture of my sweetheart taken of us before the war Of the Greek and his Italian girl one Sunday at the shore We tied our ribbons to the fire escape they were taken by the birds Who flew home to the country as the bombs rained on the world. Five a. m., here I am, walking the block to Table Talk You could cry, or die, or just make pies all day. I’m making pies. Making pies. I’m making pies. Making pies. Patty Griffin ©2002 Almo Music Corp/ASCAP ----------------------------------------------- Guitar is in standard tuning capoed on 5th fret Precipice Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Standing on this precipice again and yet again I check - recheck - the balance of these new attachments to my scapulae When he first urged me to try them on the doubts and fears reverberating through my mind should I not have said “No. “No - I’ll stay behind - you go on ahead without me.” Far better to suffocate in this fusty prison isolated on this isle than to die a jagged death dashed on the rocks below. What made me trust him? set aside my doubts set my hopes upon my shoulders where I feel their featherweight yet balanced as I delay the moment of departure? He spoke of the passing to safety of the freedom of flight the rising up in the pockets the glory of drifting on the wind the riffling of the feathers the warmth of sun upon brow And I was seduced by his words drawn in to imagine that I might be lifted by the currents to cross the waters to new ground drawn in to believe that I might have the strength to survive the journey the stamina to endure the travails the courage to conquer my fears. And even now as I quiver on the verge the thought thrusts itself into my mind I will bleat “NO” “No - leave me here I cannot trust the nothingness!” And holding that thought tightly for but a moment I leap - into the abyss. Sequel to the Precipice: Well, I leapt, but I did not fly Well, I leapt, but I did not fly nor was I dashed to pieces on the rocks below In fact, I held my own for a good few yards before - I lost my courage and my strength Drifting low I caught a wingtip on a sudden swell It spun me head over heels wings flapping hysterically before finally I plunged into the waters And here I roil and churn run before the tide And though my feathers are sodden and my hopes are dim I am still alive And whether I will drown or whether I will be saved it is not yet mine to know but of one thing I am most resolved I shall not easily succumb And although it was not my first intent it is nonetheless a more familiar medium and I shall swim with all my might. September 13, 1996 and October 11, 1996 ©1996 Lui Collins Step Into the Water Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Lui: vocal, guitar; Anand: bass, guitar, mandolin, harmony vocal; Keith: harmony vocal; Rose: accordion; Scott: cajon Step into the water, feel the current swirling 'round Step into the water, feel the power nearly pull me down Step into the water, feel the river running strong Let the waters bring me home where I belong. Seated on this cushion of moss 'neath a rhododendron tree Tucked beneath her branches in a womb of reverie The creek flows fast and muddy, and the bed is rocky and wild But the water calls me in, "Come and join me for awhile." Step into the water, feel the current swirling 'round Step into the water, feel the power nearly pull me down Step into the water, feel the river running strong Let the waters bring me home where I belong. One foot then the other, it's a tentative approach With both feet on the bottom I think I can hold my own But as I lift a foot to step ahead the force grabs onto me Still I'm drawn to the deep of the middle, where the current's flowing free. Step into the water, feel the current swirling 'round Step into the water, feel the power nearly pull me down Step into the water, feel the river running strong Let the waters bring me home where I belong. And standing in this deepest place, my life is under siege I gather strength to ground myself and open to receive There is a power in the waters, and I can take it in There's a wisdom in the Universe carried on the wind. Step into the water, feel the current swirling 'round Step into the water, feel the power nearly pull me down Step into the water, feel the river running strong Let the waters bring me home where I belong. And later in a northern pond, the voice again I hear A summons to immerse myself and swim out past my fear My body glides in fluid grace, a mermaid in this inland sea I swim back over years and years as I move with strength and ease. ©1992 Molly Gamblin Music --------------------------------------------- Guitar tuned to open G: DGDGBD and capoed on 3rd fret Astilbe Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins With apologies to any horticulturists, who will have immediately recognized that the plant described is not astilbe at all – it’s actually a type of kalanchoe. I claim poetic license on this one, as I didn’t find that out till after the poem was written. I kept the original for the sheer pleasure of the sound of the word. On my father’s invitation I went home despite fears of awkwardness chose reconciliation I sat with him as evening deepened spinning fragile words into the air hoping against hope to span the distance grown between us Later, on the bedside table: astilbe. Tiny bright red blossoms, shining green leaves roots descending into a Mason jar. I would not have known their name but for my mother’s morning query did I enjoy the flowers in my room? “Your father insisted there must be flowers.” A long ago conversation springs to mind my father’s tears and the corsage he brought me later “to my beautiful daughter” Like a blackboard eraser rubbing away all trace of ancient chalk in an abandoned schoolroom Grace again wipes clean the slate I have come home to bright midwinter promise in a Mason jar of flowers at my bedside. Astilbe. February 11, 2002 and June 20, 2004 Fathers’ Day Blood Red the Stain Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Images from the movie The Red Violin haunted me for weeks, inspiring the writing of this song, a re-telling of the making of the violin. With thanks to François Girard, director of this compelling film, and to Bob Franke for the writing assignment. We were on tour together the weekend I sat in on his workshop; I fear I was poor company on the drive back from NYC to New Haven, immersed as I was in the writing. Lui: vocal, banjo; Anand: bass, resophonic guitar, mandolin; Rani: fiddle; Rose: accordion; Scott: tambourine, triangle, cajon, tom tom, brushes The wood must yield to the sharpest blade Blood red, blood red the stain To tap the music in the grain Carry the burden gently "Why do you come, my dearest dear?" "I knew that I would find you here "The crone has read my future, dear The cards foretell of death, I fear" "Oh no, my love, this cannot be For our healthy son, safe delivery "Come see what I have made for him My crowning glory, this violin "See the back, how true the grain The scroll that bears the jewel inlaid "One day our son will touch the strings The bow will cause its soul to sing" But her hand has drawn the card of fate The husband summoned comes too late He lifts her body tenderly Bears her over wet dark streets On the bench he lays her lifeless form His solemn work is not yet done He lifts the knife to one last task Some few dark drops be all he'll ask One ounce of blood stripped from a vein Stirred in a flask, the lacquer made One lock of tresses black he clips Brush into blood red lacquer dips With deliberate stroke he wields the brush That makes the wood with color blush So must flesh yield to sharpest blade To tap the music in the vein January 24, 2000 Lui Collins ©2000 Molly Gamblin Music/BMI ---------------------- Banjo tuning: gDACD Journey’s End Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Road weary, I make the last turn into the familiar dirt driveway and roll on down to the little house that stands at the edge of the woods. “I’m home!” I call to the silent rooms My favorite comfy chair awaits me by the woodstove I am tempted to plunk myself into it to snuggle in and be slow Not yet, I tell myself, time enough for that later. Instead, I carry in a few armloads of wood and stoke the fire I twist a scarf about my neck and summon up what energy I have left to greet the woods before serious dark will fall. The woods are still and dusk wraps itself around me as, unsettled and restless from the road, I descend into the twilight Each soft footfall on the trail’s thick blanket of leaves eases the flow of my breath At the lower stream I stop - listen to water tumbling over rock drink in the peace of home. I fill my lungs and feel the evergreen laden air permeating every cell I let my roots down into the sweet earth Dark is falling fast as finally I turn, let my feet lead me back up the path a smile playing on my lips my heartbeat easy in my breast sweet melody of home singing me up the hill. December 9, 2000 I-85 North Carolina Someone to Come Home To Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Lui: vocal, guitar; Anand: bass, electric guitar; Keith: piano Got a mailbox full of letters, daffodils brighten my lawn I saw bougainvillea bloom in California but my crocus came and went while I was gone Box of chocolates from some friends up in Georgetown welcomed me home today But the memory of the music just brought tears to my eyes now that they’re 3000 miles away. I want someone to come home to someone to wrap me in his arms someone to say how much he missed me how he’s glad I got home safe from harm Someone to lie down beside me and hold me the whole night through to laugh with and to cry with I want someone I can come home to. I wanted to sleep close beside you. I think you wanted that too But maybe that was too wild a risk to take for grownups like me and you So we kissed goodnight on the doorstep, you brushed away my tear Said, “wouldn’t it be sweet if we lived closer” - I guess I’ll see you next year. Still I want someone to come home to someone to wrap me in his arms someone to say how much he missed me how he’s glad I got home safe from harm To lie down beside me and hold me the whole night through to laugh with and to cry with I want someone I can come home to. Saw a friend in San Diego, we caught up on old times she came to hear me play that night with some yearning in her eye she’s got everything she’s dreamed of ‘cept the romance of the road there are nights I’d give most anything for the everyday life she knows I got angels to give me comfort when the day is done But sometimes my heart gets to longing for some one special one My California is always green and the poppies are ever in bloom life on the road has its wonderful moments and eventually I get to go home Where I can still see the prints of the paw of the bear who stood at my window last fall and the red-headed finch who’s perched on my feeder insists we can rise above all Still I want someone to come home to someone to wrap me in his arms someone to say how much he missed me how he’s glad I got home safe from harm To lie down beside me and hold me the whole night through I got angels to give me comfort When the day is done But sometimes my heart gets to longing For some one special one To lie down beside me And hold me the whole night through To laugh with and to cry with I want someone I can come home to I want someone I can come home to April 23, 2002 ©2002 Molly Gamblin Music/BMI ------------------------------------ Guitar tuning: CGDGAD Holiday Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Part 1. Appliances and other distractions Sometimes the panic of the emptiness roars so loud in my ears I could turn on the radio, the TV the vacuum cleaner the blender and the cuisinart, sit at my computer screen and play banjo and it would still not drown it out. I know the answer. It perches on my shoulder and laughs at me as I plunge into yet another diversion. Part 2. Grace comes when least expected. The shallow pond above the old dam is quite frozen over but the ice is not flat The path of the icy water shows clearly in swirls and humps and dips. Even where the water falls most steeply ice inches its way in from the edges And where the trunk that fell who knows how long ago lies wedged between the banks it is sheathed in ice and ice hangs in a sheet from it down to meet the rushing water still open at the center of the stream. I have given myself the gift of a holy day today. The forest is unmistakably holy in this moment as I stand in awe amidst its silence and slanty-sunned majesty. It occurs to me that the forest is unwaveringly holy and it is only I who walks blinded by the filters of my day to day semi-consciousness that I do not duly note the constant abundant wonder that is ever before my eyes. But today my eyes are open and my mind is still and my heart floods so full that I wonder that it can hold such abundance of gratitude and joy. I remember suddenly that this is the very day I dreaded, the first Christmas ever in my life that I would spend alone. There are days when I cannot meet my own eyes in the mirror. Today I have cast aside my dread walked straightaway into my fear and wrapped my loving arms around it. Now I stand, swaying almost imperceptibly roots thrust deep into the earth as my reward is showered down upon me rapture in full and glorious measure. Ashfield, MA December 24-25, 1999 Gone but Not Forgotten Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Written in and for the Oberlin Village Cemetery, a freed slave graveyard in Raleigh, North Carolina. Thanks to Bill Padgett for taking me there. See my website’s December 2000 Musings for the full story. Lui: vocal, banjo; Anand: bass, guitar, mandolin; Keith: harmony vocal: Rani: fiddle John Dunston rose before the dawn Gone to a brighter home He burned the kiln till past sundown Where grief cannot come Gone but not forgotten He slaved for his master half his span Gone to a brighter home The other half a freed man Where grief cannot come Gone but not forgotten Oberlin Village in brambled row Gone to a brighter home Is tended by four black crows Where grief cannot come Gone but not forgotten In a sunken grave John Dunston lies Gone to a brighter home As city traffic rumbles by Where grief cannot come Gone but not forgotten Soft shade of oak and maple tall Gone to a brighter home O’er shadowed by a towering wall Where grief cannot come Gone but not forgotten Where loyal hearts and true Stand ever in the light All rapture through and through In God’s most holy sight Gone but not forgotten December 6, 2000 Raleigh, North Carolina ---------------------------------- Banjo tuning mountain modal: gDGCD capoed 3rd fret (4 strings) w/ 5th string tuned to Bb Based on my visit to the Oberlin Village Cemetery, a freed slave graveyard in Raleigh, North Carolina. The following epitaphs are quoted in my song: “Gone to a brighter home where grief cannot come” from the gravestone of Jerry Hinton who died May 20, 1920, age 110 years “Where loyal hearts and true stand ever in the light all rapture through and through in God’s most holy sight” from the gravestone of Edward T. Hester who died February 26, 1929 “Gone but not forgotten” from the gravestones of Alonza Haywood, 1870-1958 and Ophelia Sheppard, October 6, 1905 - September 4, 1906 John Dunston, buried in the Oberlin Village Cemetery, died on November 20, 1894 at the age of 66. Not knowing his occupation, I placed Dunston in the song as a brickmaker, in honor of the many African-American brickmakers whose contributions to the architecture of the period can be seen throughout the Raleigh area. Please see my December 2000 Musings for more information about the cemetery and the writing of this song. Glance in a Mirror Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins You stood before the world climbed right up there on your soapbox said your piece made your mark and now you wonder that the eyes of the world are upon you? you feel them boring into the back of your skull as John Q said you made your bed but you are not lying only whining declining your part in its creation escape is at your toetips you could walk away anytime you choose and yet you remain - complaining blind to the demolition brought to pass by your own self-judgment reflected in every mirror you take for a window November 11, 2000 Where? Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Lui: vocal; Anand: shaker Frozen in the stillness of a bitter heart The words come hot and hateful, when they ever come at all. How long do I think I can hold on, till I come out the other side Of this tunnel through the mountain of my pain and of my pride? Chor. Where can I find my laughter? Where can I find my joy? Where can I find freedom from the sadness and the noise Inside my head? The refrain is pounding, so that nothing else is heard. Where can I find release from the self-judgmental word? Where can I find release from the self-judgmental word? "Not good enough." I hear those words a hundred times a day. They hold me in their bondage, shall I never get away? I learned them in my childhood, and I memorized them well, So that now in my adulthood they create my living hell. Chor. Where can I find my laughter? Where can I find my joy? Where can I find freedom from the sadness and the noise Inside my head? The refrain is pounding, so that nothing else is heard. Where can I find release from the self-judgmental word? Where can I find release from the self-judgmental word? My heart's full of compassion for the ones I see. I guess I give it all away, there's none left there for me. And if you think I judge myself more harshly than I should I grant you grace to use me as a mirror if you would. Chor. Where can I find my laughter? Where can I find my joy? Oh where can I find freedom from the sadness and the noise Inside my head? The refrain is pounding, so that nothing else is heard. Where can I find release from the self-judgmental word? Where can I find release? Where can I find release? Where can I find release from the self-judgmental word? Where? December 4, 1992 Bells of May Street Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins For the students at May Street Elementary School, Hood River, Oregon. Lui: banjo; Anand: bass, guitar, mandolin; Larry: banjo ---------------------------------- Banjo tuning: double D tuning: aDADE Shiny White-Toed Hightops Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins The woods are damp. The stream flows sluggish with fallen leaves. At the trail’s turning the smell of balsam hangs heavy in the chill air. Last night the clouds gathered in one corner of the sky backlit by a moon not nearly full but radiant nonetheless. In the morning when I arise frost coats the stubble of grass in the orchard below and to the west of the house. But the day ripens to a gloriously sunny push-your-sleeves-up afternoon. And even with the sun well along in its descent the weekend forecast of snow seems far away and cannot dim my lightness of being. I bound through the trees dodging branches and kicking up crisp leaves with my new black shiny-white-toed hightops. October 21, 1999, 6 pm. Ashfield, MA All the Pretty Birds Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Lui: vocal, banjo; Anand: bass, mandolin; Dana: guitar What I would wish to say to you be mindful with me please Don’t give me all those pretty words unless it’s what you mean I’ve seen enough of hard times to last me all my days Chance is you come a-courtin’ me I’ll send you on your way. Been listening out for car wheels all day upon my road Been watching for a gentle smile to ease my heavy load Been waiting for a tender kiss, a touch upon my hand But now the sun has set and left this darkness on the land And if you want a carefree life, don’t trifle with my heart I’m apt to cause you misery till we should come to part I’m apt to cause you misery, you’re bound to bring me pain The only lasting peace I’ve known to be alone again. And all of those pretty birds that light upon my sill They bring me gentle comfort, I guess they always will They sing their simple melodies that set my mind to rest It cheers my heart to see them all a-rosy on their breast. Summer 1999 Ashfield, MA ------------------------------------ Banjo tuning: double C tuning: gCGCD His Hometown Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Cheryl Wheeler Lui: vocal, guitar; Anand: bass, electric guitar, mandolin, slide guitar, harmony vocal; Rose: accordion. See Cheryl’s website www.cherylwheeler.com for background on the song and its subject. When he was a boy, sittin’ in school Starin’ out the window at the fields he knew All that he wanted was to be there too Drivin’ his tractor through the morning dew Dust from the sun, mud from the rain It felt like an honor to him all the same It’s the simplest thing, he’s a self taught man He loves his work because he loves the land And he can change the hill, plant the trees Dig the wells, spread the seeds Mow the fields, plow the streets In his home town The seasons roll by, year into year He’s worked all his life and he’s worked right here And the winters go slow if the snows don’t come But it’s soon to be summer when the tractors hum And he can change the hill, plant the trees Dig the wells, spread the seeds Mow the fields, plow the streets In his home town I’ve seen him do things I just can’t believe Makes gentle giants of those big machines He moves a boulder like a paper bag He moves a tree like it was all he had Blessed is the soul who has truly found Something to rest on while the world turns round I think he’d say this is how he feels When the dark earth is turning underneath his wheels And he can change the hill, plant the trees Dig the wells, spread the seeds Mow the fields, plow the streets In his home town -------------------------------------- Guitar tuning: CGDGAD capo 2nd fret I Wrest My Joy Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins I wrest my joy in brief moments from among the hours of life’s cruelty Like a quick breath in a dark and strident horn passage in a Strauss concerto Or the bobbing bright yellow head of a dandelion pushing its way through a crack in cold concrete So I wrest my joy where I may Yet just as the intermission between acts of a Greek tragedy is a respite of reality within the illusion And just as the silence exists before the brash music and continues after the last tones fade away So earth’s rich soil shall reign when concrete crumbles into rubble So joy both pre-exists and survives this illusion of human misery. November 10, 2000 Blessed Next Song | | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins Lui: vocal, guitar; Anand: bass, resophonic guitar, mandolin; Keith: harmony vocal; Rose: accordion You have given me the melody as it poured forth from my heart You have blessed me with the meter as it beat through my veins As I walk with You and listen, Your words come to me Oh blessed are we this day. Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah Oh blessed are we this day. Rain so gently falls to soak the earth, life bursts forth from the seed Roots go stretching down to draw their strength from the soil Upward grows the plant always reaching toward the hot, beating sun Oh blessed are we this day. Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah Oh blessed are we this day. You grace us with Your wisdom, love bursts forth from our hearts We plant our feet upon the earth to draw our strength Open wide our arms reaching toward the sky, we're flooded with light Oh blessed are we this day. May we walk within Your melody as it pours forth from our hearts May we step within the meter as it beats through our veins Open wide our ears and listening, hear Your words spoken clearly Blessed are we this day. Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah Oh blessed are we Oh blessed are we this day. August 4, 1988 Connecticut ---------------------------- Guitar tuned to Open G: DGDGBD and capoed on 3rd fret Hanging Up the Snowshoes | Top | | Solo Recordings | Lui Collins In the valley towns, crocus forsythia and daffodil confidently declare the arrival of spring. Not so up in these hills I love. My snowshoes still hang ready on the outside of the woodshed door. I have trudged into the woods every day this week through corn snow every day more rotten beneath my weight. Trudged on awkward webbing all the way down to the falls. Spring, maybe, in the valley, but here the going is slow as several feet of snow still linger in the cool half-shadows of winter-bare trees. Today is sunny and warm. The fierce wind that bangs the door of the sheep barn is fierce in volume only. The pile of winter's plowings - packed hard and icy against my yesterday's shovel - does not stand a chance against the warm air this wind drives relentlessly into its shrinking remains. It is early evening before I get out to the woods. I won't be fooled by the day's warmth. I grab my snowshoes from the nail as I step out my front door. The upper path down to the first creek crossing is open to the sun, the ground bare for days now. Just above the bridge I come to the deep snow, my boots suddenly sinking in above their tops. I smile to myself as I buckle on my snowshoes and continue down to the bridge - still a good foot of snow on it, but the creek has risen and its waters lap the upper edge of the planks. Not far across the bridge, the path itself becomes a creek. I unstrap and step out of the harnesses, wade in my Bean boots through water and mud and leafy debris. Woods in the throes of spring Are so like life - unpredictable complex and messy. I am grinning and wading and sloshing, ducking branches as I work my way deeper into the woods. Let me at these messy woods for Spring is surely here. Nothing can stop her now - nor me, I do declare. The sun is sinking lower. I head uphill. Snowshoes still in hand, I plunge into the drifted snow back across the bridge in blithe disregard of any snow-overflow into my boots. On up to the bare ground of the last hill and round the last trees into my dooryard. I reach for the empty nail to put my snowshoes where they have hung close at hand all the long winter - and then stop. Triumphantly, I lift the latch to the woodshed door step into the shadows and turn to the nail on the wall to my right. These snowshoes have served me well this long winter of unending snowfall, carried me faithfully into my beloved woods. I hang them ceremoniously. They deserve a good rest and I do believe Spring has arrived. Earth Day April 22, 2001 revised May 21, 2004 | Home | | Biography | | Recordings | | Children's Music | | Concerts | | Keep In Touch | |