IBMA 2009 (#1)

I'll be posting some of my thoughts and high points from last week's IBMA 2009 World of Bluegrass celebration held in Nashville, Tennessee.....need a little more rest first. Stay tuned for lots of words and photos, too.....

Enchanted Land

At last...back in Wales! For such a slow-paced, back-in-time kind of place time sure zooms on. I've been here for three weeks now but it seems like I've only just started to do what I intended. Knowing this is my last extended visit here I've taken to going back to some of my old favorite haunts and snapping a few photos so at least I can return to those great places in memory if no other way. So here are some of the places I've been visiting lately. I'll try to include some of my thoughts as I take you around these places. But somehow the photos seem to jump around alot and don't end up where they've been inserted. Anyway, I'll give it a try. This first photo is up in the hills of Radnorshire where I've been known to wander!

Of course time slips by for most of us and it has for me; now it's a week later and I haven't gotten very far with this entry - my first in over 5 months. There are a few folks who are actually interested in all these photos and things I have to say so I feel like I need to push through this and try to remember how to write again. If only those photos would stick where I paste them it would be a lot easier to write about a bunch of stuff, but bear with me! To the left (I hope) is a view of the Clywedog Reservoir which is situated up in some lovely hills near the pretty little market town of Llanidloes. Now I don't know what blogger is doing to these photos, but I assure you that the very prickly gorse in the foreground is a brilliant yellow; everything on here looks dark and dingy!

Since my most recent journey was up through mid-Wales and heading out toward northwest Wales I'll include a few photos of the trip I took on Sunday to the area around Llanidloes and the Clywedog Reservoir. It was quite a nice day with big puffy clouds in the sky, some sunshine, the gorse in bloom and ewes and lambs out there everywhere basking in the sun.

After driving all the way around the reservoir on a beautiful afternoon and kind of wishing I'd set out early in the morning and tried to WALK all the way around the reservoir I was just about to descend back into Llanidloes when up on a steep hillside above the reservoir I saw sheepdogs herding sheep. If you've never seen that, it is a real marvel. There were two men standing inside the fencing and a good place to pull over, so I did.

I thought the men were also just watching the proceedings, assuming there was some sheep farmer up there on that distant hillside with a quad bike (4 wheeler) directing those dogs to bring the sheep down for lambing or something. But no! I wasn't there a few seconds before one of those two men shouted commands and whistled (as they do at sheepdog trials) directing the dogs in steering the sheep to and fro like some amoeba slithering around on a glassy surface, they surged this way and then that. It was amazing. I stood quietly observing (and they didn't know I was there) and taking a few photos. Soon the sheep were off the hill and sort of flowed around the two men, engulfing them and then passing them at a full run, sheepdogs still guiding them at breakneck pace. The men then turned toward me and we began chatting. I learned that they compete in sheepdog trials and know two of the border farmers with whom I'm acquainted who also compete. It is a small world. This connection made them even friendlier and soon they were telling me all about it and about this breed of sheep - the ewes looked magnificent and were possessed of a very thick, rich coat of wool. This breed are Lleyns and are fairly uncommon. Not only that but they can run with the best of them.

Now keep in mind all this was taking place on a beautiful afternoon overlooking a breathtakingly beautiful view of the Clywedog Reservoir as the sun was making its way down behind the hills. It simply doesn't get any better than this and I found myself wondering why I hadn't discovered this spot long ago!

This last photo is of Meg, a wonderful sheepdog who performed like an Olympian and was totally chuffed (thrilled) by a pat on the head and a "well done" from her master, Glyn Williams.

More to follow.

Opening Day...Far Away

Today is opening day for the horses and hounds over in Wales. I missed it. Those of you who have never been to Wales and have never heard the sound of a pack of hounds (maybe 25-50 hounds) in full cry across the moorland will not be able to relate to the wrenching feeling I have today as I sit in the American midwest and contemplate cleaning windows (haha, but that's what I have slated for today; it's supposed to rid me of this feeling of emptiness).

Now to be fair to the midwest (this coming from a "mountain girl") it really does have its own beauty particularly, for me, at harvest time. But I'm pretty fond of harvest time wherever I am...it may be those ancestral strains ringing inside me...like most of you, the folks on my family tree lived off the land. Maybe they had it right.

But back to those hounds. My friends over at the Golden Valley Hunt not far from Hay-on-Wye, met today at Cabalva, a beautiful home on the River Wye. But as I sit here in the flat midwest on a beautiful street lined with nice old houses and huge sugar maples that are turning the most spectacular colors, all I can do is think of those horses and hounds and the many friends who spent the day out in the beautiful Welsh countryside....without me!!! I feel bereaved. I need to get back to Wales! Fantastic fall colors aside, I want to be out roaming the moors once again with the horses and hounds, the huntsman's horn cutting through the fog and rain, the old boys not unlike those you can see on PBS on "Last of the Summer Wine" leaning out of beat-up Land Rovers and Daihatsus searching the hills with binoculars, a little box of sandwiches on their laps, a pair of Wellies keeping their feet warm, moleskin trousers, a wool sweater, a tie securely around their necks, the smell of Old Spice and a wool flat cap on their heads.

See, the sport called fox hunting is about so much more than just the folks on horses...it's a way of life. With recent legislation that way of life has changed somewhat, but the same folks are still following the hounds and it's still done in much the same way....we followers don't have to watch someone as he or she sets out a little before the meet to lay the now required scent trail with a bag of anise or whatever dragged behind in an old tube sock so we can hunt within the law. For us it just seems much like it was before so we just pretend it's still proper hunting as it was back through the centuries and we go merrily along as the hounds set off and pick up that trail and a jolly good day's hunting ensues.

There are folks, dozens of them following every hunt, who don't have the means or the youth to follow on horseback as part of the mounted field. But many of those folks you see out there LIVE to follow the hunt. It is the highlight of their week. Many of those people are retired and many can no longer walk very well. What they can do, though, is thrill to the sounds of the hounds as they roar across a hillside; they can visit with friends they have known for many decades, they can see neighbors and enjoy the conversation that ensues whenever a group of people come together to do something they love. They'll relive the old days, a particular day's hunting that has reached legendary (and sometimes mythical) status, ones that grow with the telling so that the listener realizes that surely this hunt could never have happened...but who knows? These folks come together and breath the wonderful, fresh Welsh air, they share a sense of spirit and community, they share memories and create new ones, they share news and the joy of companionship (many of these folks I'm speaking of live alone so these hunts dispell that loneliness, if just for awhile).

So when I say I grieve to miss opening day, I think of those faces I've been missing, weathered like limestone tombstones in old churchyards. I miss the croaky voices and the missing teeth. I miss the shouts of friends and the hounds jumping up to lick my face. I miss trudging up a hillside to find the hunt has already passed by. I miss the spirit of chance and yes, I miss the anticipation of it all.

Most of all I miss my friends with the Golden Valley, the Radnor & West and the Teme Valley and hope they're out there today on the hills and moors having a wonderful time.

Yes, this is a pity party. I am mourning those hounds and missing my friends. I think I'll call the airline and get me a ticket to Wales. I need to hear me some hounds in full cry, now that I've voted. I do. I do.

Winding Down the Summer, Pickin' in the Pasture and Thomas Point Beach

MAINE IS THE PLACE TO BE ON LABOR DAY WEEKEND!!!

mmmmm....Maine...lobstah!!!

As the end of August draws near I find myself looking forward to the last days of summer with the advent of fall just around the bend. A few of my very favorite gatherings of bluegrass folks happen at this time every year and this season promises to be especially memorable. I am definitely in the mood for lobster - fresh off the boat - and plenty of it!

Though it doesn't look like I'll have a chance to go this year, one of the brightest spots on my festival season is always Pickin' in the Pasture ("PIP"), held on a working sheep farm in Lodi, NY.

The Alexanders make everyone welcome, and there's such a down-home feel, maybe because the stage is literally their back porch! Performers and staff are fed in the Alexanders' kitchen, and their living room is the "green room" where everyone tunes and works out their set list.

Walk around the relatively flat grounds, especially following the conclusion of the stage show each night, and you're bound to find some excellent, traditional bluegrass jam sessions and meet a bunch of friendly people. A couple years back some enterprising Amish folks set up a wonderful stand just spilling over with luscious vegetables and artery-clogging home-baked goods (I suppose if you eat both offerings you'll be okay). Last year the Amish were having a barn-building or school-building and had to forego the produce stand. But that was a high point of the festival the year they were there. Even if they're not set up,if you stand by the little road that brings you to the festival it won't be long till you'll see an Amish buggy or two going about their business in this rich agrarian area. Lodi is located in the Finger Lakes region of New York state, not far from Ithaca, and very close to Seneca Lake. Check it out!

The lineup at PIP is always superb, that is, if you like your bluegrass on the traditional end of the spectrum (and you know I do). It's going to be hard to give PIP a miss this year, but I have a good excuse...I'm headed to the 30th-- and final -- Thomas Point Beach bluegrass festival near Brunswick, Maine.
If you go to many festivals you probably have a favorite and I have to say that, all things considered, Thomas Point Beach is mine. So it's with a partially heavy heart that I head out there later this week to make some memories with friends, eat as much lobster as I can choke down (and that's a lot), maybe get to sail out to Cundy's Harbor for a lobster roll, pick a whole bunch with all my pals, and hear a whole lot of great music there by the white sandy beach of Thomas Point. Some of the featured performers are the Old Time Bluegrass Singers, White Mountain Bluegrass, Country Ham, the Tennessee Mafia Jugband (featuring Leroy Troy, one of my faves), Rhonda Vincent, the Gibson Brothers, Claire Lynch, Doyle Lawson, Marty Stuart, Ricky Skaggs, the Del McCoury Band, and the Grascals.

Perhaps you've heard me go on at length about how I love this festival and that festival and I mean every word I say. It's just that when I write down all the factors that make a festival GREAT, Thomas Point Beach always rises to the top. One big factor is that it is a full-service campground with all the things you'd expect at a top-notch campground. There's plenty of shade (not in the concert area, but a "Maine" tent is provided for those who want/need shade - it's located fairly far back from the stage) in the camping areas, lots of activities - and a great sandy beach for the kids (and the not-so-kids, too); lots and lots of jamming (this is the best jamming festival I've ever attended anywhere) - day and night -- and a very good lineup on stage.

One really wonderful thing Pati and her staff have got figured out is that you don't need 8 trillion bands onstage every day from 9 am until 3 am resulting in

tired festival-goers, being too tired to stay up to jam, and a grouchy sound crew. No, about 12 hours of music are offered per day - roughly from 10 or 11am until 10 or 11 pm. Plenty!

A delightful setting for a great event...this is the view from the door of my tent!

After the stage show stops some of the hired bands come out and jam with the folks - yep, bring along your instrument and play along if you like. Many folks do! Or you can just stand around, listen and grin. Suit yourself.

A bunch of my friends never even go to the stage. It's an annual friends' reunion, out there on the point not far from the beach. We start rolling in nearly a week before the festival even starts. It's fun to watch the campsite build from nothing to what feels like a big, friendly town. I don't camp in the middle of everyone, but prefer a quieter, shadier place out under the trees on the edge of the water. I'm still just a short walk from all the hubbub, but I need my quiet times.

(Not to be missed - the kids put their hearts into their main stage set every year.)

So most of the girls (women) in my gang sort of hang around and laugh and cook things and just have a good time while most of the guys scratch their um bellies and pick day and night. Pretty good stuff. Some of the young kids get interested in the music and sidle up and listen and pretty soon they're handed an instrument and given some instruction. This is where the passion begins to burn!

Well, most of you have been to bluegrass festivals before so I'm not telling you anything new. But if you've never been to a festival - or you want to attend the one that I rank #1 in the country, get yourself up to Thomas Point Beach in Brunswick, Maine for their very last hurrah this August 28-31 and tell 'em MaryE sent ya. You won't regret it - I promise.

See you at Thomas Point Beach (and hope you make it to Pickin' in the Pasture, too!)

Red Knuckles, Grey Fox

Well, we all have our favorites and I just have to come out with it: there's nothing I enjoy hearing more than Red Knuckles and the Trailblazers, start to finish. So you can imagine what a great time I had in July while enjoying the many sights and sounds of the Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival in upstate New York. Saturday night is the big night at most festivals, I suppose, and folks at Grey Fox this year had a few tough choices to make, but as much as I like some of the folks appearing on the main stage I knew that the dance tent was where I had to be for the spectacular, two-hour-long star-studded performance by Red Knuckles and the Trailblazers. They did a little new stuff, but mostly stuff I've been enjoying for at least the last 20 years. While most of my favorite musicians (and myself!) have seemed to age a lot these last few years, Red and the boys stay forever young. Perhaps it's all those chocolate doughnuts from Waldo's Discount Doughnuts. Watch out, Dunkin' Doughnuts - you just wait till the outfit from Wyoming Montana starts advertising in the northeast. They got chocolate and chocolate, you know, lots of things like that, chocolate. Speaking of which it was great to note that Waldo is still dealing with his metal block and it seems that his posture remains similar to that of the treble clef to add a touch of pizazz to the already zingy show.
While Red and the boys did a great show on the main stage earlier in the evening, I think they were holding back. Cousin Elmo made an appearance, this time sporting a beret (what was with that?) and Colonel Mel Sharpie's cigar was alot smaller than it used to be oh so many years ago. There was an appearance by a very strange white-coated rabbit, too, though I don't believe anyoneever said "Harvey," at least not in my earshot. We all felt like baked sweet potatoes this year at Grey Fox, boy was it hot! but a lot of folks still found the will to dance (and enjoy it), not the least of which was the ever-smiling Dancin' Dave and his beautiful bride. The new location seems like an excellent one and, understanding that the first time at any site will cook up a few problems, things went very well indeed, I think. Plenty of jamming, dancing, great food, good vendors, fantastic activities for kids and families...if you didn't have a good time, well, you probably don't have a good time anywhere.

A real treat for me was getting to hang out with my good friend Mary and talk shop with Darwin and a few other photographers; getting to camp next to Chris and Mark and Sarah and the gang from Nashville, visiting with the Kuykendalls and so many other friends from down through the Grey Fox years.

While Slade has gone on to play his own quirky brand of music elsewhere, a guy named Swade stepped in and was nearly as weird as Slade (bass players are always the weirdest guys in the band, right?)....like I already said, you just can't beat Red! But you're gonna have to get out and hear them in person because words just can't express....don't worry; they seem to do a gig every 10 years or so. But these guys on the right always manage to pull better gigs than Red. I think it's because Wendell's usually getting most of the "fringe" benefits.

Four Months in a Nutshell

Above: some of the winners at the recent New England Morgan Horse Show held in Massachusetts. It was a hot day but these horses and riders gave their all. Morgans are a wonderful, powerful, gentle breed (maybe I'll get to have one some day).

Well, I wasn't in a nutshell, exactly, but it has been almost four months since I last blogged. While it would be nice to offer a big excuse there isn't one really. Actually I've logged a few thousand miles since the big visit to the wild parts of Ireland but I just haven't sat myself down long enough to write. Maybe it's the photographer in me, but it seems like the pictures might do the talking better than I ever can, so over the next few days I'll try to catch my TWO fans up on what I've been a-doin'. Enjoy. I see this deer and a couple of others nearly every evening before dark.

At the moment I'm luxuriating in the cool environs of the Catskill Mountains with daytime temperatures in the low 70s or high 60s and nighttime temperatures in the low 50s/high 40s (for those of you who haven't been here, they're in New York state)(no, most of NY is NOT covered with tarmac - we actually have lots of trees and wild places and even a few farms are managing to survive though that gets more difficult by the day). Since I'm on the subject of the Catskills, I'll share a few photos I've made recently. Would you believe I was so chilly the other night I actually built a fire in the fireplace? Yep. Won't be doing it too often, though - I'm told the price of firewood around here has doubled to tripled since last season!

This is where I spend some of my time, some of my favorite time. Solace for the soul! Physical work. The pleasure of listening to the birds and bees (bee balm highly recommended. The discomfort of being stung twice by one who miraculously found its way into my shirt this morning as I did some much-needed pruning of all the pines that surround this place. Ouch!

Lucky me, I even got to see the snake that seems to like to hang about and make me a little, shall we say, jumpy....usually he's hanging out by the back door, but today he decided to go afield and hang out by all the big limbs I was gathering together to drag to the woods. He was right by the shuffleboard court and when I saw him I did anything but shuffle. He's really just a harmless little garter snake but that don't matter to me. I'm scared.

This house was once an inn and reputedly slept 28-30 people, though how many slept in the broom closet I don't know. The best part about it is definitely the front porch - I think it's about 60-70 feet long and about 10 feet wide; porches on both sides as well and a patio in the back. One of my favorite places in the world!

Below, a view from the front porch; this house was built in 1903 and this was once a carriage road leading right up to the front steps. This double row of stately sugar maples is a sight to see early in October. There are twinges of color already on the sugar maples in this area, not far from the Appalachian trail.

No proper Catskill house should be without its very own gazebo. Besides adding charm and character to the place it's a wonderful place to hang out with your guitar and maybe even a friend.
This barn would make a fine house, I think - and I've been thinking it would be a great place for a bluegrass festival - have the stage up there on the 2nd floor balcony and the crowd below. Whaddya think?

There used to be a lot more rooms in this house. In an effort to make it more open several walls on the first floor were removed. There are actually 3 fireplaces in this one spot - the third is on the back of the triangular area - and it has a nice cozy woodstove that takes the chill off on frosty fall mornings.
This is a new addition to the back of the house (there was a saggy, rotting sort of woodshed that we tore down a couple of years ago - this room always seems to be bright and cheery even on those rainy days that we've had quite a few of recently.

Now it's time for some sleep so I can think about some other things to write about - like getting to hear Red Knuckles and the Trailblazers at Grey Fox - then getting hit by a tractor-trailer piled full of logs on the way out of the festival. Life is good!

Colours (Ireland, Part 2)

Maybe it's because they have so much "soft" weather in Ireland (some folks call it rain) but one thing you'll notice almost anywhere you travel in Ireland is the colourful (or colorful for you Americans!) look of most storefronts and even many doors and windows on houses. While the favourite colour for the exterior walls of bungalows seems to be white (which may be said in America, too) travelling through Ireland put me in mind of an earlier time in my life....the colourful Bahamas. Well, the climate wasn't a match, but the colours were. Now did the Bahamians get the colour scheme from the Empire? Or did the Empire nick it from the Bahamians? I'll probably never know.

So, long story short, when in Ireland you'll be dazzled by the brilliant colours (set off by the often dreary weather). My sister and I were pretty fortunate during our seven days in the west and northwest of Ireland -- we had fairly good weather. Cool, windy, yes -- but not much wet weather, and a couple of days the sun was so warm that the cattle and sheep were lazing around with their legs thrown out as far as they could. They were plumb thrilled to be working on their tans. There's simply nothing like a happy cow.

'Course just like here in Wales there were lambs a-plenty (not as many as in Radnorshire, and though I never thought I'd be saying this -- our ground is a lot better than most of what I saw in Ireland, though admittedly I wasn't in the areas known for farming) and they were enjoying their youth (ignorance is bliss, most of them won't be around all that long) and it was nice to see some other breeds of sheep over in Ireland. They'd have to be pretty hardy and water-resistant! Most lambing in the areas we visited is done out in the wild, not in the relative comfort of a farm building, and those ewes have to be hardy! Lambs seem to have play cycles, and sis and I enjoyed the merriment of watching them spring straight up in the air and start spinning around and then running to play King of the Mountain on some little tump.

Oh yeah this was supposed to be about Ireland and colour, not lambs in springtime. Okay. While sis and I tried our darnedest to stay out of towns and cities we did spend about an hour in Galway (getting Euros and buying some food) which seemed like a nice city. We didn't stay. The other two towns we spent time in were Ennis (the last night) and Westport. Sadly we just didn't stay long enough in Westport, but it gets my vote as the nicest largish town I visited during the week -- plenty of good music at Matt Malloy's pub there on one of the main streets. Plenty of colour on all the storefronts, and a lot of people out enjoying themselves. We had a wonderful Italian meal at a little bistro just a few steps away from Matt Malloy's and the waiter did a wonderful job of chatting us up for a big tip!

While the brochures and tourist offices advertise "live traditional Irish music every night" what you'll find is that they probably mean during high tourist season (June through August); we did find a couple of small sessions, but nothing really astonishing (seems like every town we got to we heard, "you should have been here last night - we had a great session at the pub"). Our first night we spent in Doolin, County Clare, after passing a lovely sunny afternoon walking the streets of Ennistymon then visiting the Cliffs of Moher. Yep, it's a tourist trap (it costs 8 Euros to park your car!) but it's well worth it __on a nice day__ and the cliffs are spectacular. If I had it to do again I'd go there in the late afternoon when the sun is nicest...we arrived at high noon and made the best of it. Plenty of walking and beautiful seascapes to see and photograph.

One thing I've noticed in looking at my photos is how few people are in them. Usually I travel alone and tend to chat with a lot more people. In the company of my sister we tended to visit rather with each other!

Many folks warned me that it takes forever to travel in Ireland because the roads are so bad, but that really wasn't true. Apparently the EU has pumped a lot of money into Ireland's roads, at least that's what I'm told. At any rate, I found the roads better in most cases than those I travel in America (though there are a fair few maniacal drivers in Ireland, a little frightening coming around those blind bends on MY side of the road). Sis and I chose to take the back, back roads in many cases, or at least to avoid the "N" roads as much as possible (the biggest roads, at least one full lane each side plus even a shoulder sometimes). And it's true that I felt extra-safe because I was driving a brand new Toyota Rav4 (and I can't rave enough about how great a vehicle that is!)

And in case you're wondering this last photo is peat cut out and drying in the sun. I'm told it takes a couple of weeks of good weather (that may be a couple of years!!) to dry and then it is burned like wood or coal for heat. What were you thinking this was?????

Stay tuned for another epidsode...