Bluebird Time In The South

On an early Spring day in 1977 I was hiking one of the small ridges that sits astride the North and South Carolina line near Charlotte. Climbing out of one of the steep ravines and reaching the highest point on the trail, I was suddenly surrounded by thousands of bluebirds moving through the woods and brush. The show continued for twenty minutes as wave after chattering wave passed by. In the 36 years since that encounter, only two events compare with it: seeing nearly a dozen bald eagles relaxing in a tree next to a convenience store in Anchorage We were leaving for a tour and some of the folks wanted to stop for snacks before we left town. As we pulled into the parking lot, someone - obviously a lower 48 type - said, "Hey, are those bald eagles?" The driver said something like, "Yeah, happens all the time here." Amazing. The second event occurred over our patio in Atlanta when hundreds of sand hill cranes "kettled" before continuing on their way north to summer in the Great Plains and Canada.

Today the bluebirds returned to our woods in Atlanta. They have been here before, and in greater numbers, but even sighting a few of them is a sure sign of the coming summer. This year we have several small snags in the rear woods that will make excellent housing for any of those birds seeking to set up housekeeping. If we're lucky, they will be close to the patio where they will provide us with hours of entertainment in both song and behavior. Here's an observation I made in 2009 when a pair of bluebirds decided to inspect the housing potential in our woods:

This pair spent an hour scoping out apartments in a small dead tree trunk about 50 feet from my patio. First, the male would inspect the premises, then look inquiringly toward the female in a nearby branch. After a few minutes, he would fly to a neutral branch; she would inspect, then fly to her neutral branch. They would meet to discuss on yet another branch, then repeat the cycle. Again. And again. The setting sun made it hard to follow their house hunting and soon they disappeared over our ridge. Will the rising sun lead them to return and make a home in our tree?

 

I don't recall if the pair actually moved in. The snag they inspected fell a few years ago. Still plenty of apartments waiting for young families though.

Happy 78th Birthday, Emmylou Harris

 

In fifty years singer-songwriter Emmylou Harris has won fourteen Grammy Awards including a Lifetime Achievement Award in 2018. Along the way she's gained many honors including membership in the Grand Ole Opry, the Country Music Hall of Fame, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Her career first gained traction in small clubs and coffee houses in Washington and its suburbs. I was only a few miles from most of the venues but sadly never saw her perform. Still, it was impossible not to see and hear the advertising in and around Georgetown in DC and the Maryland suburbs of Bethesda, Chevy Chase and Silver Spring. By the early '70's she moved to Los Angeles to work with Gram Parsons and his band, The Grievous Angels. When Parsons died in 1973 the devastating event led her to focus on Parsons's search for the fusion sound he called "cosmic American music." The sound Harris and Parsons produced in their short time together, in addition to her life-long dance with experimental sounds in folk, blues and country music, would have a significant impact on decades of American music.

Harris continues to produce innovative and award-winning sound. In 2016 a selection of duets with Rodney Crowell - The Traveling Kind - won a Grammy for Best Americana Album. Here is a track from the album:

Today, Emmylou Harris turned 78. Fame has been kind to her given such a long and successful touring and recording career. She's brought quality entertainment to millions of people since the beginning in those early days with Graham Parsons. We'll never know where the two of them would have gone together in the world of music but it's safe to say it would have been far. Here is a song she and Bill Danoff wrote as a tribute to Parsons:

Boulder to Birmingham

I don't want to hear a love song
I got on this airplane just to fly
And I know there's life below
But all that it can show me
Is the prairie and the sky

And I don't want to hear a sad story
Full of heartbreak and desire
The last time I felt like this
It was in the wilderness and the canyon was on fire
And I stood on the mountain in the night and I watched it burn
I watched it burn, I watched it burn.

I would rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
I would hold my life in his saving grace.
I would walk all the way from Boulder to Birmingham
If I thought I could see, I could see your face.

Well you really got me this time
And the hardest part is knowing I'll survive.
I have come to listen for the sound
Of the trucks as they move down
Out on ninety five
And pretend that it's the ocean
coming down to wash me clean, to wash me clean
Baby do you know what I mean

I would rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
I would hold my life in his saving grace.
I would walk all the way from Boulder to Birmingham
If I thought I could see, I could see your face.



Thank you, Emmylou, and a happy birthday (April 2), too. It's been quite a journey from those gigs at the Red Fox Inn.




Sources:
Photo, emmylouharris.com
Lyrics: play.google.com

Ever So Divine: The Persistence Of The Sounds Of Sarah Vaughan

The American jazz singer, Sarah Vaughan, known as "Sassy" and "The Divine One," performed for almost fifty years. She was not only a singer but also a magician who could wring a full spectrum of rmotion from a song with her warmth and three-octave range. Indeed she was a symphony of sound. The introductory paragraph of her Wikipedia entry quotes the music critic, Scott Yanow, as saying she had "one of the most wondrous voices of the 20th century." When coupled with the greatest of songwriters from 1930 on I think she could be matched only by Ella Fitzgerald for her vocal magic in popular music and jazz. Thirty-two years after her passing fans still wait for a singer who can approach her amazing voice. I must say that Jane Monheit has done a fine job of blending the Vaughan recipe with her own spices to bring us much of the magic we remember so well. Here is Sassy performing the signature song from late in her career, Send In The Clowns:

That is performance in song. It was recorded twenty years before Auto-Tune and other pitch correction and vocal tuning software could turn tone deaf studio metrosexuals and assorted hotties of any sex into so-called stars. We've come down a long way in what passes for both talent and popular music over the past generation. Of course, there are exceptions but for the most part real singing has become subordinate to other aspects of presentation, performance, and spectacle. And once more I ask the question, "Where is jazz, a genre birthed in the United States?" It is alive in many small markets across the country but it remains a small portfolio in the financial departments of our corporate music industry.

So as the Jane Monheits, Diana Kralls, Jazzmeia Horns, Samara Joys, and others keep jazz alive let us honor the memory of one of its greatest interpreters, Sarah Vaughan, who was born on March 27, 1924, in Newark, New Jersey. For another taste of her magic, here she is near the close of her career performing Misty.

A three octave vocal range, no Auto-Tune, singular perfection.

Vaughan passed away 35 year ago but her music and its legacy remain very much with us.

Sources


Photos and Illustrations:
opening photo, William P. Gottlieb Collection, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

Flannery O'Connor: Southern Beings, Southern Spirits

One of the most significant writers in America, Flannery O'Connor, was born on March 25 in Savannah, Georgia, in 1925. She spent her early childhood as a devout Catholic there in a home just off Lafayette Square. The square features moss-draped live oaks, colorful azaleas, and an abundance of birds, all sitting in the shadows of the towering spires of the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Things haven't changed much in this beautiful space. It still has its interesting spectrum of regular visitors: fast-walking pedestrians, lovers holding hand, lunch hour diners, retirees enjoying the benches, touring families, people waiting for the bus, runners and bikers, and children at play. And every day for the last 120 years, the cathedral casts its shadow over the O'Connor home while its bells remind the people of God's grace and their obligations as His children. I think as long as you can visit Lafayette Square, say on any pleasant Sunday afternoon, you can know O'Connor well.

Her family moved to Atlanta in 1938, where her father was diagnosed with lupus, a chronic disease involving the destruction of healthy tissue by the body's immune system. Shortly thereafter they moved 100 miles southeast to her mother's family home in Milledgeville. When her father died in 1941, O'Connor moved a few miles north of town to her uncle's farm where she lived with her mother. Eventually, the farm would be called Andalusia, and it became a refuge following her own diagnosis with lupus in 1950. At Andalusia, she would raise her beloved peacocks and weave her experiences and memories of people, ethics, morals, and religion into her novels, Wise Blood, and The Violent Bear It Away, and scores of short stories published in two collections in her lifetime, A Good Man is Hard to Find, and Everything That Rises Must Converge. Her Complete Stories appeared posthumously in 1971.

Main house at Andalusia

O'Connor's office-bedroom at Andalusia

Lupus, an incurable long-term autoimmune disease, took Flannery O'Connor from us in 1964 when she was in her 39th year. You can visit both her childhood home and Andalusia thanks to foundations that preserve the landscapes and memories she cherished. And, thanks to her, you can visit the South anytime by simply opening one of her books.

Many years ago the management at Andalusia removed scores of the offspring of O'Connor's beloved peacocks to the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, a large Trappist estate about two and a half miles from our ridge top home. At that time the area was still quite rural and the peacocks flourished in and around the monastery grounds.

Thirty years ago on quiet evening when the wind was right it was not unusual for us to hear them calling faintly in the distance. Eventually, they were removed and for some years now there has been no call to break the silence. But we do remember those urgent and sometimes fearful calls in the dusk. Today the woods remain a gallery of sounds. Some we know well. Others we may not recognize so easily. Those of us who know O'Connor's work well may find it difficult to distinguish between the peacock, the author's veil, or the rich spirit world that inhabits her American South. After all, from the ancient traditions of the Catholic world the peacock is the symbol of immortality.

I think it is safe to say that while the South is significantly less Christ-centered than it was in O'Connor's time, it most certainly remains Christ-haunted. The Southerner who isn’t convinced of it is very much afraid if not haunted by the fact that he may have been formed in the image and likeness of God. And visitations by ghosts can be very fierce and instructive. In O'Connor's dance with the grotesque her characters and their angst cast strange shadows. The characters may fade away. Their shadows never fade away.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Childhood photo, Andalusia Farm, Inc. Photo courtesy of the Flannery O'Connor Collection, Georgia College and State University, Milledgeville, Georgia.
House, deepsouthmagazine.com
Bedroom, photo courtesy of Emily Elizabeth Beck
Adult portrait, openculture.com


Text:

Flannery O'Connor entry, Sarah Gordon, et al, georgiaencyclopedia.org
quotation from Flannery O'Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose, selected and edited by Sally and Robert Fitzgerald, New York; Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1969

J. S. Bach: Sounds From Heaven

J.S. Bach statue in Leipzig, Germany

Today marks the birthday (in 1685, and for Old Style calendar sticklers, it's March 21) of one of the great three "B's" in classical music, Johann Sebastian Bach, He gave us some of the most sublime music in western culture and it would be an oversight, especially as a Lutheran, not to honor this master of the Baroque and pillar of Lutheranism. 

Here, in seventeen minutes, I think you will understand the compelling effect Bach music has on listeners. In this interpretation by Glenn Gould you'll also be able to hear the performer's notorious verbal accompaniment.

His music was largely forgotten for almost a century following his death, but had been restored by the first quarter of the 19th century. The new-found popularity of Bach was due largely to the composer-performers, Felix Mendelssohn and Ludwig van Beethoven, and the publication of many of Bach's works. 

I was introduced to the music of J.S. Bach as an infant at Mount Calvary Lutheran Church in my little hometown in the mountains of Maryland. The church already had been baptizing members of my father's family for over seventy years. In the summer of my ninth year our family moved leaving behind not only familiar places but also a church family. When I left town I took Bach's faith and music with me. 

So what makes his music so appealing? I could give you my opinion but I'm going to defer to Rick Beato, a performer, composer, producer, teacher, and music historian who has produced an outstanding fifteen minute assessmenyt of Bach and his legacy. Beato's You Tube channel has many videos on the subject. Prepare to be surprized watching your favorite musicians of the past sixty years - jazz, blues, rock, country, c;lassical, or whatever - discuss the place of Bach in the lives and careers. 

Bach's music has remained very much alive in me since leaving "home" seventy years ago. His preludes. fugues, harmonies, the shear wonder of his work, it's all in my blood, and I can't play a single note of it. Wouldn't have it any other way. I simply listen and let it flow.

It's my hope that you can take time today to listen to the videos in this post. Normally I try to avoid posting music longer than ten minutes but today will be an exception. Also, I trust if interested you'll watch the other Bach videos available on Beato's YouTube channel. You will not be disappointed.

As an aside, I highly recommend Rick Beato's YouTube channel as an outstanding source for news and general info on all kinds of music and music history. He knows the industry from all sides in addition to being an entertaining host and interviewer.

Music's ultimate end or final goal…should be for the honor of God and the recreation of the soul.

                                                        J. S. Bach - Leipzig, 1738

Sources

Photo: stlpublicradio.org, flickr/seabamirum

Spring 2025

An hour or so before sunrise in the eastern US the plane of our planet of our planet pass through the center of the sun. That means today is an equinox day: the sun is directly overhead on the equator at midday and the the length of light and darkness are just about equal anywhere on the planet. This year I don't care to get more technical about the facts. What really matters is it's the first day of Spring in the northern hemisphere. Metro Atlanta could use better weather to mark the arrival. Cloudy skies, gusty 30mph winds, and a temperature flirting with 50 degrees feels far nore like midwinter. No need to fret though as clearer skies and 75 degree temperatures ill be with us by Saturday

When it comes to calendars and changing seasons, I'm always reminded of the French Revolutionary Calendar (1793-1805) teasing us with the warmth and color of Spring. The calendar itself wiped away all references to the past, the old French regime, and a return to an Edenic world. For starters the spring equinox marks the first day of the month of Germinal. Every day had a name appropriate for the season. A revolutionary idea, I'd say. So here is the revolution's personification of Germinal and her fecund thirty days (March 21 - April 19):

1. Primevere - Primrose

2. Plantane - Plane Tree

3. Asperge - Asparagus

4. Tulipe - Tulip

5. Poule - Hen

6. Bette - Chard Plant

7. Bouleau - Birch Tree

8. Jonquille - Daffodil

9. Aulne - Alder

10. Couvoir - Hatchery

11. Pervenche - Periwinkle

12. Charme - Hornbeam

13. Morille - Morel

14. Hetre - European Beech Tree

15. Abielle - Bee

16. Laitue - Lettuce

17. Meleze - Larch

18. Cigue - Hemlock

19. Radis - Radish

20. Ruche - Hive

21. Gainier - Judas Tree

22. Romaine - Lettuce

23 Marronnier - Horse chestnut

24. Roquette - Arugula or Rocket

25. Pigeon - Pigeon

26. Lilas - Lilac

27. Anemone - Anemone

28. Pensee - Pansy

29. Myrtille - Blueberry

30. Greffor - Knife

Wonderful imagery about the season of renewal in those thirty words. The remaining eleven months are equally impressive. Alas, even the best elements of most cultural revolutions are apt to fail. The French Revolutionary Calendar, introduced in 1793, disappeared along with the First French Republic in the early days of the Napoleonic Era beginning in 1805.

Enough with history for now. May your first day of spring be the harbinger of warm weather and wind in your sails. Here is some beautiful imagery in sound to help you on your way.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations: Allegory of Germinal, public domain, wikipedia.fr, French National Library and Bureau of Measures, Paris

He Captured The Character Of The Vanishing West And Shaped Its Image For The World

 

When the Land Belonged to God                 C. M. Russell, 1914

In 2009 my wife and I made a detailed journey along the Missouri River following the route of the Lewis and Clark Expedition (1804-06). It took us from the mouth of the river in Saint Louis to its headwaters at the continental divide on the Montana-Idaho border. One of our destinations was the very appropriately named city of Great Falls, Montana. The Lewis and Clark expedition reached this same series of forbidding obstacles to navigation in June 1805 and spent a month portaging around them. A century later, the city that grew up around the falls would become the home to artist and writer, Charles M. Russell, one of the finest interpreters of the landscape of the American West, its Indian inhabitants, and the cowboy.

Photo portrait of Russell taken around 1900

Russell was born on March 19, 1864, in St. Louis, Missouri, and developed a fascination with the West as a young boy. It never left him. When his parents sent him to boarding school in New Jersey to overcome his obsession, he merely filled his notebooks with sketches of cowboys and Indians until his parents relented and sent him to the frontier with a trusted friend. As a participant-observer, Russell captured Montana in a brief period of perhaps thirty years when boundaries separating the sublime natural setting, Native American culture, and western frontier cowboy culture began to dissolve. In that period his work developed depth and detail and by 1910 he was well-known among art circles from coast to coast. In addition, he had a huge influence on the interpretation of western culture in print and especially in film making. For many years he was the nation's highest earning artist. When he died in 1926, he left a legacy of thousands of illustrations, paintings, sculptures, letters and other material documenting the three themes. Much of that work is displayed today at the C. M. Russell Museum in Great Falls. Within the museum, visitors can see the nature of the Northern Rockies and High Plains and the full range of cultures of those who lived and worked in this beautiful and challenging place. One can see and feel the full range of Russell's personality, from serious to whimsical, by exploring his home and studio.

Russell's Christmas greeting in 1914

Best wishes for your Christmas 

Is all you get from me.

 'Cause I ain't no Santa Claus— 

Don't own no Christmas tree. 

But if wishes was health and money 

I'd fill your buck-skin poke, 

Your doctor would go hungry 

An' you never would be broke.

In the last century, any boy or girl who played "cowboys and Indians," enjoyed stories, illustrations, films, and televisions programs with western themes did so  through Russell's interpretation of his experience. Today, he remains a fascinating example of the reality and mythology of a man who lived his dreams, captured the soul of a vanishing culture, and planted its seeds for others to nuture in their own way. And for citizens of the United States, he is a national treasure. For Big Sky Montana, he is a beloved favorite son.

If you ever find yourself in Great Falls, Montana, pay Charlie a visit. You will not be disappointed.






Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
When the Land Belongs to God, replica, Montana Historical Society, public domain
portrait, public domain
Christmas greeting, Montana Historical Society, public domain

Text:
C. M. Russell Museum, Great Falls, Montana
wikipedia.org
C. M. Russell and the American West, An Unfinished Work, Montana Public Broadcasting Service