Warming up to the Idea

Every day, I try to take this beautiful walk for about 20 minutes to maybe a half an hour. 

A giant field has been set aside as preservation land. When the grass grows tall enough, it is cut and baled as hay for the local horses. Meanwhile, it provides beautiful, unobstructed views of the local mountains and hills. Some of it reminds me of Montana and the Bearpaw Mountains (which are much smaller than the Rockies, and jut out from and otherwise lightly rolling terrain.

Very little traffic comes along the road, and so many people use it. 

Walking their dogs, or strolling with children. Joggers, bicycle riders, and in the winter cross country skiers and the occasional snow mobile rider show up. 

 

I'm starting to get a feel for the energy around here, and it's already had a creative effect on things. Writing songs, always playing an instrument. Writing in general (like here) is a healthy outlet during these COVID times. 

 

 

Start Making Sense

 One of my favorite quotes from Wallace Stegner is "We write to make sense of it all"

The truth to that is what has helped me over the past several years.

It was this time a year ago when I was saying goodbye to my father for what would be the final time. He had been living in a memory care facility for the final year of the nearly-five years at River Ridge in Avon. The last few years were very hard to watch. But watch I did, just as I did with my mother several years earlier. Fortunately, my father and my mother both went peacefully. It was just getting there that was anything but peaceful. Literally, the day after my father passed, COVID-19 was forcing rest homes to shut down, and it was a struggle just to get his belongings out of his room.

 I had two shows that weekend, and then all clubs were shut down. I had nothing to do but sit at home and wait for several months before I would play any sort of working events. I didn't write any songs however. I was learning a lot of cover songs, but no material of my own was coming out, until nearly a year into the shutdown, when I was tagged in a songwriting challenge that takes place every February around the world. My partner and I jumped in, and together we came up with over 10 songs in less than a month.Writing quickly forces me to draw inspiration from all kinds of places. Some I want to go to, but don't know how to express simple (or complex) emotions. Some I would rather not go to, but have been waiting to be expressed, and now I had a chance. So I went for it. All of it. 

In a few short weeks, I dove deep into a pool of sadness, and joy - I wrote about my father, I wrote about my grandfather, I wrote about the breakdown of my previous relationship, and the journey I had gone on after that.to find myself ready to write new chapters in my life, and find love anew. After much soul searching, I ultimately discovered I was in a happy present, but was still carrying around some very sad memories from the past. I guess, once I start writing, it's like the floodgates open, and all that volume spills forth. 

But it is a strange process. When I read back a lot of my lyrics, they often don't align with specific events in my life... they often merely capture a mood, and the details within the rhymes could be about anybody.

Another Stegner quote that has always struck me was, "To write good Fiction, you must be Truthful"

Maybe my quote should be, "Write about something you know, and you could be writing about someone you've never met." 

Winter on the Wane

 

Temperatures are ready to soar into the 60s this week. It certainly feels like Spring is on our doorstep.

 

A few weeks ago, things looked like this. 

Making it through another winter is never easy for me. I am no fan of shoveling snow, or driving in it. We ony had a few major snowstorms, luckily, and I didn't have any shows, so there was no worries about driving. I manage to do a fair amount of walking, and taking pictures. Also wrote over 10 original songs with my partner.

I also spend a lot of time playing guitar.

I own a bunch of them. 

 

The Waters of Turners Falls

 Not sure why I am drawn to this area. It would have been the last place I would want to be when I was younger. The polar opposite of a thriving, active city like Boston. But the wide main street, the brownstone buildings, the rushing waters of that ever-present Conneciicut River. Made me feel preconnected to the town 20 years ago.

I saw a few friends of mine play at a small club called The Rendezvous over the years. That place gave me hope for some kind of scene to develop, and it has. In years since, I have seen bands play at the Shea Theater, and even played there myself on one occasion. I played several gigs at The Voo, and have been a dinner guest many times over the summer with my partner. 

Only a 15 minute drive away. I can show up and walk around to take pictures of the waters from the canal, and the old metal bridges that cross it. I get some great pictures, and really enjoy spending time here finding beauty in between grocery runs.

There is also a nice little music store called Replay, and I go there every month or so for small items, but they have nice gear.

Found an old replacement pickgaurd for a Telecaster on my most recent trip.

 

I Can See For Miles and Miles

 

I drive by this place so many times, I decided today would be the day I went for a hike. The view is amazing, and I have always driven to the summit. This time around, the access road is closed so you have to hike it. I had made a resolution to stay active, and start exercising more. Today was a decent day to start that.

I started on my way, and knew it would be a shot, but steep climb.

There wasn't much ice left, but there was lots of reddish mud. I got quite a bit of it on my clothes as I crawled up the side of the slippery slope.

All worth it for the view at the top. 

I'm going to try and keep doing this!

 

Water Under The Bridge

New Year's Day.

 A fresh start, and a farewell to a mostly awful old year. 

I woke up feeling restless and decided to take a drive along the Mohawk Trail. Past Shelburne Falls, Charlemont and up into the small town of Heath. 

I eventually hit the Vermont border, and decided to turn around and head back down Route 8A. I passed by a very pretty covered bridge and decided to get out of the car and explore it a bit.

 

I had never been on this road before and was totoally unaware of the existence of this quant covered bridge, Classic New England, I have always loved the smell of the old treated wood used to make these, and to walk through them to see the light peering in through the beams. 

I sometimes get inspired after such expereiences and hopefully this sparks something new for 2021.

This part of Massachusetts feels a lot like Southern Vermont, and the lines blur quite a bit. Hills and farms, small rivers and streams. Occasionally, you see historical schoolhouses, and an old mill. Many of the houses have fallen into disrepair and have been abandoned. Still, people come here for the peace and quiet, as well as the occasional pristine hillside views.

 It is old county, and I am always drawn to such sights, 

Frost Advisory

 It turned chilly up in Northern Vermont during our brief visit. Waking up in Greensboro, it was in the 30s and time to checkout. The sun came out and it warmed up enough to go for a drive to Lake Willoughby. 

It may have warmed up to the mid '60s, and although there were no clouds in the sky, an odd haze existed. Turns out it was from the wildfires out West and they have drifted all the way over here.

You can see how there was still a glare in the picture I took below.

We took a drive down the east side of Lake Willoughby, with its amazing cliffs. 

Robert Frost wrote about this area when he stayed here, and the Willoughvale Inn has a year round cabin called The Frost Cabin. 

Guess that is where I am going next.