it's windy tonight and i'm tired. the leaves are rustling now, accosting my windshield, getting stuck in the wipers. they're blowing across the yard. the sky is grey tonight, even in the dark. just like snow clouds. like a cold front coming.
i'm drinking a bit of port tonight because i can. it tastes like the eucharist. it reminds me of drinking sherry in belfast in front of the fire. playing cards. shithead. you know. rounds and rounds of shithead.
i saw dear susan last night. we sat at jenna and trevor's new house in east nashville and was it really a year ago that i was in ireland? jenna and trevor have gone from question marks to wedding plans. susan is touring with over the rhine and creating amazing music that makes me long for life abundant. a year has carried us far. across oceans and into different houses. different countries.
i miss our season and holding patterns in belfast. i ache with the idea of a year passing since i went to iona. because i am a sentimental girl. i hold on to anniversaries for dear life. reference points. lifelines. ebenezers.
another sip of port. really, i'm clinging to the solid rock of memory tonight.
and jumping for joy at the thought of jude coming around again for a few days.
[entries to come a bit more often than has been the trend lately. i feel a shift. the words are rustling too.]
wednesday afternoon. 3:10 pm. i have spent a little over twenty-four hours in self-imposed exile. well. that sounds very dramatic. more aptly put: self-imposed vacation. i've taken to the hills of sewanee, via rt 41 instead of the interstate. yesterday, i drove with my new kris delmhorst cd through small towns with windows down and hand out the window, wind billowing through the back of my shirt. the weather of this week has been september's deliberate statement of change. ahem, it says. fall is here. and if you're not sure what that means, here is some cool weather, gold-glowed days of sunshine and an almost unfamiliar breeze on your back. praise me.
i praised the day a la annie dillard. i watched birds and bugs from the screened in porch of the bluffside cabin. i tried to make sense of the black-winged butterfly that wanted desperately to come inside the porch. she batted her wings and battered herself against the screen for an hour. somehow, she found her way in, but not without the consequence of a torn left wing. doomed to fly in haphazard circles, she hid out in the eaves of the porch all night. i found her tangled up in a spider web this morning, still flitting, but barely.
there is an unbroken horse named clancy in the pasture outside the cabin. i, of course, have befriended him. he's a tall guy, very fit, and even in his green halter, he seems quite carefree. he skipped over to the fence where i clucked for his attention yesterday afternoon, grass hanging out of his mouth. "may i help you?" he seemed to ask. i sighed, breathed in his earthy horse smell. he leaned in to me, rested his big horsehead on my girl shoulder. i really needed the attention. i kissed his nose. he skipped away. this morning, we played this game longer, and i scratched his ears and stroked his muzzle. he bit my hand as i fed him grass.
i know that i have to pack up my car in a little while, and drive back to the manic pace of nashville. but at the moment, most of my soul is still in bed, where i stayed until after 11 this morning, after turning in at 9 last night. i stared at the stars beforehand, though, drinking peppermint tea and praying thank yous. one solitary meteor shot across the sky like you're welcome. like a wink.
the struggle is not worth your life, i was told yesterday. i put down the struggle for a little over 24 hours, and picked up little moments of hope. hope like the constancy of an unseen waterfall at the bottom of the bluff. hope like clouds dissipating, giving way to the stars' bright show last night.
is proud to present
performing a full set one night only at the legendary
402 12th avenue south
on the evening of
SEPTEMBER 17th, at 8:00 p.m.
Lex Price - on mandolin
Kenny Hutson - on dobro and slide guitar
Sarah Siskind - with background vocals and on homemade percussion
Dave Jakes - on upright bass
expect an $8-$10 cover
and get a Pre-Release of her new CD for $15.00
featuring performances by
also visit the website
for more information and details on her latest tour with
Also look for her upcoming show at
Saturday Sept. 20th at 8:00 p.m.
in the round with
and Clare Burson
(an unofficial AMA conference showcase)
shannon is making brownies in the kitchen. beatrice is sleeping. smashy the dog is spinning in circles on his ass, trying to get relief from the fleas.
it's a beautiful day in erie, pa and we just got home from the zoo. i am a girl who has taken to stealing hugs from her 5 year old nephew. peggy is making chicken for dinner.
shannon sighs relief for these days of recognizing what good, intimate friendship we've sustained for nine years now. i sigh relief at how much God must love us all to give us these kinds of days.