Long Time Coming

Check out my (at last!) recording at bandcamp.com

I guess you may have noticed, if you are a regular reader of mine, that I have been absent for way too long. Sorry about that! Here's what's going on...

A long-time friend of mine, James Lindenschmidt of Bardic Brews and Crafted Recordings, offered to help me with some recording. I have been a musician for my whole adult life, playing folk harp, fingerstyle guitar, hammered dulcimer, and an assortment of other instruments, but in the recent past my songwriting went into overdrive, fed by the life changes that came with falling deeply in love. Happily, my musicianship has kept pace with my heart and my writing aspirations, and I have a steadily-growing collection of really good songs to show for it! 

I went into overdrive, consulting with my Honey about which were the best songs to break out with, practicing like mad, making sure I had the words just the way they should be...and new songs kept intruding! But eventually, just a couple of weeks ago, Jim came to Ironwood Hollow, toting all sorts of esoteric equipment, and Honey left us to our own devices. He told me that he has always wanted to try recording in our home, with its very unique acoustics that come from the cordwood masonry, the high ceilings, and the curved walls. 

Long story as short as possible, we had about three hours of good recording time all to ourselves, and in that time we recorded six of my songs. For each of them, I played my solo arrangement and sang at the same time, then went back and recorded a harmony track and a second guitar track in some cases. The one that sticks in my mind the most is when I said, "Jim, let me just hear the tune, and I'll play through the lead guitar, and see if I remember how it goes..." When I was finished, he just said, "Oh yeah, I was recording; that's great. What's next?" 

Six songs of spiritual love recorded in a cordwood masonry meadhall!

It was that kind of session. Jim's knowledge of recording and innate calm made it a pure pleasure. Followed by many hours of his skilled time mixing and mastering, one of the finest gifts I've ever received, this session has turned into an EP of a small sampling of my recent music. (An EP is an extended play, several songs, but not long enough to be called a CD). I have been working my way through the process of making the songs available, now that Jim has declared the tracks finished. Actual CDs are in process, and I'll post details about that when it's all set up. In the meantime, harpermeader.bandcamp.com is where to go to hear them. I hope you will purchase all or some of them for download! Bandcamp offers music affordably, with the option of paying anywhere from a minimum up to what you feel the music is worth. They will appear in the other usual venues shortly (itunes, amazon, etc), as that process does its thing. 

The changes in my life and my heart that my Honey has brought to me are only hinted at in these songs, but I am so pleased to be able to share a bit of that joy with you. There will be more, since I've determined to make songwriting a major part of my future. Stay tuned. Among these songs you will find a steamy celebration of midsummer loving (Magic in the Moonlight), a rousing sailing song (Snapping Sails), the perfect tune for when you're storm-stayed with your love (Snowdrift Love), a partial-capoed pattern-picked epic-love-song for the guitarists among us, with a nod to the great love-poet, Rumi, (The Glassblower's Breath), and more.

I hope that you like my work. My hope is that this project will fund the next recording, and that my love of music, words, spirit, life, and my Honey will become something more than a hobby, that it will bring a piece of that joy that is my life into the homes of many.

Okay, a final note...anywhere else you find my songs, they're likely to cost about the same, but at bandcamp, you get the lyrics for free, and you can hear the whole song right there before you decide to part with a dollar or two. Also, just sayin'...as one of my blog-readers, you know where to find me. If you play, and want to know my chords, or get a hint about the picking patterns that I use, you know where to find me. 

Joining, Growing, Trusting

Most of my posts so far have been practical. By that I mean that they have been about fitting things together, creating something from disparate parts, paying attention to detail, and so on. This one won't be. It is about intangibles, feelings, magic, belief, and faith. While I have been focusing on the hands-on part of our life in my writing these days, making a room for the girls, cooking with style while keeping it healthy and budget-wise, teaching the boys to build things, and so on, what really drives my life now is less easily defined. 

I can't take a picture of that moment when my Honey's mothering skills wake me up once again to the finer points of parenting, even though I have been raising children for decades. I can't take a picture of the way that a moment of teamwork, her knowing what I need, me knowing that I can count on her, can do for a challenging situation. I can't take a picture of my Honey empowering me to say no to her, unlearning everything I have learned in previous relationships. There's no way to photograph the moment when she trusts me to parent (and that is one of the biggest leaps of faith out there; you know it if you have children), or when I realize that anything at all she might bring to our relationship will enrich my life, enabling me to carry things through my door that I can't even identify.

That last moment was a great example of what I'm driving at. Unloading a few last-minute things as part of our Great Household Joining, I carried a thing that looked a bit like a wrought-iron Christmas tree. Between you and me, I had no idea what it was, and the point is that I didn't care. I would have moved in a zebra-striped llama without question, that's how smitten I am, but don't tell her that, because she might like llamas. I just figured it was a whoosywingus of some kind, meant something to her, and we were going to find room for it.

Balancing that out, and in the interest of leaving enough room to move about the house, Honey is honestly wanting me to say no to some stuff. This is new to me, and I treasure it. This morning I took a deep breath and said no to yet another bookshelf. We have give-and-take going here, and consideration for each other in everything we do. I could say no to the mitten-dryer (not a Christmas tree after all, and great in a place with a wood-stove and long winters), but I won't. She knows very well that I would say yes to almost anything, but will do everything she can to not overdo it.

This is complicated, and a two-edged sword. On the one hand, I trust her to be making the very best decision, and I believe she feels the same way about me. On the other hand, I believe that if I question something she decides, we can sort that out without endangering our relationship, and I believe that she knows the same thing. Neither of us simply caves in, each of us is empowered, respected, in decisions large and small. As I write this I'm wondering if it is as big a deal to others as it is to me. There must be many couples out there who know this intuitively, but I know that it is new and wonderful to me.

Now that I think back on it, when I said that this post wouldn't be practical, I was wrong. It is about fitting things together, creating something from disparate parts, and paying attention to detail. It's the most beautiful undertaking I have ever taken on, and it's practical, essential, crucial in a very real sense. Life would not be worth living without those intangibles, feelings, magic, belief, faith, and yes, Love.

On Being Taciturn, a Brief Post

tac·i·turn

[tas-i-turn] adjective 1. inclined to silence; reserved in speech; reluctant to join in conversation.

We Mainers have long been known for our taciturnity, our terseness, our brevity with words. Ask a Mainer, "Have you lived here all your life?" and he may well answer, "Not yet." We are proud of saying much with little, of not wearing out a listener's ear by going on and on, of  showing what we mean with actions rather than words. I have never questioned that as a value until recently. 

Lately, though, I've been re-thinking it. How are the people in my life supposed to decode my silences without more clues? I might think that I'm communicating with my smile that my breakfast was great, I love how you look today, plan on fixing a dinner but might need to pick up some potatoes, and so on, but if all you get is that little smile and silence, you could be wondering if the toast was overdone, if your hair is out of kilter, if I might be considering going bowling instead of coming home after work. How are you supposed to know?

Don't get me wrong; I do think that silence is golden...up to a point. Stream-of-thought talk is wearing on everyone who has to listen to it, and eventually people just tune it out or avoid it, myself included. But I am going to try to add details and explanations to my usually brief declarations, and even to my smiles and other expressions. I will smile, and then say why.   

Even though we can accomplish a lot through non-verbal communication, smiles, shrugs, and nods, like e-mails and poetry, leave so much for the recipients to interpret that they may well see things that weren't intended. Or, more importantly not see things that were intended.

A Signpost without the words, while striking, is cryptic...

Keeping It True

In cordwood masonry building, one of the challenges is keeping your wall vertical. The load-bearing potential of the structure is dependent upon the wall being aligned as truly up-and-down as possible. A bit of variation won't be a disaster, but letting your wall wander too much will make for weak support. It could eventually buckle, or crack your windows by shifting over a leaning support system.

The metaphor is important to me. If you have a solid foundation, and build carefully and consciously upon it, then the strength that foundation will be present throughout your structure, providing safety, security, and even beauty because you have respected its gift of strength. Don't assume anything, but rather check as you go along that you and your foundation are in sync, that you're working together. Don't stray from it; honor it, and you can trust it with your home, your shelter, your life.

The most important tool for keeping your walls true in cordwood masonry is a plumb-bob, a pendulum-like brass tool on a long string, used for millennia to line up vertical work over its center of gravity. Mine is somewhat crusted with mortar, and its string is faded by time and weather, but it holds a strong magic, in my mind at least. Except for the first row or three of cordwood pieces, it was used on every single log in my cordwood masonry walls. When I look up at my highest walls, over eighteen feet from the foundation, I remember using it, over and over and over again.

First you mix up some mortar, using sand, cement mix, lime, water, and wet sawdust, along with plenty of back and arm strength with a masonry hoe. Then you carry a bucket of that and some cedar pieces up your ladder, lay a double-bead of mortar with rubber-gloved hands, and squish a piece of cedar roughly into place. Below you is a chalk-line two inches out from the base of the wall. You pull your trusty plumb-bob from your nail apron, along with a two-inch nail for a spacer, and swing it down from the head of the nail. The point of the nail is held steady against the wood, and when you have tapped the wood back and forth into the right position, the point of the bob is true above the chalk-line, making the log true at the top of the wall. Ancient science, the tradition of countless generations of carpenters and masons working through your hands, the magic of a fine metaphor, if you will pay attention to it. 

What's the most important tool for keeping your life true? Opinions may vary, but I believe that tending to your primary relationships above all else is crucial. Always checking that you are treating your loved ones as they deserve, with honesty, care, and consideration, that communication is true, you will know of potential trouble in time to correct it. You will build on that respect for your foundation.

I'm going to loan my plumb-bob, for the duration of their home-building, to Ben and Kissy of Dragonfly Acres, who have already begun harvesting cedar, and milling hemlock, for their own cordwood masonry home not far from ours. The thought of having that ancient and solid tool carry such a metaphor to another home built by people who bring thoughtfulness, love, and care to their endeavors pleases me greatly.