Summer’s Chapters, Flowing

 

 

Last I left you I was on the Ohio River, sinking into this strange summer on home turf.  I taught a little pop up workshop at the Northern Kentucky University satellite lab and classroom where we walked and considered the quiet splendor of life in an Ohio wetland.  It was golden hour magic, albeit a bit sweaty.

We collected imagery to sketch back in the classroom (we only had limited time, so we were taking shortcuts here for sake of a quick lesson.)  We witnessed the arrival of new life, courtesy of this lovely turtle we encountered as she laid her eggs.  We gave her space and quietly walked by her.  This is something I had never seen in person before.

Everywhere we looked there was life brimming, which was good to see.  If we can give Mother Nature a chance, she will recover, with or without our human presence.

Soon, our garlic was out of the ground and curing in the garage (talk about last minute chore doing!) and I was eventually all packed for the upcoming week at The Swannanoa Gathering’s Celtic Week.

In the evening, our little family of three headed out for a bite and beer.  It was HOT.  (But the beer was cold, so.)

On Saturday, two local music buddies of mine arrived to sweep me away to Asheville.  Thankfully it was a relatively uneventful trip and we soon found ourselves exploring funky old Asheville town, meeting fellow artist Mira Gerard who is a college friend of one of my fellow travelers.  Their work is exquisite and I was instantly captivated.  They blend some of the qualities of the master portrait painters of old with newer colors and techniques and abstractions.  While I couldn’t afford this work below, I did spy a small painting in Mira’s studio just upstairs from the gallery while I was playing a couple of tunes for us all per the requests of my friends.

When I am back home in August I will share some photos of this little painting, which I decided to purchase.  I like to invest in art sometimes when it strikes my fancy.  Mira’s color work is inspiring and her work stirs in me a desire to paint more.  So it’s also an investment in myself I suppose.

After a stay at a little air b and b (a sweet place, though just up the breeze from the local water treatment plant… ahem.  We stayed indoors for the short time we lodged there) we got all checked in at “band camp”.  Unpacking and nest making ensued for a while so we could settle in.  The flutilla family had been slowly gathering.  We were fetching one another from the airports and making sure all bases were covered.  I was so busy reuniting that I forgot to take any photos of this first day or so.  It was just SO GOOD to see these dear soul friends of mine who meet at the crossroads of music and mayhem for this week every year.  Suddenly it was Monday and classes began.

Nuala has a new album out so I picked one up for a friend back home who couldn’t be with us.  I know how that feels.

Reunions continued as the day wore on and we were quickly back into the swing of things, Swannanoa style.  Many afternoons had us gathering for a cool beverage and a chat.

Evenings were concerts (for those with any bandwidth left in their brains!) and of course sessions.  In the last couple of years, some of the staff find their way down for a few tunes with us and we don’t take this lightly!  We are ever so grateful for their tunes, tutelage and friendship.  We all grow together really.  How lucky are we???

Sometimes, during the year between these summer sojourns, we lose one of our ranks.  Recently we lost our beloved Bob McLaughlin, down here on the left in the first photo.  “Laugh” is in his name and this is what I remember about him most.  Laughter.  The first time I really felt the gelling of something truly special at Celtic Week, which would eventually become what is now known by many as The Flutilla, was in an evening of laughter with Bob, Ellen, Jeff and David.  These folks have become literal musical family to me and this year we lost our beloved Bob.

 

 

Bob was friends to many, adored by his family as well as all of his friends and was just an all around good guy.  He is sorely missed.

And still, through life, love and losses, we have one other for now at least, and for this we are grateful indeed.

We reacquainted with one another and shared tunes and techniques.  My friend Julie even strapped on the pipes one afternoon to see what it takes to wrestle an octopus.  I do believe she now thinks I’m crazy for having taken them up at all!

In the afternoons, just after lunch, I found myself down by the river to take a swim before the pipes class.  This daily swim afforded a cooling down of body and refreshment of brain, stretched by so many new tunes as well as the sleep deprivation which accompanies late nights of sessions.

This year, I attended the double pipes classes in the afternoons with piper Cillian Vallely.  He’s a quiet genius and very much admired by all pipers.  I found that his teaching style is perfectly suited for my learning style and my confidence was repaired somewhat after some classes in the spring time which, while informative and brilliant, had me feeling quite small and incapable.

I know I will never be a piper of any great regard, perhaps I may never even play up to speed at sessions, that’s what the flute is for.  But I’d like to keep going, keep learning, keep challenging my mind (and body, as it’s a physical thing, this contraption.)  It’s important for us all to continue putting ourselves into places where we need to fire new mental synapses.  Perhaps this is one small way to grow older with a bit less hardening into place.  At least that’s my hope.

All the while, North Carolina was our splendorous backdrop at every turn.

Each morning, sleep deprivation or no, we awoke to the breath of sunshine that is Nuala Kennedy.  She too is a genius, but slightly less quiet.  Always quick with a laugh or witty word play, Nuala is a musical force of nature.  I was lucky enough to have gotten into this class again and we were once again treated to some fabulous tunes and of course, a lot of laughs along the way.

We learned the two first tunes in the set below from Nuala’s new album Shorelines.  She described the first tune as when the water is choppy and the sailing is hard going, but then (second tune begins) we catch the wind in our sails, the weather softens and we are on our way.  Saltwater, Flow.  I love these tunes even though they are likely not anything I would attempt in a session.  They challenged our senses of rhythm and timing and we had a blast learning them.

Meanwhile, as I am in the pipes class both afternoon sessions, I have been missing out on the fun in Kevin’s flute classes, which I am a little sad about.  But we must make sacrifices sometimes.  I was invited to stop into his class one day by my friend Shawn who runs the Gulf Coast Cruinnúi down in Texas.  A while back I did some artwork for this workshop and below you’ll see that a bit of that art work is now returned from a trip to outer space!!!  I’ve known about this for well over a year but wasn’t allowed to say anything publicly until everything was done and dusted as they say.

Here is Banjodilly in space.

Here is my copy of the patch (alas, not the one who went to space as that one was given to Kevin) on my pipes case.  It was fun to see my designs around camp last week in the form of bags and t-shirts and of course these patches which Kevin and I now have.  What a treat!  (and an honor.)

I was very brave and took my pipes to the slow session one afternoon when I heard that Kevin was running the session and would keep the pace actually slow.

The week wore on and outside of the learning and the music, the friendships continued to deepen with my very best camp mates.

Cute (comfortable!) shoes are always a must and sometimes, we found ourselves in others.

There was a ceili on the Thursday of the week.  Dancing to a band made up of the best in the business.  So much swing in their playing.

In between, there was silliness and antics.  My teacher John Skelton from home always makes me laugh.

It was good to see the dancing return to this week.  The pandemic did a number on so many beautiful things we humans do together.  Like singing, dancing, hugging.  And it seems we were fortunate enough to all stay healthy.

There were more sessions….

We most often found ourselves in the pavilion where so many memories of past years reside.

Later in the week, flute builder Jay Hamm measured my flute for a new case.  His flutes are gorgeous but I love the one I have.  Jay has been kind enough to agree to make me one of his wooden cases which will make traveling that much smaller in size.  Fingers crossed I’ll get it before I leave for Ireland, but we shall see.  I have learned not to get too attached to things being one way or another.  Perhaps this mindset is another hold over from the pandemical times.

Soon the week was coming to an end.  After all, one can only handle so much of life at camp.

We performed at the student showcase, and while not quite the level of spectacle for which the fluters have come to be known, we did have a little something funny planned.  I STILL get nervous in front of a crowd and so look to my teacher all throughout the set to make sure we were on the right page.  As always, it was fun!

At the end of the day, what really stole the show at the student showcase was a performance on Galician pipes by Anna from our flute class.  Originally from Ukraine and only recently relocated here to the US, Anna was shy and reserved at the beginning of the week but by week’s end, she knew she had a whole crop of new friends.  Delightful and a brilliant musician to boot, Anna brought down the house with a set on the pipes.  John Skelton, himself a Galician piper, even got a few folks dancing.  It was a magical moment.  Especially as I consider what Anna’s home country is currently grappling with.  Can joy and music and laughter heal the world?  Who knows, but it can heal one person, one moment.  This much at least is true.  Anna’s whole family is still in Ukraine.  Please keep her and all Ukranians in your heart.

Saturday came, tearful goodbyes were said, and we were homeward bound.  There I did a record turn around of packing and laundry and readying for another journey.  Off to Maine!!

We were up before dawn to walk the puppy, say a prayer of good health to the garden and get ourselves on the road.

We flew to Philadelphia and were greeted there by texts that our next flight, and all flights that day headed to the northeast, were canceled due to weather.  We quick booked a rental car and decided we would just drive the final leg.

With some hope, I waited a bit for our one piece of checked luggage but alas, it was slated to have its own adventure.  We decided to leave it behind, hoping eventually it might catch up with us.  I’ll be honest, I was so tired and feeling a bit crisp around the edges, that this brought me to tears.  Some of that was down to the emotional whiplash of having just had a week of immersion into the music.  It’s not an easy thing to return to normality.  Under the best of circumstances.

And so we drove.  Up through NJ and an t-úll mór (the big apple).  Onward through Connecticut, Massachusetts, NH and finally into Maine.

You wouldn’t believe the crush of humanity at the rest stops in NJ.  Everyone crabby from travel glitches.

But eventually we did make it.

And greeted by friends who are family and who know just what we need to recover from a weary  day of traveling.

Freeport has become like a second home to us.  We know where things are, and the beauty and quietude are familiar.

I had packed a swimsuit on my carryon so was able to get my ocean swim in the next day.  Swimming in the sea is one of my favorite things.  Kind of strange for a land-locked Appalachian river-rat.

The air has been hazy here from the wildfires in Canada, which makes things eerie.

We have sampled some of the oysters which help to clean the sea.  They are fresh and delicious here.

And the shells are works of art in and of themselves.

Once our suitcase managed to arrive (hooray!) and with it some paints, I managed a little painting.

There will surely be more to come, but for now, I must don my swim togs and ready for another dip in the sea.