There was a time when buying an album meant committing to a journey. You didn’t simply hear the hit single. You carried the record home, carefully slid the vinyl from its sleeve, admired the cover art, read every lyric, studied the musician credits, and settled into a chair knowing you were about to experience something larger than a handful of songs. Every track had a purpose. The opening number set the stage. The closing song left you with something to think about. Instrumentals weren’t filler—they were part of the emotional architecture. Even the liner notes mattered. The album wasn’t merely a collection of songs. It was the story. Today’s music world couldn’t be more different. Streaming platforms reward immediacy. Social media rewards frequency. Algorithms reward artists who constantly release new material. The modern playbook is simple: release a single, build momentum, release another single, repeat. By the time the album finally arrives, listeners have often heard half of it already. For many artists, that strategy makes perfect business sense. But something has quietly disappeared along the way. The album—the complete artistic statement—has become increasingly rare. Especially in bluegrass. Yet while much of the music industry races toward shorter attention spans and playlist placement, Nashville recording artist Marty Falle continues walking in the opposite direction. He still believes in albums. Not simply records filled with songs, but carefully constructed works with beginnings, endings, recurring themes, instrumental passages, historical context, and extensive liner notes that invite listeners to understand the music as deeply as they hear it. His tenth studio album, Song of the Holler, released August 1, may be the strongest expression yet of that philosophy. It isn’t simply another bluegrass release. It is an argument for why albums still matter. Building Albums Instead of Feeding Algorithms Ask nearly anyone in today’s music business what drives success, and the answer usually begins with one word. Singles. One memorable song. One streaming hit. One social media moment. Then another. And another. Artists are encouraged to remain constantly visible, releasing music every few weeks to satisfy algorithms that reward consistency more than patience. The unintended consequence is that albums often become little more than containers for previously released songs. The experience of discovering a complete body of work has largely disappeared. Falle has chosen another path. Over the last several years he has quietly assembled one of bluegrass music’s most prolific catalogs of original recordings, releasing complete albums rather than chasing individual streaming moments. His body of work has earned international radio attention while remaining rooted in a philosophy that many believed had become obsolete—the album as a complete artistic experience. That choice isn’t rooted in nostalgia. It’s rooted in storytelling. Some stories simply refuse to fit inside three minutes. Building Worlds Instead of Writing Songs Listen carefully to a Marty Falle album, and one realization becomes unavoidable. He isn’t merely writing songs. He’s building worlds. His records rarely revolve around isolated moments or disconnected themes. Instead, they create entire communities populated by coal miners, farmers, immigrants, veterans, mothers, preachers, laborers, dreamers, addicts seeking redemption, and families whose lives unfold across generations. The mountains themselves become recurring characters. So do churches. Coal camps. Country roads. Front porches. Kitchen tables. The people who inhabit these places are rarely presented as heroes or victims. They’re simply human. That consistency gives each album a remarkable sense of place. By the final track, listeners often realize they haven’t been hearing separate stories at all. They’ve been walking through the same Appalachian landscape from different directions. That kind of narrative architecture only happens when someone thinks in albums rather than singles. The Return of the Liner Notes Perhaps the most unusual aspect of Falle’s work isn’t found in the songs themselves. It’s found in everything surrounding them. Each composition arrives with historical background, personal reflections, explanations of forgotten Appalachian traditions, and stories about the people whose experiences inspired the writing. The instrumentals receive the same thoughtful treatment. Rather than existing simply to showcase musicianship, they become chapters without dialogue. “The Last Ride to Kingdom Come” evokes the final journey of coal miners traveling toward the mountains before sunrise. “Shift Whistle Blues” captures the sound that once awakened entire communities in Eastern Kentucky. “Rusted Banjo Boogie” celebrates the exhilarating tradition of high-speed bluegrass breakdowns. These pieces don’t interrupt the narrative. They deepen it. For listeners who remember studying album jackets decades ago, the experience feels surprisingly familiar. For younger audiences raised in the streaming era, it offers something entirely new. Song of the Holler: An Album Built Like a Novel The title alone suggests something larger than a collection of songs. Inspired by author K.D. McIntyre’s novel of the same name, Song of the Holler draws together literature and bluegrass in a way rarely attempted within the genre. The result is less like a playlist and more like a novel unfolding chapter by chapter. One song introduces miners whose labor built communities beneath the mountains. Another imagines the final words of a man who never made it home. Another remembers mothers who transformed flour sacks into curtains and quilts, creating dignity from poverty. Elsewhere, a father prays over his son. An addict reaches toward redemption. A drought becomes a metaphor for spiritual longing. Each song contributes another perspective to the same larger narrative. Individually they are complete. Collectively they become something greater than any one performance could achieve. Songs That Remember One Another One of the great strengths of the classic concept album was its ability to allow songs to speak across time. Characters could evolve. Ideas could mature. Themes could return with greater emotional weight. Song of the Holler embraces that tradition. The working men of “Portal 31” echo through “Lunch Pail Testament.” The poverty remembered in “Feed Sack Curtain” finds spiritual hope in “Grace Fell Like Rain.” The struggle portrayed in “Prayer for the Poisoned Man” is answered by the quiet faith of “Father, Hear Me Pray.” These songs aren’t accidental neighbors. They belong together. Listening to only one tells part of the story. Listening to all of them reveals the whole. Patience as an Artistic Choice Albums require something that modern music increasingly avoids. Patience. Patience from the songwriter. Patience from the musicians. Patience from listeners willing to experience an hour rather than three minutes. That patience rewards attention. Moments introduced early gain meaning later. Instrumentals become emotional transitions. Themes accumulate rather than repeat. Instead of asking listeners to consume content quickly, albums ask them to invest emotionally. That invitation feels increasingly uncommon. The Nashville Collaboration Another hallmark of Falle’s albums is the remarkable consistency of the musicians surrounding them. Producer Jonathan Yudkin has become more than a producer. He has become a musical architect, helping shape arrangements that complement rather than overwhelm the stories. Around him is an extraordinary group of Nashville musicians whose collective résumés span bluegrass, country, Americana, and popular music. Their contributions extend beyond technical excellence. Because many return from album to album, they provide continuity that listeners begin to recognize instinctively. The records develop a familiar musical language. Exactly as classic albums once did. Quietly Swimming Against the Current There is nothing commercially easy about building albums this way. They demand more writing. More arranging. More recording. More editing. More sequencing. More investment. Most importantly, they demand the confidence to believe listeners still want complete artistic statements. Falle appears to believe they do. Not because the marketplace insists upon it. Because the stories deserve it. Why Albums Still Matter Bluegrass has always depended upon storytellers. The genre survives because each generation finds new ways to preserve old voices while creating new ones. Albums have long been among its most powerful storytelling tools. They allow songs to breathe together. To challenge one another. To complete one another. Whether history ultimately places Marty Falle among the significant storytellers of his generation will be decided by listeners over time. What already seems clear, however, is that he continues working within a tradition many artists have quietly abandoned. He builds albums. Complete ones. In an age increasingly defined by fragments, that commitment feels almost radical. Listening From Beginning to End When Song of the Holler arrived on August 1, many listeners undoubtedly discovered favorite songs. Some will return to the coal camp ballads. Others will gravitate toward the gospel numbers. Still others will find themselves replaying the driving instrumentals. But the album itself asks for something increasingly rare. Don’t stop after the first track. Keep listening. Follow the characters. Notice the recurring ideas. Travel through the mountains. Walk beside the people who inhabit them. Because the destination isn’t one song. It’s the entire journey. And in the age of singles, that may be Marty Falle’s most distinctive artistic statement of all. https://www.martyfallemusic.com/

In the middle of the woods during the bleak days of winter, progressive-acoustic band High Horse got together and made a record. From a fiddle suite to Celtic, bluegrass, old time and even “jazz-grass” and indie rock influences, the record runs the gamut. Produced by notable mandolin player Jacob Joliff, the 2024 release was a great showcase of what this Boston-based quartet of classically trained musicians has to offer. The eponymously titled release featured 12 tracks of original compositions and covers, with musical diversity as its underlying keynote. “Everyone plays bluegrass and folk, and grew up with that, but we all come at it from different angles,” explained High Horse fiddle player and music composer, Carson McHaney. Included in the mix is use of the cello, played by bandmate Karl Henry. They are joined by musicians Noah Harrington (bass) and G Rockwell (guitar and banjo). The group strives to marry the “energy of alternative rock” to more organic and roots-oriented forms. “We’ve got this really low, or bass-heavy sound because we have a cello and a bass,” he said. “And what’s cool about having alternative instrumentation is that we have so many colors.” Those “colors” are painted by diverse folk traditions. McHaney said he grew up in northern California and was exposed to all sorts of music as a child. “My dad loved bluegrass, and we always had records spinning in the house,” he said. It was common to hear music by David Grisman, or the soundtrack to “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?” Another early influence was the “non-traditional” Boston-based outfit, Crooked Still. He said the influence of this group still affects High Horse today. “I remember seeing them at different west coast festivals,” he said. “They also had a cello.” While McHaney got his start in the world of classical music, he soon made the switch to a more roots-oriented approach. What High Horse does is too broad to pigeonhole – and the band itself describes the music as unclassifiable. It probably aligns most closely, however, with Americana. “I decided that my job opportunities are limited if only playing classical music,” he explained. “It’s been a through-line through my life, fiddle playing and music of all sorts.” McHaney said various acoustic styles appeal to him for one simple reason: It feels more “real.” “Acoustic instruments have no filter…it’s just human-to-human, through acoustic sound.” It’s not just the sound of everything unplugged that appeals to McHaney. It’s also the culture of the people who listen to it. “What’s amazing about bluegrass and folk music is how big this umbrella has become,” he said, noting that two top performers today are Del McCoury and Billy Strings. “They are so different but still have a lot in common.” Today, bluegrass is open and welcoming to all. “The music there [in bluegrass] is so inviting, and it invites so much individual and band creativity,” McHaney said, adding that he loves the “jamming tradition” and the “tradition of learning by ear.” High Horse just completed a month of touring in Colorado, and for the remainder of the year, will be “touring pretty much every month, or every other month.” McHaney said High Horse hopes to have new work available soon. In addition to having a live EP or two on the backburner, a new studio EP “should be coming out, possibly later this summer.” “I just think High Horse is a really exciting band,” McHaney summarized, “and I’m so excited to be a part of it.” https://www.highhorseband.com/

Bluegrass Goes To College It’s been said that the perfect college setting would be a good teacher on one end of a log and a student on the other. These days, it might take a Paul Bunyan-sized log to make room for the student union, rec center, stadium, and other “necessities” on almost any campus. But that nostalgic image does make a point. Beyond all the amenities of college life, learning really comes from the interaction of knowledgeable and caring teachers and talented and motivated students. Great teaching inspires not just a semester of classroom performance, but a commitment to life-long learning. Fortunately, that kind of education is available through practical college and university programs in Bluegrass, Old Time and Roots Music, and music business and performance. National & International Opportunities Nearly 50 American colleges and universities from 19 states—as well as three nations beyond our borders—provide options from full academic degrees to certificate programs and individual courses. Some host Bluegrass bands and ensembles, while others help students gain experience in songwriting, audio engineering, recording and broadcasting, and management and marketing. The Foundation of the International Bluegrass Music Association maintains a database of schools that offer Bluegrass degree programs, music groups, courses, and/or academic research opportunities. I’ve put these colleges and universities into a state-by-state list that you’ll find at the end of the column. To encourage talented young people to continue their professional development, IBMA members have started scholarship and financial aid programs. Many of these initiatives also honor leaders in the Bluegrass community—men and women whose accomplishments inspire all of us. Examples include the Mike Auldridge Memorial Scholarship; Terry Baucom Education Grant; Gloria Belle Memorial Scholarship; J.D. Crowe Banjo Scholarship; Katy Daley Broadcast Media/Sound Engineering Scholarship; Sally Ann Forrester Scholarship; Rick Lang Music Songwriter Scholarship; and, IBMA Bluegrass College Scholarship. World of Bluegrass Support At this year’s World of Bluegrass, coming up October 20-24 in Chattanooga, students will find several special events and opportunities. The College Band Showcase gives groups of young people a chance to entertain and sharpen their performance skills before an appreciative audience. Student jam sessions and networking receptions also will be part of the event in Chattanooga, and prospective students and their parents can join in information sessions to learn more about opportunities in higher education. Speaking of networking, faculty members also can share ideas at an educator’s luncheon. Students in college and university Bluegrass and music business programs can get their first year of IBMA membership free. After that, they can still enjoy discounted memberships while they’re enrolled. College-Level Studies Here’s that list of college-level studies in Bluegrass and music business. Go to bluegrassfoundation.org for the full spreadsheet that includes types of programs and school websites (or, in some cases, contact information for faculty members at those schools). The database is regularly updated, so schools that want to be added can do so by getting in touch with the IBMA Foundation. Alabama University of Alabama (Tuscaloosa, AL) California Concordia University-Irvine (Irvine, CA) Pomona College (Claremont, CA), Colorado Colorado College (Colorado Springs, CO) Georgia University of North Georgia (Dahlonega, GA) Indiana St. Meinrad School of Theology (St. Meinrad, IN) Iowa University of Iowa (Iowa City, IO) Kentucky Berea College (Berea, KY) Eastern Kentucky University (Richmond, KY) Kentucky School of Bluegrass & Traditional Music (Hyden, KY) Morehead State University (Morehead, KY) Owensboro Community and Technical College (Owensboro, KY) University of Kentucky (Lexington, KY) University of Louisville (Louisville, KY) Western Kentucky University (Bowling Green, KY) Louisiana University of Louisiana at Lafayette (Lafayette, LA) Massachusetts Berklee College of Music (Boston, MA) New York Sarah Lawrence College (Bronxville, NY) State University of New York-Plattsburgh, NY (Plattsburgh, NY) North Carolina Appalachian State University (Boone, NC) Guliford Technical Community College, (Jamestown, NC) University of North Carolina at Asheville, (Asheville, NC) University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, (Chapel Hill, NC) Warren Wilson College (Asheville, NC) Ohio Denison University (Granville, OH) Ohio State University (Columbus, OH) Oregon University of Oregon (Eugene, OR) South Carolina Clemson University (Clemson, SC) North Greenville University (Tigerville, SC) Tennessee Belmont University (Nashville, TN) Bethel University (McKenzie, TN) East Tennessee State University (Johnson City, TN) Middle Tennessee State University (Murfreesboro, TN) Pellissippi State Community College (Knoxville, TN) Roane State Community College (Harriman & Oak Ridge, TN) Tennessee Tech University (Cookeville, TN) Vanderbilt University (Nashville, TN) Volunteer State Community College (Gallatin, TN) Walters State Community College (Morristown, TN) Texas South Plains College (Levelland, TX) University of Texas at Austin (Austin, TX) Virginia Virginia Tech University (Blacksburg, VA) University of Virginia (Charlottesville, VA) Washington Shoreline College (Shoreline, WA) Wisconsin Lawrence University (Appleton, WI) International Higher Education Canada Memorial University of Newfoundland (St. John’s, NL) Japan Nagoya University (Nagoya, Japan) Uganda Makerere University (Kampala, Uganda)

Getting the chance to play with The Grascals and Joe Mullins and the Radio Ramblers is enough to make any picker happy—but if you ask guitarist and vocalist Chris Davis, going out on his own has brought newfound freedom. With the urging of his record label, Billy Blue Records, Davis, who spent years as a sideman, feels it was time for him to step into the spotlight. “For a long time, Billy Blue kept telling me, ‘Man, you need to do your own band.’ But my confidence level just wasn't there yet,” Davis shares. “I was enjoying what I was doing. Looking back, maybe I should have done it sooner, but when you're going through life, you're just doing the best you can.” The former Radio Rambler gained insight over the years. "I learned a lot from those bands,” Davis shares. “Every band I've worked with has been professional and had great harmonies. If there's one thing I took away from those experiences, it's that to entertain people at a high level, you have to have a great band behind you. You're only as good as your weakest link, and I always wanted to make sure I wasn't the weakest link." “I have complete creative control at this point,” says Davis, calling the shots. “And the label has been really good about that. I can record wherever I want, choose the songs, and shape the project the way I hear it. I love being able to say, ‘This is how I want to do it,’ while still making sure everyone in the band has a voice.” Davis feels working with Billy Blue Records is a solid choice. “I was with Joe Mullins for the last three and a half years prior … and he was signed with Billy Blue. So we did a lot of work for them. It's a really professional place—working with those cats has been really cool.” “A few labels were interested,” shares Davis. “To be in a position where you can choose a label that truly wants to work with you—that’s a blessing in itself! I knew Billy Blue Records had a solid reputation and was well established in what they do. "This is a whole new deal,” Davis explains. “There's a whole new catalog of music coming. We've got a duet in the works with a surprise female vocalist, and it could potentially be our next single. I'm excited about what we're creating and can't wait for people to hear it." His new single, “Jenna Lea” is already being well-received. "That song is a great little tune! It's one of those songs that makes you want to dance. It makes you want to bounce your shoulders up and down.” Davis explains the song’s lyrics, "It's about a young man who's in love with a girl and doesn't realize she's doing him wrong until the very end. That's really what the song is about, but it's a happy song with a twist." Davis assures his fans that there will be a mix of styles. "There are going to be some spiritual numbers on the album, and it's going to be the kind of bluegrass I love—songs that really speak to me." For those who might not be familiar, Davis is a third-generation bluegrass musician. Born and reared in Dayton, Ohio, Davis’s father, Danny Davis, and grandfather, Elzie Davis, were both part of the regional Ohio bluegrass circuit. “My grandpa was a fiddle player, and Dad was a multi-instrumentalist. Growing up around that music as a kid, it just hit a chord with me. Something about it stuck, and it's been driving me ever since." Davis’s experience playing in a band started early. "Playing in the family band taught me how to play dynamically and how to support whoever was taking a break. You didn't want to be fooling around on the microphone—you wanted to be the rhythm section and do your job. Learning how to keep time and support the music was one of the biggest lessons I ever learned." On carrying the family legacy forward "It absolutely carries weight. I know the passion my papa had and the passion my dad still has for this music. If it weren't for those guys, I wouldn't be doing this. They exposed me to it, and now it's been passed down to me, to my son Gibson, and to my youngest son Rylan." https://officialchrisdavismusic.com/

“Don’t just stand there with your teeth in your mouth!” That’s not only the good-natured exhortation Alan Bartram’s dad would offer as a reminder to get busy: it’s the first line of “Gas and Oil,” a song performed by the Travelin’ McCourys that’s gotten a lot of notice, airplay, and positive reaction at concerts. The song is Bartram’s reflection on the value of doing something challenging--in this case, cutting timber--with people one respects and loves. And the song’s staying power is evidence of Bartram’s emergence as a successful songwriter and lead singer. Bartram, who was born in West Virginia and grew up in rural New London Township in Pennsylvania (where they know a thing or two about cutting timber) plays bass in not one, but two of the most popular bluegrass acts in the business: The Del McCoury Band and The Travelin’ McCourys. He grew up in a family that played music, but something magical happened when he followed the advice of an uncle. “He said, ‘You need to go to a festival. You'll love it. There's lots of people to play with,’” Bartram recalls. “So I went to the Delaware Valley Bluegrass Festival in 1995 and got completely hooked. That was definitely a pivotal moment, and that really focused me on playing bluegrass.” Still in high school, Bartram played guitar with 2nd Edition, a band he helped form. He switched to bass when a bandmate left. The band continued to get more gigs and more notice. A job filling in on bass for The Gibson Brothers on a ten-day Canadian tour was a confidence boost. “That's a really nice feeling. Someone else wanted me to play in their band. That was the first time I'd played with another band. Eric and Lee Gibson were very important mentors to me and the rest of the band.” Shortly after 2nd Edition went out of circulation (fellow member Justin Carbone would take a job playing with Special Consensus) Bartram, who had two degrees in horticulture and always figured he would work in that field, nevertheless followed his passion and moved to Nashville. “This was in 2003, and it was really affordable then,” says Bartram. “And there was a new crop of bluegrass musicians moving to town. And I got to meet so many influential people. The bluegrass community is relatively small, and so it's pretty easy to meet the big dogs--you know, the people who can really make a huge difference in your musical career.” He got to know Mike Bub, his predecessor on bass in The Del McCoury Band. He filled in with Ronnie Bowman and The Committee. Then he spent two years playing with Kenny and Amanda Smith. He not only gained valuable experience on this steady gig--he met and married Amanda’s sister, Kristina. Bartram had filled in on bass with The Del McCoury band a few times--including playing on The Grand Ole Opry--before he was offered the full-time job in 2005. Four years later he also joined The Traveling McCourys, a new band fronted by Del’s sons Ronnie and Robbie. The bands have separate catalogs, tour schedules, and sounds. Bartram says playing in both units is challenging. “It's definitely different. I don't know if I consciously switch approaches for each, but they are different entities with different material and different production. But it's an easy switch. It's not like I have to really get in kind of a particular headspace to do it.” Though he wrote “Gas and Oil” by himself, Bartram often co-writes with artists such as fellow bassist Jon Weisberger or fiddler/singer/bandleader Becky Buller. “Shaker,” a song Bartram wrote with Buller, offers a vivid, unique perspective on the John Henry tale told by the man who held and rotated his drill. “Careful with that hammer, my life is in your hands!” the shaker admonishes John Henry in the song. “I always thought the shaker never got enough attention, and I didn't know what a shaker was,” Bartram says about the origins of the song. “And so through research, I figured out, well, this guy's kind of a badass.” Bartram’s bucket list might be nearly full. In addition to The Opry, he’s played Telluride, Bonaroo, Carnegie Hall, DelFest, and collaborated with The Preservation Hall Jazz band, among many others. He might be interested in a solo project one day, but touring with two bands and raising a family doesn’t leave a lot of bandwidth. One of his off-the-clock passions calls to mind the timber cutting he unromantically details in “Gas and Oil” and his training as a horticulturalist. “I’ve got seven acres of land here where we live. Maybe an acre and a half of it is lawn, and the rest I kind of keep as a controlled meadow, I would call it. I try to encourage the native plants and discourage the non-natives. You can never really kind of win that battle, but you can try. And so it's a really great habitat for turkey and deer and hopefully quail. I did have a quail here last year, but I don't think he stuck around. But, that'd be pretty cool if I could somehow manage to carry some bobwhite quail here. They're getting pretty rare.” https://www.instagram.com/alanbartrambass/

The Wee Farm is currently beaming, sporting all the colors of spring on this land Farmer Rick (my long-suffering husband, lol) and I love so much. The knockout roses are actually showing off with bright reds and pinks bursting all over this place. Here’s an interesting observation from a Goat Girl Gone Cat Crazy (that would be me…I nickname everyone on or associated with the Wee Farm Musings). I am not a natural nature girl, preferring the indoor comfort where flying insects and atrocious heat will not zap me. I was also raised by an Italian father who poured concrete for a living with my brothers. I really didn’t have to worry about dirt so much because my Little Daddy (the nickname I always called my sweet daddy) loved pouring concrete on anything flat. We just usually hosed off the backyard and Mom planted flowers and tomatoes in pots. Dirt, fields, all these animals making noises and looking at me from fences butting up to our farm were the very things that would fill my nightmares as a young girl. I would have never dreamed of living in the conditions I live in now, but that was the old me, the one raised in the city in my early years, and the one who lived in Nashville proper for 31 years after I moved away from home where, in both places, I would leave the air conditioner on ice and have the nerve to complain if a fly made it into the house. The new me has had to overcome countless fears to make the Wee Farm my beloved dwelling. I’ve had to accept the fact that I’m only a visitor to the things that have called this place home far longer than me. That would include an assortment of snakes, lizards and insects who look like they want to take me out of the game of sanity…whew. Over the 9 years we’ve called these acres home, I have healed myself of such phobias just through sheer exhaustion and the willingness to give up worrying as a result and guess what? Nothing here is so intent on bothering me. These creepy crawlies, these winged fleets of terror, they’re just trying to get to the next day like I am. I don’t swat at them, and they don’t dive-bomb me; we live in relative peace…until cicadas and horseflies come around…that’s when I run in screaming. One of the miracles of embracing farm living is the quiet contemplation and elementary study of things that catch my eye and heart these last years. All the color popping up in strange places here leaves me in an incredible state of wonder. Sometimes the back 6 acres will be covered up in yellow flowers, and they are gorgeous. I made the mistake once of running through them as if it were a slow-motion, sappy scene with my arms outstretched and twirling around in a flowy dress while imagining the track of The Sound of Music. The romance of that run ended horribly when Farmer Rick had to spend the better part of an hour pulling ticks off of me as I tried hard not to faint. Another part of each year the back three acres turn into what looks like an ocean of white caps where, on closer inspection, tiny white flowers take over the tall grasses waving in the wind. I did manage to get my farm darling to snap a few pictures of me there in our lovely field. Of course, that cost me too because I found out what chiggers were…disaster struck again. I got them in places where chiggers should never roam, and I was so freaked out I could hardly function until they were gone. Oh, and this Wee Farm is riddled with slabs of limestone deposited here and there. The first time we walked the land while we were in the process of buying it, I noticed the flat stones were covered in purple flowers with flat, waxen greenery underneath. In fact, the rocks looked like this colorful ground cover was crawling across the tops and adding eye candy to these ancient stones as it brought great joy to me…again, an unexpected beauty. Of course, my logical and mountain-raised husband, Farmer Rick, tells me all these flowers are just weeds. Weeds! What? Then I remembered once when my Little Daddy chose to give a huge pig roast on his lovely place in Virginia and invite, oh, about 300 or 400 folks, give or take. Little Daddy and I had the best time coming up with decor. We went to his farmer friend and got lots of bales of hay to decorate the stage that would hold a sassy local bluegrass band. Then he laid out wood on the grass and made a large dance floor for a hired group called The Flatland Cloggers to perform their dances. For the tents and large building holding all the food and tables, we used newspaper as tablecloths and mason jars filled with (now I know but I didn’t at the time) WEEDS! Little Daddy and I took the earliest part of the morning the day of the party to pluck hundreds from fields near his place. We might have trespassed and borrowed the flowers, sniff. We had the funniest time ever, giggling as we filled our baskets up with purple and white and yellow. I thought they were wildflowers…sigh. I loved our tables. They were perfect. After my cousin told me they were weeds and deflated my decorating efforts, I got to thinking, beauty is really in the eye of the beholder, and I think some weeds are downright beautiful. Thinking even deeper, God must have loved the weeds enough to make them pretty, and He topped them up with gentle color! There, me and God love colorful weeds. When Farmer Rick took me to meet his Clinch Mountain grandmother for the first time (he uses the endearing term, “Mamaw”), we traversed scary, curvy mountain roads with no guardrails to stop us from careening off into the unknown…but, after much screaming on my part, we got there. Once I caught my breath, and we pulled up to this old farmhouse, I spied a woman navigating a HUGE boulder to the left of her home. It took my breath away. For there stood this gray rock as tall as a house with the prettiest, most vibrant display of flowers spreading over it and this slight woman with a precious apple face and a shock of white hair waving frantically at us from among all the colors. Yep, Mamaw made a flower garden right there on that granite and worked it daily. I was blown away. So blown away I had to write about it. She would always tell us, “Don’t bring no store-bought flowers to my funeral! Go find me some wild Queen Anne’s Lace and lay it over my grave!” Mamaw loved the weeds, too! She loved all the wild mountain flowers and would fill up baskets of them to add delicate life to the hard living on top of that mountain. Well, it’s all now recorded in a song called “Are You Pickin’ Flowers Now” by yours truly! Don’t let weeds fool ya! They come with their own brand of beauty, a sign that you can never judge something from the surface, but you can certainly appreciate what you see. Color me a happy girl who picks the field flowers as she dances through the weeds. Until next time… Donna Ulisse donnaulisse.com

“Rrinaco is the place for the full picture of who I am as an artist,” says Corrina Rose Logston Stephens. The project gives the multi-instrumentalist and singer-songwriter freedom to focus on two things she loves—words and music. For some High Fidelity fans, her new album Little Songs might be a bit of a surprise. “People hear my name and expect traditional bluegrass,” explains Stephens. “The Rrinaco music is definitely that—but it's also much more. It's my creative expression and everything I've brought to the table throughout my life.” Rrinaco represents another side of Stephens’ artistry. With High Fidelity, we’re really intentional about feeling authentic, particularly to the 1950s and early ’60s. That’s our bull’s-eye target,” Stephens explains. “We create constraints for ourselves. We ask, 'How do we keep this feeling like that era?’ Even when we’re doing newer music, we’re always trying to evoke that sound.” “With Rrinaco, it's a free-for-all. I've got the kitchen to myself. I’ve got all the ingredients at my disposal. What do I want to make today?” Jesse McReynolds’ Lasting Influence on Rrinaco Stephens performed regularly as a fiddler and harmony vocalist for Jesse McReynolds & the Virginia Boys. “As I got to know Jesse, I started sharing more of my own music with him. He listened to my Wind Caught My Bike record, and he had nothing but encouraging things to say. He told me, ‘You need to be doing that music.’” “Getting to be around Jesse—his creativity, his influence, and his encouragement—was unbelievable. He became a mentor to me.” The Lord of the Rings connection “When I got married, people were calling me Corrina Logston Stephens, Corrina Stephens, Corrina Rose Stephens—there were all these different versions of my name. I wanted something definitive.” “It was actually a nickname I had in middle school,” Stephens remembers. “We were into The Lord of the Rings and wanted to learn Elvish. It wasn't really Elvish—it was a coding system we used where the first two letters went to the end of the word. So ‘Corrina’ became ‘Rrinaco,’ and it just stuck.” “It sounded really catchy, and I remember thinking, 'Rrinaco—that's my artist name.’ I'd forgotten about it for years, but when I started thinking about how I wanted to brand my music, it came back to me.” “I knew it would take time for people to understand what it was, but it felt like the right long-term move,” Stephens explains. Beyond Bluegrass “I've always loved old movies and people like Judy Garland—that whole era where big-band music and Hollywood came together. I love those old crooners with stride piano. I’ve always loved that style.” “‘Voice of the Southland’ is actually a Gene Austin song,” explains Stephens. “I discovered it through Freddie Rose of Acuff-Rose Publishing. Before he was in the music business, Freddie was a solo artist who played piano and sang. I just love that kind of music.” “That style filled a gap in the record because I didn't have an original song that represented that part of my musical interests. My mom always told me, ‘You really need to record “Voice of the Southland,’” so I finally did.” Her husband, High Fidelity co-founder Jeremy Stephens, plays guitar on the song. “Jeremy and I used to feature ‘Voice of the Southland’ in our duet show, with him playing the guitar part in that Merle Travis-style. Jeremy’s playing guitar on the whole record.” “I’d always loved singing that song just for recreation, and Jeremy and I would perform it as a duet before I ever recorded it.” Rrinaco Takes the Stage Fans have the opportunity to see more of Rrinaco live. “This is definitely something I want to have alongside the other shows I'm doing. This spring we did a short run, and this September I'm doing another. I'm excited to see where it goes.” “I’d encourage people to keep up with me on social media, my website, and everything I’m doing with Rrinaco,” says Stephens. I'm really trying to build a good body of work with videos and other creative content.” Stephens enjoys hearing from fans. “I’ll still hear people say, ‘I love hearing you do your bluegrass,’ and I do too—I still love bluegrass,” shares Stephens. “But when these songs connect with people, it’s usually much deeper than someone simply saying they liked them. They’ll tell me that the songs really spoke to them, and that’s incredibly inspiring.” https://www.corrinacorrina.com/

At this year's IBMA World of Bluegrass festival, many will gather to see the top acts perform, along with rising showcase artists, the annual awards, instrument trade shows, and jam sessions to satisfy even the most ardent bluegrass fan. Boner, a former IBMA Board Chair and longtime board member, is known throughout the bluegrass community for his musical versatility. As the director of East Tennessee State University's Bluegrass, Old-Time, and Roots Music Studies program, Boner is deeply invested in sustaining bluegrass. “As a university professor, we're expected not only to teach but also to do service to the industry and to the profession,” Boner explains. A Career Built on Many Hats The South Jersey native Boner assumes many roles, including educator, performing artist, recording engineer, record producer, and audio equipment designer. “One thing that keeps my job exciting is the diversity,” says the former guitarist for the Becky Buller Band. “Ultimately, I need to be involved playing and making music, producing, engineering, and being creative in a way that really feeds me.” One of his greatest joys is mentoring the next generation. “I love what the IBMA does for kids in bluegrass. I love to see the jam programs and school programs because that's kind of the heart of how this music has been passed along.” Boner says he is optimistic. “The quality of students who come to ETSU is remarkable. They're capable, intelligent, and incredibly interested. This Gen Z generation has a humbleness about its approach and a real sense of collegiality. They like working together, and I think they’re going to do incredible things with our music. They’re already doing it.” Leading the ETSU Bluegrass Pride Band, the university’s premier student bluegrass ensemble, Boner guides young musicians through performance, recording, and professional preparation. Boner extends his commitment beyond the classroom. “I love to get students involved in the creative process,” shares the professor. He also coordinates the IBMA College Band Showcase, connecting student musicians with the larger bluegrass community. “The College Band Showcase is really a pinnacle for our students because they get to perform on one of the big stages... People, not only from IBMA but also from the community, get to see what we’re doing in higher education.” Chasing Sound When he’s not designing audio equipment, teaching, or performing on stage, Boner spends his time moving dials on a mixing console. "I love working with artists who care deeply about their sound,” says the producer and recording engineer. “They spend decades refining every detail—from strings and picks to vocal delivery—and my job is to put the right microphone in front of that and faithfully capture what they're creating.” Boner not only captures sound, but he also creates it. “I’ve spent the last ten years designing and building my own preamps, compressors, and EQs because I wanted them to sound a certain way. I chose the components and circuit designs that produce the sound I'm looking for.” Quality matters. “Working with great recording tools makes the whole experience better. It’s like being a woodworker—if you've got really nice tools, they help you do your job better.” Recording the Salem Oak Project Much like the craftsmanship in his audio equipment, Boner’s attention to detail extends to history. “I have a brand-new project centered on the Salem Oak in Salem County, New Jersey. The tree fell in 2019 after standing for nearly 600 years. I’ve had three guitars commissioned from its wood, and we recently recorded five songs and tunes inspired by Salem County's history.” “I played those guitars on the recording,” Boner shares. “They were all built from the Salem oak itself. It’s really remarkable. There are two dreadnoughts and a parlor guitar, and each one has its own unique voice. They’re incredible instruments.” Boner says the Salem Oak project will feature some of his colleagues. “We brought Tim Stafford, Ruth and Raymond McLain, the Burnett Sisters Band, Ben Bateson, and Gary Allan into the studio to record these songs.” “The project will be an album and a video documentary series—a multimedia release that combines the recording sessions with videos exploring the history of southern New Jersey.” Looking Back—and Ahead “Every day, I'm grateful to be at East Tennessee State University doing what I do. The people who gave me this opportunity changed my life, and I don’t ever want to take that for granted.” “I'm proud of the relationships I’ve built and the people I’ve been blessed to work with through the years. More than anything, I’m grateful to have made a career in the kind of music that I love.” https://professordansmusic.com/

Some of the very best bluegrass songs happen when a man pours out his heart for all to see. It’s deep. It’s meaningful. And often…it’s written by a woman! This dynamic – of listeners thinking a man was behind a song because a male performed it – is what motivated acclaimed bluegrass artist Lindsay Lou to create something that honors women songwriters. This 10-track record released in August was simply titled: Bluegrass Women. The fact that she was able to get artists and friends such as Molly Tuttle and Sierra Hull onboard shows how important her message is to fellow female performers. That message, in a nutshell, is that women have always played a role in shaping bluegrass. Whether that role was fulfilled behind the scenes or while standing right in front of the mic, it’s always been there. “I wanted to make a collection of songs that were written by women in bluegrass over time,” Lindsay Lou said. “Maybe people didn’t realize it was written by a woman, because they were sung by a man.” An example she gave is “Freight Train,” which was penned by Elizabeth Cotten. Or, she said we’ll hear Tim O’Brien singing “I’ve Endured” and think, “Oh, that’s a Tim O’Brien song.” Most people will never know what he was singing was written by Ola Belle Reed. Lou said when these familiar songs are recreated on the album by women, it changes things for the listener. “The song takes on a whole new life in the way the song ‘Respect’ took on a whole new life when Aretha Franklin sings it,” she said. Tuttle and Hull are not the only recognizable names who contribute to the record. The list of participants also includes Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan, Alison Brown, Laurie Lewis, Courtney Hartman, and more. This powerful roster of collaborators went into the studio in March. Lou was joined there by her friends and inspirations, and the result is what she described as “sort of like magic.” Lou co-produced the record with Shani Gandhi, who also provided the engineering and the mixing. “All of the women on the record are people who have had a direct influence on me and my journey,” Lou said. “They all inspired me.” In the case of Tuttle, Lou said Tuttle and friend Billy Strings were roommates who lived “right across the street from me.” They started doing “porch sessions” of making music. Most of the tunes were covers from Operation Ivy or Joni Mitchell. They’d post them to YouTube. “We also had this cat that sort of lived between the two houses,” she added. “Molly and I have a sweet bond.” She said she has a friendship – or a close working professional relationship – with all the women featured on the record. “I did some touring with Sierra Hull a couple of years ago,” Lou said. “She’s become a really dear, sweet friend.” Lou said since she’s been touring and making records for over 15 years, this album feels not just like a full-circle moment that it includes so many of her personal inspirations, but also it also feels “earned.” Her recent debut appearance this summer at the Grand Ole Opry is another one of those full-circle earned moments for a hard-working singer-songwriter. Lou shows – over and over – that she is truly one of the hard-working, standout “Bluegrass Women.” https://www.lindsayloumusic.com/

For the young members of the DellaValla Trio, building a career in the biz requires full immersion in the bluegrass scene. For these talented teens, experiencing the recent annual SPBGMA convention for the very first time was a great way to dig deeply into the music and culture they love so much. “We went mainly to support friends, to learn, and to jam our hearts out,” explained Joseph DellaValla, 17-year-old banjo player and vocalist for the family group. “We’ve been genuinely surprised by the connections that came out of just being there. We’ve had dozens of new folks follow us on Instagram or connect in other ways, and some from around the country have reached out about possibly playing together. That’s been really exciting, honestly, and pretty unexpected.” His 14-year-old brother, John – who brings mandolin, fiddle, and vocals to the trio – joined him on the trip. John explained why events such as SPBGMA are vital. “It feels a bit like stepping into a parallel universe, where everyone speaks the same language you do,” he said. “It’s not a typical festival; it’s more like a sprawling, multi‑floor bluegrass village that springs up inside a hotel for a long weekend. As first‑timers, we walked into the hotel and were immediately hit by the sound of overlapping jam circles tucked into every hallway, stairwell and open space.” “The jamming never really stops,” he continued. “Before long, we found ourselves pulled into circles with people we’d never met who treated us like old friends. Even the well‑known musicians felt surprisingly approachable, wandering around with their instruments, happy to chat or jump into a tune. By the second day, the hotel felt like its own little universe, where time blurred, meals were optional, and friendships formed faster than we expected.” In a comment that seems wise beyond his years, John added: “Being in that environment, surrounded by so many great players, bands and industry people, definitely lit a fire under us. These experiences are both humbling and super inspirational, because you realize that whatever amount of talent and success you may have, there are ten other people who are even better than you and just as deserving.” Hailing from Jackson, New Hampshire, they’ve been honing their skills since they were little kids. Along with their sister – 19-year-old guitarist and vocalist, Molly – they first started playing for others when they’d appear at venues that are really quite forgiving for youthful beginners. “We visited our local nursing homes and adult day centers regularly for singalongs,” Molly explained. “Since we formed as a band, we have continued to play monthly at most of them. In the past decade that has been, I think, in the hundreds. They are some of our favorite gigs because many of the guests have watched us grow up and put up with us when we were not very good. They forgive us when we make mistakes and sing along with their whole hearts. Now that we have gotten bigger, they come to our shows, and they will even bring friends and family. They root for us like we are their own.” In 2022, they first performed in public as a proper bluegrass band. They appeared at an open mic night, then were offered a regular restaurant gig. Soon, they made a guest appearance on a local radio variety show. “We’ve played at lots of restaurants, and we try to play at as many fundraisers and community events as possible,” Joseph said. “Probably the most memorable experience we’ve had performing has been opening for the Clements Brothers at Stone Mountain Arts Center in Maine. Then, this last November, being invited back to headline by ourselves. We can remember seeing Bela Fleck there and thinking that we really would have ‘made it’ if we could ever get to be up there. “Honestly, it was better than imagined,” he added. Molly recounted one of her favorite gigs of their past, an appearance for The Cold River Radio Show, at The Majestic Theater in Conway, New Hampshire. It was a sold-out show, and they’d rehearsed Danny Barnes’ version of Don Stover’s “Black Diamond.” “John had practiced Jason Carter’s solo, but he was still pretty little and it was like, when the spot for the solo came, it seemed the whole crowd collectively held their breath,” Molly reminisced. “Admittedly, Joseph and I did, too.” She said she could see her mom and dad in the front row, and “they were frozen while they waited to see if he could get through it!” “When he did it, everyone went crazy,” she said. “And then they did the same thing for ‘Randy Lynn Rag.’ Then when Joseph came out on his own to play the John Henry Medley with his Keith Tuners, people got rowdy. I think at one point someone threw a hat up in the air.” Other favorite gigs include appearing on the Stage Too! at Ossipee Valley Strings Festival; Yale’s Family Weekend; and Maine’s The Fryeburg Fair, at which they’ve performed five times. Upcoming shows include some big events. In June, they’re slated for the Main Stage at the Market Days Festival in Concord, New Hampshire. They’ll also be on the Main Stage for the Labor Day event, The Crooked River Gathering. Right now, the DellaValla Trio is in the middle of mixing their very first record. “That project became this sort of time capsule of the last few years…the places we played, the people who showed up for us, all the little inside jokes that somehow turned into setlist staples,” Molly said. “Most of it is covers of songs we’ve loved playing together – and that remind us of growing up together – but Joseph slipped in a few originals that really tie the whole thing together.” Joseph is also working on his own solo project, which he said gives him “space to experiment and figure out what my own writing or recording voice might sound like in the future.” When asked about where the trio might be in the future, John presented more wisdom. “We’re not trying to rush anything,” he said. “We just want to play. This album made sense because of where we were in our lives and how we wanted to mark the time. We’re really just starting out, and there’s a lot more we need to learn.” “The main goal right now is to keep playing, keep learning, and soak up as much as we can for as long as we get to do this,” he added. “We’re lucky to have gotten to do this much in such a kind community.” https://www.dellavallatrio.com/

She’s as hot as Tabasco sauce, and as smooth as a glass of good whiskey. With one foot in South Louisiana and one in Nashville, Sara Douga is keeping her musical traditions intact while running an indie career. Her second album, Woman Out of Me, was released on May 26. She’s a music businesswoman who wrote most of the songs, put together a band of A-list Nashville musicians, and self-produced the album at Starstruck Studios. A Solid Beginning Sara grew up in Lake Charles, Louisiana, where she wrote her first song at the age of eight. “I was getting ready for school, and I could hear it in my head. Intuitively, I knew I had to write it down.” She played in a local casino when she was 15, and at 16, Sara recorded her first release. “I’m not sure what gets you into it, but I know it gets into you.” While she loved music, Sara had other aspirations. “I attended McNeese State University, where I earned a B.S. in Natural Resource Conservation Management.” In other words, Sara was as happy in a swamp as she was on stage. After college, she interned with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service and served with the Texas Coastal Fisheries Department. While she was an outdoors girl, Sara still loved performing. “I worked for a while at a private hunting club where I assisted clients by day and sang in the lounge at night.” Sara recounted a time she was catching gators as part of her job.“Gator catching is something that has to be done between 1am and 3am,” she explains. “On one particular night, it was pitch-black dark. Someone was driving the airboat, and I was lying chest-down on the bow of the boat as it glided through the water. When we saw a gator’s eyes shining, we slowed way down, and I grabbed it by the neck to pull it into the boat. My job then was to put a rubber band with a tracking tag around its mouth.” That night, the gator nipped her finger. “It was really no big deal, but they made me go to the emergency room, get a tetanus shot, and I had to take antibiotics.” While she enjoyed her work outdoors, her heart wasn’t in it enough to make it her forever career. “I had loved music for so long, I finally decided to follow my heart.” So in 2019, she packed her bags and moved to Nashville. “It was something I always knew I would do, and Jim Lauderdale opened the gate for me to get in.” While it can be a tough town for a musician to navigate, Sara made herself at home in Nashville. A single mom of two (daughter Catherine (9) and son Caius (11), Sara taught middle school science and has served as a guest host on Bill Cody’s morning show on WSM. “I did it when he was sick,” says Sara. “It was hard to hear that he passed away. Bill will be missed by many.” The Jim Lauderdale Connection When Sara met industry veteran Jim Lauderdale, he liked what she was doing. “We began collaborating a bit, and he invited me to make a debut guest appearance at the Grand Ole Opry. That was my first gig when I moved to town.” Jim has recorded five songs that he and I co-wrote,” says Sara. “He has introduced me to so many people and helped open doors for me.” First, Write the Song Sara has developed into a talented songwriter. “I was invited to be a solo songwriter for a festival in Lafayette, Louisiana, as part of the mayor’s initiative called “Create Lafayette,” designed to get a better music scene by paying artists good wages.” She wrote songs in England at Chris Difford’s songwriting retreat, thanks to a Buddy Holly Educational Foundation scholarship. Sara enjoys songwriting competitions, collaborations, and teaching others to write songs. Without the songwriter, the song wouldn’t exist. Sara has been invited to write for several artists, including Louise Goffin (daughter of Carole King and Gerry Goffin), Sterling Drake, and Brennen Leigh. “Also the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys,” she says. “I’ll have two songs on their next album.” Australian artist Ella Hooper recorded two songs that she and Sara co-wrote, “Old News” and “Small Town Temple.” Hooper’s Small Town Temple album debuted at #1 on the ARIA Country Charts. Woman Out of Me In her second full-length album, Woman Out of Me, Sara isn’t afraid to express her truth. She is a Cajun-raised child of South Louisiana and all the influences that go with it. “I have always loved my culture – we are survivors. So country, and so Cajun, the people in Louisiana are resilient and strong. I come from a cowboy town with world champion cowboys and Olympians. I’m inspired by the people of my home state.” Her Louisiana roots are front and center on the album. As a matter of fact, she sings two of the songs in French. “My grandmother spoke French during a time when kids were dropping out of school in South Louisiana for speaking French,” says Sara. “I have sung back vocals for a Cajun band, and I used to sing in French at wedding masses and at funerals. It’s part of the Cajun culture that I want to see carried on.” She does a Zachary Richard tune on the album called Bella Louisiane, and a revival of the late Aime Comeaux’s “Who’s She to You,” which Sara says is a hat tip to the women of Louisiana. When putting together the song list for the album, Sara says she wanted to tell the listeners a full story. The record starts with a song about staying in a relationship too long, overcoming it, and leaving, before finding her true self. “I’m really proud of this album,” says Sara. She should be. It’s like a delicious bowl of gumbo – good to the very end. https://www.saradouga.com/

Perception sure can be sneaky on a beautiful day. Wily clouds and shifty blue skies cannot be trusted to tell your eyes the truth. I knew that pretty lie on some level as I held the perfect cup of coffee while gazing out my kitchen window one morning a few days back. I went so far as to have a “Snow White” moment, wanting to start humming a cheerful melody and twirl around, letting my princess dress swing out as little forest creatures danced around my feet because everything looked picture perfect and I couldn’t wait to be part of it. As I contemplated what I might put on my list of things to get done, my sleepy man joined me at the window and in a groggy voice announced it would be a scorcher of a day. I realized in that moment how that undetectable element couldn’t touch me as I stood there in my cool house looking out on the fields where the cows were grazing and the goats were jumping. It looked doggone delightful from my point of view, that was until I opened our back door. Shew, at seven in the morning, the wall of heat greeting me was hard to describe, just an unnatural feeling. In fact, my dear husband, lovingly nicknamed Farmer Rick, smiled slyly, reflecting the “I told you so” message as he asked if I wanted some ice cubes in my coffee cup. I slowly turned back inside where the dream of picture perfect was now distorted by the blast of hell I just experienced and pulled out my plan B to do list, gearing it toward inside tasks. As the day moved on and the hands on the clock ticked smugly into the afternoon hours, the light filtering through the window started changing. Of course, the best weather detector on the planet started pawing at my leg. Ginger Bread, our gentle pup, is deathly afraid of storms and deems it her job to make sure I can never enjoy a good storm for worrying about her puppy anxiety. Farmer Rick never mentioned the chance of a downpour, so I wasn’t prepared to see the tempest kicking up with complete abandonment just beyond the walls. I mean, the trees suddenly looked like they were bent sideways. Limbs, big limbs, were snapping off the poplar and maples and falling into the road in front of our house. The flowerpots on our patio went screaming into the yard as the cushions from our chairs took to the air. CRACK, the sound scared Ginger Bread into her next doggy lifetime as she frantically took off in a dead run down the hall. The brilliant lightning fell in straight lines, crooked warning for the thunderous sounds right on its heels as the rain fell in sheets so thick we couldn’t see beyond the water wall. I wish I had thought about filming it because this storm was WILD. My farm darling and his Goat Girl Gone Cat Crazy (that would be me) went from the front door to the back door and back to the front door, watching as the sky raged. Yep, it was like something out of a disaster movie. As I waited to see if trees would fall, my ever-quipping husband announced the heatwave would break as a result, and that meant I could help him clean up the debris when the rain stopped…Glory, just what I wanted to do. Oh, and of course to make it the perfect storm, our power went off, too. Immediately I thought of that hideous heat I felt during the morning hours and wondered how on earth we would make it without our air conditioning. Lawdy, the day had turned nightmarish. The power didn’t stay out long, and the winds finally died down. When the sky started sporting fluffy white clouds again and Ginger Bread pulled herself out from under our bed, we all went out to assess the damage and spent the next four hours picking up debris scattered all over the place. The big limbs we pulled out of the road were too large to break up; we left them in the front yard until they got a little chainsaw action. The tin roof on our goat shed needed nailing back down, but for the most part, things were amazingly alright. The day went places I never saw coming with that first glimpse of the morning, but suddenly the air felt wonderful - free of humidity and about twenty degrees cooler. Yeah, there was a complete mess to clean up, and the looks of the trees were different as a result, but we were safe. As I stood there thanking The Good Lord for seeing us through the storm, I thought how the weather was very much like my life. You knew I was gonna go there, right? It’s the truth. Everything can seem hunky dory, smooth sailing, and then some freak gust of wind blows in from nowhere and has a heart dealing with things it never saw coming. We weather all kinds of storms as we greet another day, but we are conditioned to roll like the clouds because there really isn’t another choice; we have to deal with life and all its gloriously unpredictable elements. I think often about what my grandfather told me years ago: “we don’t grow through the good times as fast as we grow through the bad times”…true that! These days, with the gray I see in my hair and the laugh lines branching around my eyes, I feel like an old oak tree, tall and reaching for the sky. I’m thankful for all the debris I’ve had to clean up throughout my years. Each broken limb carries a memory or lesson I needed to experience. I might look different after each storm as a result of losing a few limbs and a lot of leaves, but my roots are holding me in place, and my foundation has me sprouting out with new growth. I know the hardest storms are still ahead of me, but because of my faith in something bigger than I am, I stand the heavy rains with a surety that the storms will pass, and even when the ultimate storm hits, I will feel gentle breezes and enjoy a new day. There, I said it! Until next time… Donna Ulisse donnaulisse.com