Morning's cup of tea

I have a somewhat battered infuser - the kind that looks like a measuring cup. It's been camping with me and exactly fits my camping mug. This morning, I pull it out, and tip a scant teaspoon of Earl Grey in, then just smell the leaves, all brown and small at the bottom of the mesh cup. Mmmm. Citrus and tea...

And then, the magic of hot water from the coffeemaker, and slowly, those small brown leaves bloom, become soft and full, transforming and being transformed by the water. My scant teaspoon of dry leaves is now a plump tablespoon of glistening tea leaves, and there are more colors - various shades of reddish brown with hints of green, and even one leaf that is now a sort of celadon.

The light is returning, the new year coming, and I have a beautiful cup of tea. May the new year be filled with such pleasures for us all.

I'm back.

Caught up on my rest some after the grand train adventure. We wound up going sleeper car both ways, and it was lovely. While the "roomette" accomodations are indeed tiny (there was essentially no room for more than my husband's messenger bag, my small handwork bag, our coats and our two selves), they were plenty comfortable, with room to stretch out a little, a fold-out table, and a tiny closet. Meals were included, and while the selection was limited (it might be difficult to maintain a strict diet for more than a day on board), the service was prompt and the food reasonably tasty.

And they provided a space to go for quiet. While we enjoyed meeting many people over meals, it was also nice to be able to go to our own space and shut the door. In the dining car, we met train enthusiasts, a Katrina relief worker and his wife travelling to relatives, a professional dancer on vacation, a woman travelling to a school reunion and other interesting people.

I think if I were travelling with children, the train would have to be my first choice - on our way out, there were two infants on the same car with us, and a family with children. Unlike air travel, there were no major pressure adjustments, even as we travelled through the Appalachian mountains, since we mostly rode along the valleys. There was room to move about for the older children, and even my husband and I found ourselves practically glued to the windows, stopping only to sleep and eat.

The scenery was fabulous: from rolling hills and tumbling rivers to the vast open expanses of the Plains. At night, we found ourselves watching the Christmas decorations flow by. One house was plainly waiting for the train, because as we passed, they blinked the lights and waved to us. On the way back, we were able to tell when we passed the Eastern Great Divide, simply by watching the waters beside us - and watching the Potomac turn from a tiny mountain stream to the churning whitewater near Harper's Ferry was incredible.

Frequently, we found ourselves saying, "That town looks interesting. Can you tell where we are?" We were grateful for local businesses, because they often incorporate the name of the area, or prominant local features. Also, they were often nicer to look at.

As we left Chicago, we passed a large shipping yard and were simply blown away by the volume of freight containers - One part, we weren't sure - was that a warehouse made of freight containers, or simply a stack? We found ourselves thinking about the incredible wealth of a nation that produces those vast yards of food and goods. How can it be possible that we have created a system where so many lack basic heathcare? How could that happen?

Frequently, especially in some of those small towns, or along the rocky gorges of the Appalachians, we found ourselves wishing we could somehow both ride the train to see what comes next, and also that we could get out and explore the treasures that we passed...

I guess what I'm saying is... Wow, what a ride!

The joys of public transit

My legs ache from the uphill walk to Metro this morning and my shoulders are complaining of the hike last night with a banjo. And if I'd just give in, I could walk a couple of blocks from my office and have a car again while I wait for mine to get out of the shop. Instead I'm considering taking Metro on Thursdays anyway, even once the car is repaired, at least while the weather is so nice.

If that consideration were based solely on my wish to help the environment, it would likely be a tough sell to my aching limbs, I confess, but there are other compensations, even aside from the slow toning my legs are getting.

Yesterday, as I went to pick up the card that would allow me to use the Zipcar system (which I'm enjoying. I use a car when I absolutely have to, but otherwise don't have to worry about it - no getting a guest pass for my building, no looking for parking in my neighborhood. Pure genius.), Craig and I met on a train platform. We emerged from the tunnel into warm late afternoon sunlight. A couple blocks down to the Zipcar office, and I notice that the actual street it's on is closed for a farmer's market. Score! After I get my Zipcard, we began wandering around, looking at the goodies on display.

I wound up with a quart of really *good* yogurt - this stuff reminds me of the yogurt my mom made for me as a kid, some tomatoes, some greens, a block of feta from the yogurt guy, half a boule of really crusty bread - nicely yeasty and chewy, 2 perfect Asian pears, just wanting a day or two, 2 portabellas, with an extra stem thrown in ("It's good for soup - just chop it up real good"), and a head of organically grown garlic. Back down into the Metro, plotting my purchases into a tasty dinner (portabella steaks with chopped garlic and a little white wine on toasted crusty bread, a salad with heirloom tomatoes, feta cheese, and a light dressing. For dessert? Yogurt and honey.), I take a few moments as the train emerges from the tunnel into the light to do a little quick birdwatching - you see, the train comes out behind a shopping center, and where the parking lot ends is a bit of a swampy area, where I sometimes see herons. I saw one on Monday, but not last night.

I think breakfast tomorrow may be mushroom soup with crusty bread, since tonight, a friend is holding a birthday gathering and I've been wanting that soup for nearly a day now. I'm thinking next week of looking at the mixed mushroom boxes, seeing if any cooking greens are looking good (one of the few things that improves mushroom soup is adding a few chopped greens), checking out the mixed grain cider bread (in little loaves), picking up the dried mushroom mix and some more of that amazing yogurt. Maybe even a quart of cider by then... And some green zebra tomatoes, because they're just so nifty looking...

Evening: One Deep Breath

Canoe glides softly
Into evening eddies
Tired.

Last bird calls echo
Crickets begin to sing
Evening in the hills

Mosquito lands
Ripples of water
Trout's dinner

Deck in the woods
Banjo in my hands
Evening whispers

This weekend, I went back to the hills to visit my parents and canoe down the same river I canoed down countless times as a child. I brought my sketchbook, but somehow just didn't even open it, preferring to sit out on the deck with my banjo, sometimes playing softly, but more often just watching the life of the woods around me.

On Saturday, we debated on whether to give up on the canoeing expedition and just go for a walk in the woods, but recommitted to the 7 mile paddle and headed off to the canoe livery, not getting there until the afternoon, and finding ourselves waiting. No problem: we watched the goats in a nearby pen wiggling through to get to the feedbox until our name was called, then headed upriver with a trailer of canoes.

Then we decided to explore a rock formation on public lands partway down the river, and lazily drifted for some of the trip. When we arrived near the end of the trip, I was exhausted, but happy. After my shower, as everyone else got ready for dinner, I again sat with my banjo in the gathering dusk.

Coveting banjos

Why is it that when I don't feel like I have time to *think* I can manage a few minutes to covet my neighbor's banjo? The wierd thing is the specific banjo is even the same type as my own - a Deering Goodtime. Yes, there are simply gorgeous banjos that I could drool over, including one inset with mother of pearl moon and stars, set into a swirling galaxy down the fretboard. There are antique banjos, some of which have simply gorgeous work in them.

But it's a little bit like when I was a very small child and went into a toy section with my Granny. I picked up a doll and started talking to it, but after a couple minutes, shook my head, said "too 'spensive," put it back, and got on with my life. (Leading my poor Granny to get it for my next Christmas, by which time I'd put it so completely out of my mind that I didn't even recognize it.) They're beautiful, but so far beyond my budget and skills that I can appreciate that beauty without any tinge of covetousness.

But to know that somewhere in the world, there is a bright pink banjo with a prism head (scroll down for the pictures), well... it looks like such a bright and happy banjo. I don't even usually *do* pink, but it's a pink *banjo* and that makes a lot of difference. And even more specifically, it's a pink banjo that is very similar to mine.

I find myself tempted to make a cardboard dulcimer and paint it sparkly green.

Banjo progress

In the meantime, I've been working away at learning the banjo. Pretty much I've got the melody lines down for "Skip to My Lou" and "Polly Wolly Doodle" and am working on the chords for accompaniment. *sigh* "Skip to My Lou" is coming along, and would probably come along better if I could sing that song anywhere close to where my banjo is playing. "Polly Wolly Doodle" is kind of chugging along behind.

On the other hand, I've practiced so much that I've worn out my strings, so I learned how to replace them. Woot! It was oddly gratifying to see the wear spots, including a place where I'd basically worn through the winding wire on the low D string. I left the used strings with my instructor, who has been known to use old musical strings in craft projects and other reuses. And the next night realized I wanted the old strings because I spotted a repair project I could have used one in. So it goes.

This weekend, I'm taking the banjo with me when I visit my folks. The place we're staying is pretty isolated, so I can feel reasonably confident that I'm not disturbing anyone when I take the banjo out on the porch to practice those darn chords. And next week, it can come camping.

It's gotten to be a very relaxing thing I do - just pull out the banjo, feel the comfortable feel of the neck in my hand, the light weight resting on my lap, the brackets pressing into my arm, the strap keeping everything in place. Tune. Okay, now tune again. Run a couple scales up and down. Hmmm. Play with the chords a bit. Double check that tuning. (The tuning was better for a while, but new strings need constant tuning, as I am rapidly discovering.) Play with "Skip to My Lou"... Now, the chords. Okay, "Polly Wolly Doodle" melody. (I love doing the "Fare thee well, Fare thee well, Fare thee well, my fairy fay" bit*.) Play around a bit. Chords, right, I should be practicing chords. "Skip to My Lou" chords. Play around a bit... and so forth.

*And I just realized that that's a bit that freaked me out less than a month ago - convinced I wouldn't get the timing or the change to the A note easily. But I did. And now, it's my favorite part of the whole song. There's probably something really deep in that. And the whole "Polly wolly doodle all the day" bit is a lot easier than it looks, too.

Steve Martin is right. It is just about impossible to be totally depressed while playing the banjo. There's something cheering about that ringing sound, even if it does want tuning every 20 minutes.

Singin' Polly Wolly Doodle all the day...

No, I haven't given up on learning the banjo, but it's been slow, incremental learning. My scales are now much better, and I can play "Skip to My Lou" both by picking out single notes and by playing the chords (though the chord changes are still a little slow, especially between D and C). But so far, "Skip to My Lou" and "Wild Thing" have been it. My instructor's computer had been upgraded, and so he could not immediately make me the music sheets.

So when I looked at the notation for "Polly Wolly Doodle" tonight, my heart fell. All those eighth notes! Yikes! Help! This is obviously music for people who know what they're doing, not music for me! And yet...

"Just ignore the rest of it, and play the first few notes for me."



Um, okay. I pull out an extra pick and use it to mark off the notes I'm going to play from those I will ignore. Okay... GABBG. Hey! That wasn't so bad. My timing was off, but the notes were easy... And wait, that second phrase is the same as the first... I still don't have the timing, but I can figure out the notes... And that really intimidating 3rd phrase isn't really so very bad...

Hey! I can sorta play something like this song! *Happy dance* And "Skip to My Lou" is sounding really good... Wow.

Banjo happy dance

My banjo instructor and I have both had a pretty hectic last two weeks, and last week, I didn't get a lesson in, nor did I do much practice, because... well, I've been wiped. So I basically went one week with only a little bit of practice and a second week where there was no practice. Yikes, I figured. I'm going to go back and discover that I can't do anything with the banjo and have to start practically all over again.

I was wrong. Not that I plan to regularly not practice, but I managed to pull off the smoothest g scale I've done yet, pretty much right off the bat. Where the heck did that come from? Admittedly, this was after I spent 15 minutes tuning. Banjos prefer attention, thank you, and leaving them untouched for more than a week leaves you with a banjo that not only is untuned, but that doesn't care to get into tune right away, thank you very much.

And I started practicing scales in different time signatures. And next week, when we both have our act together, and maybe even some actual sleep, I will be ready for a new song. (And I also got a glimpse of future possibilities tonight: my instructor played Strauss' "Blue Danube" on the banjo, then played it again, only in a 3 finger picking style. Whoa!)

Musical progress

It felt for the last week as though I were getting nowhere. The same 8 bars of music, over and over again, trying to smooth out the fingerings and the timing. And again... no, let's try those last 4 bars again, now all eight... And again...

And it began to come together. So today, I sat down with my instructor and tried to play, but tripped over my own fingers at the end. The second time, however, it worked - it actually sounded like a song. And then, on to the new: two new chords, 3 new timing drills, and, oh by the way, how are those G scales going? Whoof.

And a further admonition: work with what goes well, and take note of what's hard to master. And to add to the whole thing, I'm headed back home this weekend, so I'll have to squeeze in my practice where I can. My reward? A new song next week.

My banjo on my knee

One important thing I've learned: I need to stop by a hardware store and pick up a couple swivel clips, which I can then sew one of my handwoven straps to - it's easier to play the banjo when you're not having to think about holding it up quite so much. (And sewing up a gig bag looks like a project for soon. Much more compact and easier to cope with than a big cardboard box, plus I can sew in pockets for music and picks. I think I've found a use for the upholstery fabric in my fabric stash.)

Second important thing I've learned: strumming is not as easy as it looks. Seriously. I'm going to be practicing just strumming (with three easy chords) all week. GG CCC DD CCC. By the time I've got them down, I don't think anyone around me will ever want to hear "Wild Thing" ever again. So it's good that I've been promised "Oh, Suzannah" for next week, isn't it?

Thirdly, um, wow. I can tune a banjo. And produce a chord. Mostly.

Neat lessons. Now for a week and a half's worth of practice. GG CCC DD CCC...

The rose blooms

A friend of mine is blooming today. She came to tell me that she's quitting her job and moving on with becoming a full-time writer. She's applying for a grant from A Room of Her Own, but whether she gets it or not, she's on to her next big adventure.

I'm excited for her, and will be praying that all goes well. I know this is the second such request from me today, but if y'all could hold her in the light and in your prayers, it would be wonderful.

And she's left me with a challenge: to take my writing and my art seriously. To apply for grants and publication and... well, a lot of things.

Happy news!

A cousin of mine has just given birth to my new first cousin once removed, hereinafter referred to as "the cutest little girl west of the Mississippi!" Who has a stuffed hippo in her future. Or more like 3 (my husband had a stuffed hippo as a young boy and went a little nuts when he found 3 different stuffed hippos at Ikea). And bibs. And much love.

And I got a tiny bit overwhelmed last night when I came home to an unexpected package. Someone had heard from my mom about the blanket and over the course of 5 days had done 7 squares. And embroidered one of them, too. So I've added another row to the blanket, which will mean that even if he stretches out a lot while sleeping, it shouldn't uncover his toes. It does mean I'm going to have to clear off some space this weekend to lay out the whole thing again in order to integrate all the new squares.

The old car we'd kept going so far has finally given up the ghost - there's probably enough there to get her to a dealer, but I wouldn't want to drive her any further. So for the present time, we're on public transit and Zipcar, which is a car rental service that will rent out cars in tiny increments of time and has cars parked through the city, rather than just at the airports.

And I'd like to ask for folks to hold some friends of mine in the light as they go through a difficult time. Right now, there's a need for peacemaking at home and sometimes it seems harder to make peace at home than anywhere else.