the marble tea webthing

One Snowflake for Your Thoughts

The blizzard that just hit New Jersey was a day late, but it wasn’t a dollar short, that’s for sure. As friends in the South rejoiced at snow on Christmas Day, we on the Shore had to wait until the day after to get ours…and it walloped us good!

I spent that shimmery Sunday in the backyard studio, watching the snow fall and recording a little soundtrack for it. As the day and evening progressed, so did the intensity of the storm, a blizzard now. Waking Monday morning to a day full of shoveling, I wasn’t able to get back into the studio until today, so high were the snow dunes across our patio. The town is still a wreck from the downpour, but the sky is clear and the sweater KC knitted for me is warm.

I hope you have the chance to listen to this song as you watch snow falling outside your window. If not, I hope you’ll close your eyes and imagine it that way, for that is its sole intent. Is it really true that no two snowflakes are alike?

Happy New Year to you, and may your days be merry and bright!

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Tryptophan

I’m not a scientist, Jim. I don’t even play one on TV. But I felt turkey was getting all the blame for Thanksgiving day sleepiness and wanted to set the record, somewhat at least, straight. This month’s song explains my understanding of how it works, even if it inadvertently conjures a bit of Adam Sandler.

Happy Thanksgiving! And much respect to all my vegan and vegetarians friends…

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Zombie Love

It’s Halloween, do you know where your zombie is?

As I was waffling about what song to offer you this month – something new that I’d need to bring to life, or something old that’s dressed in cobwebs – I was thinking about all the spooky Halloween-type songs of the rock era and kept coming back to this one: Zombie Love by the Jazz Butcher. (more…)

Painting A Cat (Earwig Version)

Years ago I lived in a big old house on the outskirts of downtown Montgomery with two magnificent artists and an eccentric and delightful landlady. We were all pretty much the same age, so calling her a “landlady” seems a little misleading…let’s just say she owned the house, then. I’ve fallen, sadly and completely, out of touch with her and one of the artists, but the other one I still consider one of my best friends, even though we haven’t spoken in a few months. Friendship is a funny thing like that.

I wish I could remember and describe all of the house-owner’s wonderful eccentricities, but you know how those times can be, fueled as they are by thrills of the moment and then stowed away in dusty closets of memory. A few things I do remember: she would sleep for days at a time and then signal her awakening accidentally at four in an unexpected morning with the crash of something metallic in the kitchen…and then she’d be awake for several days before finally resting again for several more. (more…)

Meet Me at the Gulf of Mexico (iPhone Demo)

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I feel a special connection with the Gulf of Mexico, particularly that stretch of shore along Florida’s panhandle. My grandparents had a house on the beach in Panama City, so my summers growing up were filled with white sand and blue-green waters, as well as all the adventures of my mischievous father and his brothers and clan.

Teenaged and college summers were spent predominately in Destin-Ft. Walton with an eye toward drinking and bikinis rather than the natural magic of the place, but by my settled-in adult years that sweet body of water had whispered the memories and promises back into my ear, planting the rhythm of its undulating waves firmly alongside my heartbeat.   (more…)