I got to work a big old garden this summer (probably too big), and now my basement apartment is a wonderland of drying seeds for future harvests. Almost every flat surface is covered in beans that are shelled, or that wait to be shelled, and there are jars of tomato juice and seeds working off on top of my fridge. Sarah finds this quite aggravating, but she also understands how important this all is to me--and well, just how important this IS.
I have found this garden season to be particularly inspiring for writing songs, and lately they've been about seed saving. Perhaps it's all these seeds, or the mountain air, or the first hints of crisp fall winds. Maybe when I run my hands through a pile of little bean seed pearls (which I can't seem to stop doing), I've been able to get a little of their magic to rub off. Songwriting sure feels kind of magical to me, I've never had much luck building a song piece by piece, they just wash over me and I write them then and there, melody and lyrics all at once. It's bewildering really, and similar to fishing. sometimes you think you've really got something, but it gets away from you. Sometimes you cast out and don't even get the hint of a bite. Sometimes, you get loads of little small things not worth keeping. Then there's those magical times when the big one comes, whether you were prepared for it or not.
I'm uncomfortable describing myself as a songwriter, but "songfisher," I think I could get behind that. I pulled this one up this morning, and you can hear the creaks and stops and starts of a virgin flight recorded on a cell phone. You can hear that I hadn't quite made up my mind about the melody. And, you also can hear the sweet voice of my backup cricket. At first, it stopped fiddling when I began to sing, but then joined in.
So here it is, "Living History"
When I grow a garden
There’s more than beans
There’s memories, families
Hopes and Dreams
Over there in the corner, Are Ma’s Tommytoes
I fondly remember picking out of the snow
Been growing here, many long years
Through droughts and floods and hopes and fears
In the Springtime, Reunited with friends gone on
They burst from the ground with tendrils and tales
In the Summer days, when I’m bringing in Maters and Beans
I’m setting the table with their hopes and dreams
This white corn here, it’s a special one
They grew it in hamburg ‘for the TVA come
They drowned the town with water so clear
All that was left was one little ear.
And them speckled beans, out of Hazel Creek
That the TVA filled up with water so deep
The Laneys brought out that little bean
As they carried their hopes and memories and dreams
{Chorus}
That bean there, running roughshod
All over my garden with sunset pods
They kept in a freezer for 30 odd years
Just a double handful, I set them out here
That big tomato so yellow and fine
It happens to be a favorite of mine
In the back of a freezer 50 years or more
Sleeping through funerals, birthdays, and wars
{Chorus}
When I grow a garden
There’s more than beans
There’s memories, families
Hopes and Dreams