You’ll remember our trip to Merle Fest, and how we chased smoke, met some folks who played nice in the sandbox and got to use some darn nice out houses.

On that trip we also got to see “The Steel Drivers“, my new favorite bluegrass band.

I’m totally smitten with them. They have their own bluesy, bluegrass, twang that just about does me in. Not only that. The words to their songs are absolutely poetry set to music. Stunning, leaving me to ponder life. I love it. So I had to get a t-shirt to help me remember the moment.

As you know. I’m a tightwad and buy most of my clothes used or drastically on sale and would never buy myself a $25 t-shirt, much less a $20 one. But, I didn’t say SINthia (my evil twin) wouldn’t.

I asked the gal selling the t-shirts if they had any left. She said one–large.

“Is that it there?” I asked pointing a squinting. (I didn’t have my glasses on.)

“Yep.”

I’ll take it.

Just about that time the fiddle player and back-up singer walked up behind me and said, “If you buy that shirt, you’re guaranteed to work harder and not sweat.”

SOLD.

Then I turned it over.

My shoulder’s drooped and said, “Oh, well, I guess I’ll take it. Uh, I guess I can wear it to church.”

The sales lady answered in the sweetest most southern voice you’ve ever heard said…

“Honey, you just do that. You wear it to church. Then you’ll fit in great with the rest of us sinners.”

And that’s what I like about the south. They understand grace.

Simply,

SINthia

PS ~ SINthia is my evil twin. She says what I’m thinking. And does…God only knows what. Well, just see for yourself….Cheap date ideas from SINthia. ~ SINthia springs Russell from jail. ~ How she thinks she is the Red Baron. ~ Or how she aspires to be a Kung Fu Fighter.

Yeah, I’ll be over here, sucking my thumb if you need me.

Sandy Feat!

Meet Ed and Alan, for fun they travel around the country building stuff out of sand.

It’s safe to say these two gems play nice in the sand box.

Their music festival started with 20 tons of sands whacker packed very tightly in wooded forms, some water and a witty idea to build Froggy Mountain (after Earl Scruggs’ song Foggy Mountain Breakdown.)

A few hot days later you get this…

Froggy Mountain, complete with a banjo playing bear…

…frogs, waterfalls, snow capped mountains…

 …climbing ropes, and more. A totally amazing feat, if you ask me.

I went to Merlefest hoping to hear some great music, which I did. But, one of the greatest highlights was getting to know these good people who have a passion for building with sand and zest for life and folks. That alone was worth the price of admission.

Simply,

Sandhill Sis

Ben chases smoke. Not just any smoke, mind you, when your grass is BLUE…the smoke you chase can’t be inhaled. However, it’s fair to say it’s as addicting as other smoke. This banjo player chases the ‘prewar sound’ type smoke. For all you non-banjo players, that would be the ‘sound’ that a 1933 Gibson banjo makes.

I know what you’re thinking. Oh, yeah, THAT sound. Yeah, right. I wish it were THAT easy.

The problem with sound is, it sounds different to each ear. And God gave us two. Each. Damn it. Is it any wonder T calls it smoke.

We chased this ‘smoke’ from Kansas, to Georgia, through South Carolina to Warren Yate’s banjo shop somewhere in North Carolina, (near Hickory), to Merlefest in Wilkesboro, North Carolina and back. Whew!

This is Ben Smoke, as he is called now, pick purse in hand, riding in a 37 foot RV, bound for Warren Yate’s banjo shop.

These are our good friends, T (the tour guide) and Ann (a model wife, mother, friend). Good people, who graciously invited us on this smoke chasing tour.

If you need one of them real good times, fly across country, climb in an RV with some good people and chase whatever kind of smoke is your smoke…There is no telling what will happen.

When we got to Warren’s house we discovered his driveway was 35 foot. If you ever lay awake at night wondering how a 37 foot RV would fit into a 35 foot driveway…

The answer is, pretty good. However, you may have to replace some divots, as Ben called them, and direct traffic when you pull out, but if you hold your mouth right, it fits.

Warren Yates, the maker of the Yates banjo, was quite a host. He loves to talk banjos, play banjos, smell banjos, feel banjo, croon on banjos, well, anything you can do with a banjo, this guy loves. It’s fun to watch people waller around in their passion, and Warren does it well.

Like a pusher with the goods… here he is tuning up smokey.

 He had a couple of new banjos to show us, both were Ron Stewart models, and distressed (made to look like 1933 banjos look now) with differences in sound smoke. He used a bunch of adjectives describing the difference. (Banjo players love adjectives.) My eye just glossed over at this point. So, I just smiled, nodded and took a few pictures of Ben chasin’ smoke.

We chased and picked and picked and chased. After a little while we figured out how Warren gets them banjo’s to look distressed.

That’s simple. I like simple.

Warren makes other instruments too, the guitar and washtub bass were also crafted by him.

 Like a hound dog on a trail…

 Ben smelled smoke, and was fixing on inhaling deeply.

It gives a new meaning to HIGH lonesome sound, doesn’t it?

His other woman is even feeling the strain.

Believe it or not, we call this vacation.

Welcome to my world.

Sandhill Sis

This is what is on one of our walls in the living room. I love it. It totally defines who we are, what we do, and why we do it. And says it more eloquently than I could say it, that’s for sure.

About three years ago Ben and I started taking music focused get aways, alone, as in, no kids. Not that I don’t love those two monkeys. It’s just, I’m pretty sure I’m a better Mom if I take a break from the intensity of parenting for a week or two a year.

First it was Pete Wernick’s Advanced Banjo Camp in Boulder, CO. Ben banjoed and I shopped ever thrift shop in town (there’s eleven) and we would connect to eat and in the evenings. It was glorious.

The best thing about banjo camp is meeting interesting people from all over the world. We met a guy from Georgia, named T, who graciously invited us to his wife’s birthday party, another trip that involved more great folks, over the top food, and tons of music therapy. A peak experience, just as he promised.

That set the next series of events, another trip to banjo camp, a trip to the International Bluegrass Music Associations (IBMA) week in Nashville, TN and now we are off to Wilkesboro, North Carolina for Merlefest, a HUGE bluegrass festival.

Here’s the catch. While the grandmas wrangle the kids. We are flying to Atlanta, meeting up with our friends, road tripping to North Carolina in a 37 foot RV, road tripping back to Atlanta, and flying home. With T as our tour guide, it promises to be, a pickin’, gigglin’, sleep lackin’ trip. The best kind. We will come home with all the dust washed off, totally exhausted but rejuvenated.

So we’re outta here. Gone. Off, for some much needed music therapy. 

To say it my own way…Music, is like shakin’ the heck out of the etch-n-sketch of life. Ha. It really doesn’t have the same ring.

Later,

Sandhill Sis