Last night's supper. Wherein I seriously had to make myself shut the hell up about how excited I was about it. We grew that broccoli, but in ever greater excitement, those are our fingerling potatoes, roasted with our garlic and rosemary. The potatoes are amazing. Rich, nutty, buttery, the perfect amount of waxy, and not one bit mealy. I'll admit that was kind of afraid to tip over the first potato pot. I would not have been one bit surprised if we found about three potatoes in there because really: we are just figuring this stuff out. But I was so happy with the harvest, especially considering that we pulled these on the early side. There are two more pots to pilfer, but this time I am not afraid.
Headed west later today, for Seattle, for family, for fine eats, for Portland, and for a really special wedding. These two are such good eggs. They played twin fiddles for our wedding, and we are playing with a guitar player for their wedding. I am a little bit eeps about it. Performing is not my thing. The best music I play is usually in my own kitchen or with people I know really, really well. Audiences jam my circuits. Learning to play music is the hardest thing I have ever done, absolutely no doubt. I started late, I am bad at being a beginner, and it took me a few years of playing to realize that I was going to have to work at being a musician - it wasn't just going to magically happen no matter the wishing I might do. I am surrounded by so many talented musicians, and I still work so hard to refrain from comparing what I do to what they do, and likewise to refrain from worrying about what they are thinking of my playing. There is a lot of ego wrangling that I have had to do, and at times that has surprised me. I have done more crying than I'd like to admit, and I am ashamed to say that I have threatened to sell my instruments more than once in fits of completely immature rage and frustration. But this desire to play this music runs so deep for me. There is absolutely nothing more beautiful, more wild and freeing, more dance making to me than the sound of a fiddle and a banjo. It moves me, it always has and it always will. I wanted to learn to play music for literally almost twenty years before I bought an instrument, dug in my heels, and vowed that I would not stop. And that guy down there. He's taught me so much - countless tunes, a framework of music theory, harmony singing, and how to play the guitar. But mostly what he teaches me is how to be kind to myself. How to silence my inner critic, and god that voice is deafening sometimes. How to appreciate the journey, see the distance between where I am now and where I was then. So on Saturday, as our favorite friends clear a path through their loved ones to marry one another, I will play with nothing but love in my heart and a mind cleared just for the making of music.
Jeez. That is about as confessional as you'll probably ever get here, thank goodness. How about a link to clear the air? Melvin Wine is one of my favorite West Virginia fiddlers. He's not alive any more, but his tunes sure are, and Twin Sisters is a favorite of mine. What a dapper fellow. Also. Don't laugh, it was 1984. We play a lot of what this guy plays just because he plays it so flippin' good. Also. Shitty recording, but these guys play seriously happy music.