I had done the research. I’d read the book. I was ready to head out and find the angels sold by William Oliver Wolfe’s monument shop in Asheville, made famous by his son, Thomas Wolfe, in his novel Look Homeward Angel. Joining me would be fellow explorer Alan Russell.
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth.
And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
I’m still trying to catch up after a whirlwind holiday travel season. Given our upcoming activities, I’ll probably be trying to catch up for the next month or so. Regardless, while we are in Florida we like to get out into nature as much as we can. This holiday season we were able to visit Kissimmee Prairie, the Stick Marsh at the Sebastian River Preserve, and several beaches.
The Christmas Dinosaurs have been put away and the trees taken down. We’ve been catching our breath before ramping up for the next round of madness. The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind. There were paddle trips, swamp outings, drum circles, and we even celebrate a major milestone. All of this, while wrapping up 2018 and seeing in 2019 in grand fashion. Over the next several posts I’m going to try to summarize the Winter Holiday happenings.
I have a thick white beard that I’ve let grow out longer for the season. I have a Santa hat. I have a red PFD. I have a big red kayak. Of course I’d combine all of these for some Santa paddling. What I hadn’t counted on was eight tiny dolphins to pull my sleigh.
When possible I’ve tried to watch the sunrise from a kayak on the solstices. Winter solstice we’re usually in Florida for Christmas. Last year we missed it while we were away in Washington State, but this year I was determined to get out for the sunrise. The added bonus? I had two new boats to christen.
My brother Houston and I have been working on the song “Ain’t No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down.” As I was humming it I found that it fit nicely with the old song “I’m Just a Poor, Wayfaring Stranger.” The two match harmonically, melodically, and thematically. I tried to put them together as a medley at our last Pickens Flea Market gig, with varying degrees of success. The most striking aspect of these tunes is the opening phrase, where the melody seems to linger on the fifth of the scale tone. I’m calling this “The Hanging Fifth.”
Thanksgiving has come and gone and we now find ourselves no the first day of December, 2018. I didn’t do any great explorations or historic research over the past couple of weeks, but I did get out and about. Perhaps I should start a series similar to my “Random Skagit” posts from last year in Washington State. Regardless, here’s a roundup of a few of the happenings over the last week or so.