"Home and Hearth" (Oct. 2007)

The shortness of time, the shortening days, the changing angle of the light. Gradual shifts from the summer into autumn. Too bad the thermometer has forgotten this - a week of 90 degrees and humid days greeted my return from the High Plains, and overnight into below-normal 60 degree days and near freezing nights. That and the worst ragweed season in a long time seem to be making their presence felt in many households nearby.

Households - I could write a book about them! Of the many pleasures of the road, maybe none is as wonderful as the welcome into someone's home for an overnight stay. Perhaps they have hosted the evening's concert, perhaps they volunteer at the evening's venue, but the hospitality of friends old and just met is a delightful insight into how different we each are, and the things that we treasure.

I am chuckling about this this morning as I just did a rare house concert in my own neighborhood - a gift given by the hosts to an honored friend of their family. a barbeque and a baby shower for their friends, followed by a night out at a concert, except it all happened at their house. Enjoying conversation with friends and the post-concert afterglow, I remembered glimpses of so many other fond and similar memories, even from the tour just concluded. Of libations and conversations shared, and the unique details that we surround ourselves with in our own lairs - those things that stick to memory as much as the warm affection for the friends who chose to decorate with them.

And more often than not, my memories are also associated with the rareness of the visit and the distance between their warm sanctuary and my own humble abode. So last night as I prepared to take my leave of my friends, I couldn't help but grin at the fact that the loading of the van would take longer than the driveway to driveway journey home.

All that is nothing more than a reminder, I guess, to enjoy life's rare treats and the jewels in your own neighborhood. I certainly am grateful for all of the hearths and homes that I have been treated to in the last thirteen years, both near and far. The "safe houses" along the folk musician's underground railroad, that keep me fortified and nurtured to get up the next morning, enjoy a few moments linger over coffee and a light munch, and onto the next day's work.

Warm wishes for autumn's gentle approach, from our humble home to yours.