“The swing looks a little lonely on this Christmas Day.”
“Yes, and I’m afraid it won’t be there for long,” my brother said.
The old hickory has given shade for many years, and what little fruit it produces covers the ground every year. But, the years and weather have taken a toll. The bottom of the tree is hollowing out with rot. It’s just a matter of time before it comes down … naturally or by the chain saw.
After an early-morning coffee stop, I decided to take the long way home, a jaunt through the countryside. Riding along, I was looking for some kind of photo op to document the ride. I think this is quite representative of the ride.
Folk music has its followers around the world, and even more so is the music that comes from our own Appalachian region here in the United States. So, the opportunity to listen and and see a little culture is an experience to grab hold of.
I like that mountain music. It’s the roots of blue grass. There is nothing like it, and it’s common enough that you can have a group of musicians gather with a banjo, guitar, mandolin and fiddle, and you’ve got a band. That’s all it takes. Sure, you can throw in a bass, but you rarely see drums or any kind of percussion instrument.
Grab a bite to eat, something to drink, sit back and just listen. Let the music carry you away to the oldest mountains in the USA—the Appalachians. Yes, they are much older than the Rockies according to geologists. Not as high because they’ve been worn down, but older.
John Denver can take you home on country roads, but I’d really like to just fly, fly away. Listening to that old time mountain music can do that for me.