Life is like a mountain railroad
With an engineer so brave
We must make this run successful
From the cradle to the grave
Watch the curves, the hills, the tunnels
Never falter, never fail
Keep your hand upon the throttle
And your eye upon the rail
There's nothing like a bluegrass gospel song to give life a real perspective. There's also nothing like spending Sunday morning on a creekside joining several thousand other rain soaked souls in singing the chorus as the band plays along,
Oh, blessed Savior, thou wilt guide us
Til we reach that blissful shore
Where the angels wait to join us
In God's grace forever more
I've returned from my yearly travels to Merlefest and oh, my, I'm still singing, still walking on cloud nine. And my wet clothes are still drying. These past four days of music restored my soul like, well, like a springtime rain awakens the grass into a new year's growth.
Being one of thousands doesn't detract. This year being with the crowds meant "community."
Together we celebrated the life of founder, Doc Watson, mourning not only losing him since last year, but his wife as well.
Together we dripped tears for George Jones and sang tributes to his music. Together we ignored the rain, ran from tent to tent, splashed through mud.
Only at Merlefest would a performer say, "I'm still gigging away," and the audience know exactly what he means. Only at Merlefest would a speaker brag he grew up in a home with two swings and four rockers on the front porch. That's living! Another bragged his town was so small nobody ever needed to use turn signals because people already know which way they were going to turn.
Four days of music. Nonstop. Oh, my!
So that was my weekend. I hope yours was as blessed.
Catch of the day,
Gretchen
