The old house where I’ve dwelled for over thirty years sits on the side of a little mountain about a quarter mile up from the West Branch of the Susquehanna River. It once belonged to an Irish woman named Maude, and after she died it was abandoned for 17 years until I came along from Alaska and bought it for a song from her grandsons, two old men named Doug and Suzy, who told me stories of when they were boys, and how they would love to visit Maude, climb the apple tree out back and pick the sweet grapes and raspberries bordering the property and that one year they would never forget, when the river flooded and the water came almost up to where they were all sitting on the narrow front porch, watching people rowing boats and paddling canoes not ten feet away.

“It was always a place of safety,” Suzy said to me only once, “You know—where the flood waters never reach.”

Time passes and most everything changes. Levees and dikes downriver have ended the floods. The main road now runs closer to the railroad tracks. I rebuilt their old porch. But one thing that doesn’t is how we all need such places of refuge and how often we find them if not in a physical space most certainly in our friendships.

Scott Spearly, my dear friend and collaborator on this album, knew that I’d been spending a lot of time on that porch each day playing a Merlin Seagull four-string dulcimer, and when he heard I’d picked up a Kala baritone ukulele but was having some trouble committing to it, he wisely suggested that I try some banjo tunings on the uke.

What a revelation and gift that suggestion turned out to be. For a variety of reasons, playing those little stringed instruments became a form of necessary meditation for me, and Scott, well, he understood and needed some of that, too. In just two live studio sessions in September and October of 2019, he gave me the freedom to roam wherever my mind and fingers desired, and beneath me he played his little Daion parlor guitar. Scott brought subtly and complexity to these simple musical meditations, and we think that the sum of our convergence is greater than our individual parts--just the way we’ve been doing it for so many seasons—and worthy enough to share with you.

About the other artist:

Scott Spearly lives, does man-chores, and shoots pool in Historic Mercersburg, Pennsylvania. In addition to teaching and mentoring students ranging from special needs to gifted, and while still trying to figure out what he wants to be when he grows up, he built his own log home back in 2007, raised a son who has moved onto a doctoral program at Ohio State University, and headed The Knuckle Dusters, a successful and enduring American roots band that has performed in such noted venues as the Smithsonian Botanical Gardens and Rue’s Tavern. Scott has also released five albums of original music: Low-Country Radio, Far From the Herd, You’re a Cancer, Pull the Plug, and Walkin’ Dog. His music, photos, and related articles can be found at www.knuckledusters.com, and all over the internet on I-tunes, Spotify, YouTube, Amazon, I-Heart Radio and most major online music retailers.