I was just outside in the pasture with the animals, playing the dulcimer, digesting the bratwurst and pumpkin beer from Cambridge's Apple Festival. It was a lovely, slightly chilly, evening. As I sat in the grass and strummed Sal trotted up to say hello. I scratched his back and waited for him to lie down next to me, but he just stood. So I stood up with him and realized his back was perfectly level for my dulcimer. I gently set it on his spine. He didn't move. I strummed a chord. His ears shot forward interested, but still, didn't move. I played Wild Mountain Thyme, and he just stood there as my living table in the middle of field. When I finished I took a bow to our horrible audience. The other sheep and cow just ate, uninterested in our performance.
Enjoy the story of a young writer living in Washington County with her fancy dogs, sheep, lots of chickens, fiber & meat rabbits, geese, ducks, turkeys, a hive and a garden. Expect to hear a lot about mountain music, the civil war, local food, and my friends along the way. It's a big time folks.