It’s Spring

Just another lyric without a tune.

There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

Winter is buried
Now all dead and gone
Goodbye to the cold
That cuts to the bone

Hear rain on the roof
Soon a daisy or two
Sprouts in the green

There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

Listen to the robins
On a singing streak
Watch butterflies dance
Flowers cheek to cheek

Sparrows come making
Their nests in the trees
With branches spread wide
And lush canopies

There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

It’s spring
I’m here to tell you
It is spring
So let the light come in

A grey squirrel dashes
Up a back yard oak
A snake slithers by
Frog crosses the porch

Blossoms a-budding
Nature’s calling card
Breathe in the spring air
Crossing the yard

There’s only one eight o’clock in the morning
Only one eight a.m. a day
There’s only one Saturday a week
So let the sun wash your blues away

Uncle Bardie’s Spotlight Creator: Calexico

Once a week on Friday, Uncle Bardie celebrates the creativity in others by shining a Spotlight on a movie, a song or a creator. This week’s Spotlight Creator is the band Calexico:

I have a real fondness for the border music of the Southwest. It’s a land where the gringo and the Mexican culture mix and you get such a wonderful sound. There’s the sound of horns and the sound of the mariachi and the guitar.

Calexico is a band that embraces that culture and creates a music that is Latin and rock and country and folk with a bit of border thrown in for good measure. Named after the town of Calexico, California, it’s a unique blend the band calls desert noir.

But it’s not just the music Calexico produces. It’s the lyrics that get me. Led by Joey Burns on guitar and vocals and John Convertino on drums, we get a true authentic American sound. Out of Tucson, Arizona, they’re celebrating a culture you don’t often hear celebrated in the United States Anglo community outside of the Southwest.

And off their latest album, The Thread That Keeps Us:

And now they are touring with Iron & Wine:

Near 500 words: TW finds a wood carving

Episode 8 of The Writer.

TW (aka The Writer) knelt and picked up the wooden carving off the floor. He sat down on the carpet, leaned against the wall and rubbed the butternut wood. It had a beautiful brown tan.

Into the wood, Sylvia had carved a butterfly riding a robin. She had given it to him for his twenty-sixth birthday. When he asked about the butterfly, she smiled. Her smile always gave her face a glow. “Oh, it’s a monarch. It’s my spirit animal. And I wanted to share it with you. If something ever happened to me, I would be with you still.”

“What’s a spirit animal?” he asked, feeling the smoothness of the carved wood in his hand.

“It’s a guide. Kind of like a guardian angel.”

He gave her words some thought.

She continued, “Everybody has a spirit animal. It’s a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Yes. From the One.”

“From the One?”

“You might call the One the Tao. The One has many Names. The Great Spirit. Father. Mother. Yahweh. Jesus. Buddha. Allah. Vishnu. Shiva. Brahma. They all apply.”

TW looked at Sylvia. He didn’t really know the person who sat before him, her legs crossed into a full lotus. This was someone who had a depth to her. The kind of depth no one else he knew had. It was as if she were an onion, pealing the outer skin off. There were many more skins to pull before he would know the real Sylvia. He wasn’t sure he deserved her. And her love. That scared him. What was he going to do?

Sylvia reached over and touched his head. A warmth surged through his body and he felt calm. It was like a peaceful evening on a beach with the ocean singing to him. Tears rolled down his face. Sylvia wiped the tears away and embraced him, and they made love.

As they lay side by side on the floor, he realized he had forgotten something. He rolled over and faced her. “What about the bird?”

Her green eyes twinkled like stars. “The robin also is my spirit animal.”

“You have two?”

“Actually the butterfly is transforming into the robin. I was a butterfly once. Now I am a robin.”

“Well, that’s interesting. Do I have a spirit animal?” he asked, frightened that he might not have one.

She reached over and put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Of course, silly. You might even have more than one.”

“What is it?”

She laughed. “I am not the one who should know.”

“Then who?” He was anxious to know.

“Don’t you know?” She asked as if she was trying to get him to dig down deep inside and pull the insight out.

Now he was confused. He had always been good at digging out information from the most unlikely places. But this didn’t seem like information he could discovery through research.

He looked down at his hands. She had been holding them all along and he didn’t realize it. Her hands exuded some kind of energy from them. The energy felt like joy and peace and happiness. It was at that moment he saw that the two of them. They were levitating a good foot in the air.

“Don’t think,” she whispered. “Just enjoy.”

Honoring Earth Day

Calypso by John Denver

Today is Earth Day. It is a day to remember how much our Mother means to us. Jacques Cousteau committed his life to reminding us of the wonder of the world we live in. The Calypso was the ship he voyaged the seas of this planet. In honoring the Calypso, John Denver honors the work Jacques Cousteau and others do to save our Mother from what we are doing to her and our fellow creatures.

Take a moment and think of all the beauty the Earth gives us. The sunrises and the sunsets. The robins and the butterflies. The snowy mountain peaks and the valleys sown with green. The clear streams and the seas teeming with life. The polar bears and the snow leopards. The penguins and the dolphins. Think about what we are losing. Say a prayer, do something, and don’t keep silent.

Son of Mary

Happy Easter everyone. Inspired by Leonard Cohen.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Look down into the valley.
Don’t you feel the thrill
of worship, of the praises?
So don’t resist. Take the pill.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Change the water into wine.
Let them drink their fill.
Feed the empty and the hungry
till they’ve had their meal.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Give us your tales and stories.
Heal the blind and the ill.
Teach us wisdom; teach us Truth.
Teach us the false from the real.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Spread your arms till they are wings.
Surrender your will.
Let the blood flood below.
Then the earth shall be still.