Falling into place

I gotta say, I'm happy to be home. And by home, I do mean the Berkshires. If you read this blog, you know that's a big deal.

It's not just because of my own bed and kitchen and my love. It's because little chipmunks scamper across the trail when I go running. My garden really needs weeding and the compost needs to be turned. There is a nip in the air that is kind of exciting because I haven't felt a real Fall in 7 years. There are apples to be picked and sweaters to be knitted.

I'd gotten really good at not caring about all these things, maybe because they aren't my favorite things ever and maybe because I just couldn't have them in Texas. But now they are here and I've got them, so I'm going to enjoy this first Autumn as best I can.

Summer Hibernation?

Many musicians tour all summer and stay home in the winter writing and recording and storing up energy for the next busy Summer, but Summer is when I want to be home. When my garden is growing and producing flowers and food. When I want to cook dinner on the grill and have friends over for the evening or the weekend. When the sun comes up early and stays up til 9pm, so I don't mind sitting in my bright office working at 8am with coffee or 6pm with a Mojito. Summer is when the Berkshires are full of activity and people and events, so I can pedal my bike to the Guthrie Center and hear some folk music or take a picnic to Jacob's Pillow for a dance performance. This is when I get inspired to sit on the porch and practice my banjo or open all the windows and play beginner piano for all the neighborhood to hear. Summer is when I want to spread out an old blanket on the grass (well, clover) in the backyard and read a book. And if I fall asleep and don't wake up until Mr. Ding-a-ling comes by with his truck full of frozen treats, not to worry. That's what summer is for. Any given week in July, 20% of the country on is vacation anyway, so you usually get a break if you don't respond to email right away.

When I complain about winter, the dark, the cold, the stillness, most people tell me to embrace it. They say I should take the opportunity to rest, plan for the warm seasons, write music, read, take up skiing, knit, sleep. And that does sound really nice. I like all those things. But there is something chemical that happens to me, to lots of people, and it just feels sad to stay home. And I start to get a little crazy. I want to go the bed early, like at 7pm. And if I'm not in bed then, I might be whining and crying and generally freaking out. And most of the world is still out there working, so it doesn't really do to completely shut down for 4 months.

Years ago, when I was waiting tables in Maine, I learned that if I kept busy during those early evening hours, life was a lot better. I'd go to work around 4, just as the sun was setting and run around serving mussels and pinot noir until about 10. Before I had a chance to look up, I'd made it through the difficult part of the day and it actually was time to go to bed.

It's really unusual for me to have a whole month of no shows, but I'm right in the middle of that. It is kind of unsettling, I tend to forget who I am and what I do when I'm not performing for so long, but I am enjoying a gorgeous summer. And more importantly, I have the time to completely fill up my Fall and Winter calendar. I want as few off nights as possible in those cold dark months. I want to take trips to Florida, Texas and California and thumb my nose at Winter.

Seasons are nice. I like natural rhythms and all that. It's been such fun watching my garden grow and change, but I just can't do the winter hibernation thing. I'm a disaster in the dark and cold. I've got to keep moving, keep myself under those artificial stage lights, and trick my body into thinking it's the growing season. And then if I need to rest, I'll invest in a hammock for next summer.

Off to search for a list of winter festivals in the South.... I think I'll just do that with a Push-Up.

Last Days as a Texan/ Massachusetts for better or worse

My last night in Texas was really bittersweet. A bunch of friends met up at Polvo's and I gorged myself on Mexican food and margaritas. Then we headed over to the legendary Donn's Depot where my producer Chris Gage holds down the piano on Mondays. I sang a few with him and said goodbye to too many of my favorite people. The only reason I'm even letting myself think about it now is because I'm going to Austin 3 weeks. Yay!

Winker took these pictures that night.



I can't help comparing the two places, even though there really is no need. I mean, can't each state be good in it's own way? Can't I have a happy life in two states? Actually, I've always wanted like 5 houses. But right now, I have one, and it's in the Berkshires.

And here how it is Better:
*Mass Turnpike beats I-35. Hands down, no contest. I'll take trees over billboards any day.

*I can walk to the Post Office. And it's so cute! And there's never more than one other person in line.

*My home office has 4 big windows, so I can watch the snow covering the street.

*No social life = cooking at home. I love cooking, it's cheap and healthy!

*Fresh Air at 7pm instead of The World. Sorry Marco Worman.

*I get to run around here, the awesome cemetery. It's not Town Lake, but I don't have to drive to get there, just walk out the door.

And here's how it is Worse:
*No breakfast tacos.

*No Shiner Bock.

*No two-stepping.

*Aforementioned no social life.

*Dry skin.

*Seemingly all day call-in shows on public radio. (One day they actually had people call in to talk about the weather. And then they ask for money??!!)

*The music "scene" has yet to reveal itself. (Actually some people laughed at me when I said I was excited to get to know the local scene!)

But many of these problems have solutions. (Knitting club. Lotion. KUT iPhone App. Drive to Northampton.) So I'm not too worried yet. And the thing that is the same and totally awesome is that I still get to drive around and play music and visit all my favorite places. Now Austin is on my visit list. But I'm gonna make it a long one this time.

What is home?

I don't want to lose my Texas self. Already I feel the Northeast creeping in to my psyche. I'm telling myself it's not so cold at 40 degrees. I'm looking forward to snow. I'm thinking puffy coats are kind of cute and tall trees that I once complained blocked the sky are nice and shady. Fireplaces are cozy and hardwood and tall ceilings are a good substitute for concrete floors and open kitchens. Creative vegetarian food everywhere is worth giving up easy access to the best pork ribs I've ever tasted. Wait, I'm not there yet. In fact, I want to go to Luling right now! I know I have to do this to survive and be happy, but it's sad and confusing for my identity.

All these past 6 1/2 years, I've been learning to be a Texan, to use frontage roads, to know good BBQ and to automatically say "Y'all." I think the desert and scruffy juniper are beautiful, and I adore Live Oak trees, with their 200 year old sprawling limbs that stay green all winter. I've lived in Texas more than anywhere else, and I was just starting to feel like I had a home state, not just because of the years spent here, but because I wanted to be here and it made sense with who I am. If I live in Massachusetts, what does that mean? Does it mean I've abandoned my home? Does that mean something else is more important to me than place? That a person, a relationship, a job opportunity actually means more to me than the city or state or region I live in? I guess so, and that is pretty cool, but humbling, too. Because I admit that I have judged people before - country singers from Brooklyn- I've never believed them. Even though their lives may have been more full of rural life and tradition than mine, I have felt that because I lived in Texas, I was a more authentic artist. Who cares if I live in Austin, the fastest-growing, most educated, youngest, transient, artsy, latte-drinking, Prius-driving city in Texas, we still know how to Two-Step, even in the gay bars. Do I lose my legitimacy when I leave, or just my self-righteousness? And is that such a bad thing?

What scared me the most is that I'll lose the ability to call myself a Texan. Even though I've had to qualify it (I was born in Alabama), I realize it has felt good to have an answer when people ask me where I'm from. Even with all the explanations (We moved a lot, my Mom lives in Ohio...), when I said I was from Texas, it was really starting to feel true, emotionally at least. I'm from these big skies and long wide roads. I'm from these friendly people who brand everything with stars and add hot peppers to their cooking and turn on the air conditioning in December. I drink Shiner Bock beer and margaritas, because that's what we drink. We. Us Texans. Will I get to say that anymore? Will I feel that? Will Texas just recede in my identity and be just another place I've lived? Will I start to feel like a Massachusettsian (what are they called?) or a New Englander? or just rootless?

All this capitulating to the cold has reminded me of how adaptable I am. I pick up accents and colloquialisms everywhere I go. I'm open to new foods and have a great sense of direction. Lately, I've been taking comfort in my ability to adapt to new situations, fit in and change. It might be an even bigger part of my identity that my Texan-ness. I enjoy and crave going to new places, and for a while I even took pride in that. It felt cool to say that I'm from all over, I don't need a home. But in Austin, with all these friends, I made one anyway, almost without trying. And maybe I can adapt to a new place and make new friends and learn to love it, but will I make a home again?

It's always been pretty easy for me to move, and I had chalked that up to my adventurous spirit, but I've never really left a home. I've left places I knew I couldn't stay (college) and places I knew I didn't fit in (Portland). Now I'm up to a real challenge.

Massachusetts, please take it easy on me. Just give me a mild February, and I'll compost and honk my horn and eat chowder and even try snow-shoeing.

Austin, leave the light on.

The Moving Announcement

So, I debated about going public with this information. I thought maybe I'd tell my close personal friends and family, but not my mailing list, and I would not send out a press release. But I'm really no good at keeping secrets, especially when this is such a huge part of my life, something I think about all day, Twitter about, and will probably end up writing a song or two about.

And the news is: I'm moving to New England. More specifically, to a tiny town in the Berkshires in Western Massachusetts. The reason is because my brilliant girlfriend (of almost 10 years) got a great job in development at Jacob's Pillow, or as she calls it "The Mecca of Modern Dance." She has such a passion for dancing, watching dance, and bringing dance to a wider audience, so this is the perfect fit for her. And the truth is that I can do my job form just about anywhere, so I'm going North too. And it's really hard to say goodbye to Austin. I love it here, I have so many friends and endless inspiration. But wasn't I the one who wrote the song(s) about leaving? About all the possibility of the unknown, the new friends I just haven't met yet? Kind of cool that my own words can buoy me up in a hard time.

Also, I'm going to keep traveling and playing music, like I always have, so I'll see Austin often. With the internet, status updates, skype and all the other whizbang programs, I can keep daily tabs on all my friends, and live in an international community like Angelina and Brad. Can someone just please get on that whole teleportation thing already so we don't have to deal with fossil fuels!?

So that's the big news. I don't expect to write a whole 'nother album about moving, but if you see me Twittering about wardrobe boxes, you'll know why. Can't wait to see you New Englanders more often and love you Texas more intensely when I'm back!