Wednesday, December 9, 2009


Wednesday December 9 2009

A special breeze floated through Owyhee this week.

A man, his wife, his fiddle, his mandolin.

The kind of people you pick out instantly at the airport. The kind of folks with which you feel an instant affinity, the kind that feel like immediate family from the first hug.

The kind of people the dogs and horses and cat crowd around.

Quiet and amiable. Warm hearts. Tranquil minds.

The kind of people that appreciate a place like this. The kind that just belong here.

He played for their supper. (Really, he just played because he could.) We listened.

My own live in the house. All day. The music poured from his soul. How does he store all this in his head?

They came and stayed a few days, then left an impression behind.

The music and the friendship remain in their wake.

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