I just right now figured out why I don't write more ( of course when you actually read this it won't be just right now, but go with it). Life on the farm is fucking ridiculously busy, and that's not the half of it. Spend a few moments in my mind and see if you don't need a stiff drink. Now it seems to me that farmers should, by all rights get to piss and moan at least as much as say, a Minnesota postal worker on a walking route in mid winter or a lion tamer lobbying for better safety gear, or a Sherpa guide putting up with the desecration of Mt. Everest.  It becomes a compare and contrast kind of thing. I just got back from two whole weeks on the eastern coast of america, in a quaint little college town called Princeton. My mommy lives there, and coming from her womb, as I do, I am inexorably drawn to the bond. My life of suffering, scratching out a living by clawing away at this rock pile and hoping to stay one step ahead of Death in all forms, only allows me to break away a couple of times a year for a measly ten to twelve days. Last year, in the spring, we conspired to build a trip around a Chris Thile concert at Richardson Hall on the splendid campus grounds. Mahmah was the driving force on the transformation of what was a "hall" really only fit for mud wrestling, into a magnificent venue for the arts, but especially music. Thile was on his "Bachtober Fest" tour and wove his way in and out of a musical mandolin tapestry that could only be described as masterful. It was freakin' Perfect. Don't say that very often. Didn't miss a note. Not a beat. Genius. We shook hands back stage and talked story a bit. My dreams for the next couple of night were full of laughter. So me and mah are doing our imitation of imitating mother and son being couch potahtoes. She, with her fifth crossword puzzle of the day and me watching the Players Championship. The munchie menu includes, brie, small rye bread squares, cold chicken, yummy pate of something, and an array of cookies which we dip into as we please. Take your choice of club soda or beer. I've got the mandolin within arms reach and she awaits the onset of Jeopardy,  a family tradition allowing us to see just how far behind the curve we really are. Hoo boy. She kicks the crap out of me each and every time. So mah gets up and takes a couple of steps to the computer, checks her mail and whaddaya know, Mr. Thile will be included in this years concert series in October. Not only that, he will be joined by Edgar Meyer. I'm beginning to kvell. So mah gives me a little eyebrow waggle and the conspiracy begins. Now spring and fall in Princeton could hardly be better timing. My arrival was in the midst of a retro winter hiccup but quickly segued into ideal Spring weather. Leaves pushing out everywhere, all shades of green. Flowering pear and cherry, crab apple blossoms, azaleas  of varied shades, pink and white dogwoods, wisteria and, lucky me, lilac in bloom with dandelions everywhere. And really that's not the half of it. I gained my usual four pounds ten ounces, mostly in goose fat and happy in doing so. Came back home to what I hoped would be a parched and dry environment with the hot and dry conditions that make this place so attractive to me, but NOoooooooo. More rain. Now some say that the "old" days are back, as in when this was the normal pattern, but I been out here a fuhrbit and can honestly say that mostly I don't remember, but that on balance over thirty four years, its been dryer than this, for sure. That much I do remember. If you see my propensity toward pissing and moaning beginning to surface, Well? In the interest of taking into consideration this shifting weather meme, we are moving into asparagus fed, farmed fish. Wait, no that's farmed fish and raised bed asparagus and golf ball trees. The dread fruit sucking moth bothers not a one of them. I do have to say that this rolling with the punches shit does get old. Urge to suppress P and M splooge weakening. Can't hold it in much longer. This solution orientation is good and all but its like the nagging mother in law, for whom you can do NOTHING right. "You think your done, sonny boy, c'mere." So next time you see a farmer, give us a hug and pay it forward. Had loads of fun playing with miss Meaghan at the Hana hou. Good to be back out playing. Meg is going to america to do some touring so I'm hoping to get my bud Nathan to come play with me for the next couple of months. Great singer song writer. Upbeat and with feeling. Been in touch with a couple of fellas from BCBC band, now sub-dubbed YumYum Beast and how cool is that? Like salsa just hot enough that you can't stop eating it, or every dessert that has ever tempted you to say no, and failed. Beware the YumYum Beast.Tried to beg my way into rehearsing a bit with them and then maybe sitting in at a gig or three. The response from Justin was, and I quote, "cool beans". Now I'm not from West Virginia, or Neptune, or wherever they use that expression, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that what that means is that he is open to the idea and to a certain degree shares my sentiment, but that he is not enthusiastic to the point at which he would respond "Hot beans". This is all completely kosher by me. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp