Photo by Bob Block

The summer 2015 I moved my sewing shop from my home to Monterey Court on Miracle Mile in Tucson, Arizona. I was also still working at Arizona Department of Public Safety. It was a few months of driving from Casa Grande to 19th Ave and Encanto to the Phoenix DPS compound for work, then heading back to my home to eat, change clothes and head to Tucson to open my shop for the evening, that I had to make a decision as to whether I was going to keep working in two places, or pick one. I had signed a lease at Monterey Court and really wanted to sew full time, so, the “Monty” won out.
     Monterey Court is a 1938 motor court that has been vocationally rehabilitated by Greg Haver and Kelly McClear into a concert venue with dining and music six nights a week. All of those cozy little casitas where you and your family would have stayed while visiting Tucson, and probably Tucson Rodeo, are now artisan galleries.  
    Early in 2016 I noticed that there was not much going on in the courtyard on Sunday mornings. Weekdays, a lot of folks came for lunch and the courtyard was comfortably busy. But, Sundays were quiet until the evening concerts. So, I asked Greg what he thought about starting a Sunday Brunch and Music series and he was all in. 
    We started right away, Greg creating his brunch menu and me inviting local and some touring artists to participate. Lots of folks were eager to get in the weekly lineup. The plan of action was that I would open the show, allowing that initial rattle and clatter of orders taken and delivered to diminish before the guest artist took the stage. We swapped out back to back forty fine minute sets, so the music never stopped for three hours. Brunch and Music became the  Sunday morning destination for people near and far, often local performers coming out to enjoy getting to hear their friends play before heading off to their own gigs later that day.
     Some of the touring artists were Bernice Lewis, Keeter Stewart, Steve Spurgin, Silver Screen Cowboys, Journey West and Sentimental Journey, Mary Kaye Holt, Stewart MacDougall and Myran Shozz. Local artists were Ted Ramirez, Ismael Barajas, Joel Eliot, Dan McCorison, Lee Robert, Mae Camp, Way Out West, and I know I am forgetting some names here, so if you were there, remind me who I have missed. 

      Joel Eliot and myself at Sunday Brunch and Music. Photographer unknown 

     Especially enjoyable was pulling a band member away from their group and letting them fly free. Brian Fate, Don Armstrong from The Whiskeypalians, Earl Edmonson from Titan Valley Warheads, Peter McGlaughlin from The Sonoran Dogs. Every month that had four Sundays, Virginia Cannon brought her youth in training out to show us their skills, and it was always fun to see how the kids had grown those performance skills. 
    The photo above is Peter and I on the Sunday he performed for brunch. While we were setting up the stage,  we stepped together for a moment to discuss the game plan and suddenly we heard from the already arriving audience, “Look over here!” “Hey, look over here!” 
    There were so many people trying to get photos, I looked at Peter and said, “Where do we look first?” 
    He put his arm across my shoulder and said, “Okay, look left.” Click, click, click. “Now look right.” We were both laughing and so were the photographers. 
    After I played the first set and Peter was walking up to get on stage, he stopped me and said, “You were telling stories about your songs. Can I do that, too?”
    “That’s exactly why I invited you, Peter. You tell all the stories you want.”

    What a show that was! To get to hear directly from this consummate songwriter the stories behind his songs. 
    I’m telling you this because Peter is performing solo at the Arizona Folklore Preserve on December 6th and 7th, and you will not want to miss him. If you have not been to the preserve, it is a small room holding about fifty people. So, this is a house concert atmosphere, and the perfect place to see Peter solo. Tickets are $10 to $20 and you need to secure them right away. Visit the Arizona Folklore Preserve website to do that.

    Where to find me

    Thursday, November 20th at Monterey Court, 505 W Miracle Mile, Tucson for Songwriter Central hosted by Jonathan Frahm. I will be in the first round, and Syndenn Sweet is also in the first round. So, if you have heard her amazing harmony vocals on my Tall Tree album, you will get to hear them live this Thursday night.

    Saturday, November 22nd I am at the Laveen Folk Festival on the Hidden Hollow Stage at 10am. The Laveen Folk Festival runs from 9am to 6pm with many stages and many performers to see and hear, and is located at 2800 W Dobbins Road, Laveen, AZ 85339. They also have a Facebook page with lots of information and a performer schedule.

    Sunday, November 23rd, I am back at Monterey Court in Tucson for a pop up booth for my book, Autumn’s On Its Way, and then after the Sunday Brunch, I present a Meet the Author session where I perform the songs and poem from the book, read a short portion of the book for you and answer any questions you have about the process of writing Autumn’s On Its Way. Of course, copies of the book and the music will be available for sale any place you find me.

    I am looking forward to seeing you soon somewhere, and until then, may you and yours bless and be blessed,

    Nancy

About a week or so ago, we had some good rain here in the desert. What my Navajo friends would call a mostly “female rain,” a nurturing rain. Over the course of two days the rain fell rather gently most of the time, with the occasional sudden outburst from the wind and even some thunder and lightning tossed in for good measure. We had gone from winter to summer to winter, no spring or autumn gently easing us into the days of blistering them biting winds, so it was refreshing, to say the least, going outside that mild morning to find the desert washed clean to almost sparkling from its thick coating of dust left behind by an immeasurably long, hot summer.  I walked with my coffee to the landscape island in the back yard and took an East/Northeast facing seat on the still damp bricks. Looking upward I saw a Harris’s hawk sailing high in the beginnings of sunrise, searching over the desert floor for his breakfast, swooping low through the brush and rising high once again. He was probably showing one of the youngsters in the family how it’s done.

    Sitting on the wall, watching the desert, took me to the time when my parents came to visit me for the winter of 2012-2013.
    They were not in the best condition when they arrived. Obviously, they had not been eating well, or much.    But, one of the first things Dad told me was that he and his doctor had created a plan so Dad could live to be 100 years old. Another thing he told me was that he had planned his whole life around the fact that he was going to die first. Will, Estate, finances, long term care, everything was there for Mom to carry on and be comfortable after he was gone but, “By golly, this is the one thing your mother will not get her way on.”
    In the meantime, he wanted to explore the local restaurants and search out who made the best burger here in Arizona. So, we avoided the burger shops they had and home and went instead to Francisco Grande Resort, BeDillon’s, and The Big House Café, all mom and pop places. We also went to Firebirds Grill, but Dad declared their burgers way too big - too big for even his big hands and so, not enjoyable. “One shouldn’t have to cut a burger in two in order to eat it, unless you’re sharing it with someone.”  While BeDillon’s was Mom’s all around favorite place, Dad declared Francisco Grande Resort the hamburger blue ribbon winner. 
    We had some fun with that sort of thing and went to local events like the Parade of Lights Christmas parade in which their great granddaughter was marching for her Jr. High School. It meant to much to Dad that he stood up when her band went by so he could find her. We went to the Pinal County Agri-Fair and listened to The Sonoran Dogs bluegrass band followed by the Jam-Pak kids. Then, when it got too windy out, we headed inside the vendor barn to see what we could see. The usual foods and medicine shows abounded; we bought hot-dogs, fudge for our sweet tooths, and cure-all insoles for Dad’s shoes. 
     That winter, my friends, Jeanne and Jerome, were base camping in my front yard in their RV while they played music around the area, and when they were performing close by, we often went to see them. Jeanne and Mom would prepare some great meals together, and Dad always went back for second and thirds of Jeanne’s wonderful cooked-all-day stew and Mom’s cornbread. We did have to go clothes shopping twice during their stay because they both out grew the clothes they had brought with them.
        Jerome and Dad really hit it off and whenever those two volunteered to do the dishes we could hear them in the kitchen, laughing like school boys on a lark. Jerome came in the house every day and asked to play my Washburn Santa Fe guitar Mom had gifted me so many years ago. A Merle Travis champion thumb-picker, the music put a stop on everything else. We all stopped what we were doing and gathered to listen, the music even reaching outside, calling Dad in from his yard work to sit and enjoy.

     One of those evenings is when I learned the extent of Dad’s music experience. I knew my Grampa, Dad and his brothers had formed a horn band called “The Newsboys,” and repped for the Indianapolis Newspaper, as well as the railroad, and played the Masonic Lodges and Grange Halls and other dances in the tri-state area. On this particular evening, someone asked just the right question and Dad started talking about how he’d marched for the technical school he attended, was frequently on loan to the local high school marching band, and two university marching bands, and still managed to keep up with The Newsboys’ performances. 
     Dad got on a bit of roll that night, reminiscing about his decades of working for IBM.  When he told us that he had worked for the NASA Space Program and the Nuclear program, Mom gasped. “Robert, after all these years (70 at the time ) I never knew that. You never told me that, never said one word!” She was more astonished than upset. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this?” 
    “I couldn’t tell you, wasn’t allowed to tell you. But,” he chuckled, “I’m ninety years old now. What are they going to do to me?”    

    Dad and I sometimes would sit on the landscape wall and have coffee together. One such late morning he asked me, “What type of tree is that straight out there? It looks dead, like it’s had a hard time getting along.”
    “It’s a Mesquite, Daddy. There are several types out here, and they all look pretty bedraggled and gnarled when they’re dormant.” Back Ohio, where I grew up and they still lived, the Oaks, Walnuts and Maples always looked so stately after losing their leaves. The Oaks sometimes keeping a few red-brown leaves hanging on until the spring buds knocked them off.

    He was quiet a minute. “Well, I like it. It reminds me of myself; kinda bent every which-a-way.”

    It was a few days later that I drove them to a get acquainted visit with my Doctor, just so they would have a familiar face if any issues came up while they were in Arizona. They asked me to be in the room with them for the visit, and I watched while Dr. Bray, being his usually kind and attentive self, had won them both over. When he asked them if they had any questions or concerns, Dad said yes, that he was concerned he was getting Alzheimer disease. 
    Dr. Bray asked what kind of work Dad had done and for how long. When Dad answered, “IBM for more than 40 years.” The good doctor’s eyebrows went up.

    “Are you doing any of that work now?”

    “No, just genealogy on my laptop, other family history stuff.”

    “How long has it been since you did that sort of work?”

    “About eighteen years.”

    “Well,” Dr. Bray said, “Literally, if you don’t use it, you lose it. Especially these days when technology is advancing at warp speed. Those computers you used to design, build and repair were once as big as buildings, right?”

    Dad nodded.

    “And now this,” Dr. Bray presented his work phone, “There’s one or two different computers in this gadget here.”

    Dad nodded.

    “And that’s confusing.”

    Dad nodded and gave a half smile.

    “Let me explain in a nutshell. When you regularly hide your car keys from your self, that is not Alzheimer’s. When you find your keys, and you don’t know what they are, or what they are for, that is when you get concerned.”

    As we all stood and headed out the exam room door, Dad exiting after Mom and me,
Dr. Bray said, “Just a minute, Robert. I want to tell you that I don’t have any other ninety year old men who walk out of this room without assistance.”

    Dad stood up a few inches taller in that moment. Something he was worried about had just floated away, off his shoulders. 
    He didn’t make it to 100 years old. Later in 2013, Mom was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer and Dad gave up. He passed away that October,  Mom followed him in March.

    I never did think Dad was bent every which-a-way. He is still a giant to me. Fred Astaire graceful and elegant in his tuxedo; quick on his toes, perfectly guiding Mom around the dance floor so her ball-gown would makes it appear they are flying, still.

31 July, 2024

Dearest friends and readers,
   August is upon us! 
   Growing up in Ohio, August was the time of the Greene County Fair, a herald of fall. It’s when we started gathering our things together for the coming school year which began right after Labor Day. In my neck of the woods, it was also the time we kids started watching for the farmers to roll out their old steam tractors and set up alongside their corn fields. We could walk into the field and pick fat ears right from the stalk, hand them to the farmer and he would steam them for us there on the spot, then he’d peel back the husks and dip the cob into a bucket of melted butter. Oh, my, such goodness! Of course we would let our moms know so they could come and pick a bushel or so for later. My mom often bought enough to freeze whole kernel. And we would soak unhusked ears in water, them steam them in the oven or on the grill.
     I often joke with folks about how one of the tests we kids had to pass to get our driver’s license was knowing where we were by the type of corn in the fields because, just before harvest, it would grow tall enough to hide the street signs. 
   It’s fun to recall those days, and how, soon, there would be the smell of wood smoke and burning leaves, apple picking time, sunny days and nipped noses and cheeks, first day of school. 
   Where ever you live now, or lived then, I’d love to hear your memories of fall. When you reply to this email, your reply comes only to me, so, don’t be shy!

   New addition to the August Calendar ! The Beaded Lizard Gathering 
   I will be performing at the Beaded Lizard Gathering on Wednesday, August 7th.  There is an open jam starting at 6pm and I will play at 7:15 to 8 -ish. I will be performing my songs from both the Tall Tree and Bluebirds albums, especially the songs from the Autumn’s On Its Way book. 
Songwriter Central at Monterey Court August 15, 6PM 
National Writer's Union, Tucson Chapter August 19th, a private event

   If you have your copy of Autumn’s On Its Way, the novel, and would like to have it signed, please bring it with you. If you don’t have a copy, I will have some on hand for you to purchase as well as CD’s. And, you can always  purchase from the website, use the discount code 
Event Pick Up to remove postage cost,  and pick up at any event, just let me know in the notes which event that will be.   
   Do you know some one who would enjoy Desert Dispatches but is not handy with the internet? Let them know they can receive this newsletter directly in that good old mailbox at the end of the driveway. You can sign them up, or they can give me a call at 520-705-5901 and let me know. 
   In a day or two, I will begin posting a new topic in the blog titled “Coming Back.” Keep watch for it, it’s gonna be different.
   I am very much looking forward to getting to see you all and sing my songs for you once again. It seems like such a very long time since we’ve been together.
Until then, may you and yours be deeply blessed.
Love,
Nancy 
    

November Desert Dispatches

Hello Friends,
    Here’s hoping this finds you and yours well and happily preparing for the holiday season.
The weather is co-operating here in the Great Sonoran Desert with night time temps in the 40's and day time 70's.  Good stuff!  When the heat comes off the world changes for the better, the pressure is relieved,  people are even nicer and it seems they don’t drive quite as insanely. Well, perhaps that is just me wishing.

    There is much to share. 
    Last week Mackie and I jumped in with Dave and Katy McCann - you ‘ve seen them play music with me in various places like Heber City, Moab, Sierra Vista, and Phoenix North Mountain Visitor Center  - and we went to Hereford, Arizona to visit our friend’s ranch and see another friend, Patty Clayton,  perform at the Folklore Preserve in Ramsey Canyon. 
     Well, guess who was also at the ranch... Kate Ladson! Kate is the cowgirl I wrote “The Stronghold” for  way back in 2013. Although we all visit on the phone, I have not seen Kate face to face since she came to the CD release party for the Bluebirds Singing On The Buffalo Road album in 2021. She is now living in Hereford and is back to her usual work of these days, teaching riding lessons. 
    Now, Kate is one of the best there is out there to ride with. Having worked with and learned under the Dorrence brothers - top hand cowboys and horsemen of the finest  ilk and notoriety,  and was trail guide for Canada’s most loved performer, Ian Tyson, on several of his visits to the desert - if you ride with Kate, you are learning more than just how to stay in the saddle. You are learning relationship with your horse. Kate helps people with their horses, and horses with their people. And, she’s a great person and a hoot to be around. If you are looking for an exemplary riding experience, I am happy to connect you with Kate. 
    If you have not been to The Folklore Preserve, it is a must-add to your list of places to enjoy music. The Folklore Preserve is situated in one of the best birding destinations in Arizona. In fact, you can stay at the Ramsey Canyon Inn, venture into the preserve,  and make it back in time for the matinee shows at The Folklore Preserve. From the Casa Grande area, it’s a pretty easy 2.5 hours down I-10 to the Sierra Vista exit, go on through town and you’ll see the turn for Ramsey Canyon. The concerts are on Saturday and Sunday from 2-4 pm and both days feature the same performer or band. You can look up the Folklore Preserve on line, or drop me a note and I will send you one of their beautiful brochures.

    UPDATE ON THE HOUSE CONCERTS
    Sadly, the return of the house concert series has been delayed due to a huge well being drilled next door to me. They have been there for several months preparing to install a system to support two subdivions and a chip plant. Sigh....  So, as soon as they have cleared out and all of the dust and noise - lots of clanging, banging and huge generator noise that comes into my house at all hours - I will get the series on the calendar. I know you will love the folks I have in mind.

    AUTUMN”S ON ITS WAY
    Here are two very nice reviews of late.
    “ Folks may be hanging out, waiting for the sequel. Let’s face it, the trees are still to fruit, calves to brand, and there’s way ore reality than Yellowstone!” 
 Diana, owner and master braider at DB Braiding, Australia

    “ Thank you for such a wonderful and compelling story. Adventure, intrigue, mystery, love - it’s all there! We will all want the next adventure novel in this series, even if it’s another two years. Nancy, dear, your talents are limitless!”    Zia - ranch owner

    These are so inspiring as I am deep into writing book two. I hope they inspire you to purchase a copy for yourself. 
    Now through the holiday season there is no shipping on Autumn’s On Its Way.
    And only $2. shipping when you add the CD “Bluebirds Singing On The Buffalo Road,” which has the songs from the book.  Don’t  have a CD player?  That’s okay! When you buy the CD you get the digital version instantly in your email to add to your music player, and I will ship the hard copy to some one you know  who does have a CD player (stateside only please). 
    
    
    Where to find me;

    Superior, Arizona City Library     99 Kellner, Ave, Superior, Arizona 85173
    Friday December 27th,  1-2 pm for a Meet the Author event.
    I am excited to be presenting the song that inspired Autumn’s On Its Way, the novel and the poem and songs that were inspired by writing the book. I will answer questions about my writing process, and also reading the first chapter of the book to the audience. Plenty of copies of Autumn’s On Its Way and Bluebirds Singing On The Buffalo Road, which contains the songs from the book,  will be on hand to purchase.

    Maricopa City Library and Cultural Center Maya Angelou Drive, Maricopa, Az 85139
    Saturday, January 4th, 1-2 pm for a Meet the Author event.
    I am excited to be presenting the song that inspired Autumn’s On Its Way, the novel and the poem and songs that were inspired by writing the book. I will answer questions about my writing process, and also reading the first chapter of the book to the audience. Plenty of copies of Autumn’s On Its Way and Bluebirds Singing On The Buffalo Road, which contains the songs from the book,  will be on hand to purchase.

    FREE EVENT!  Saturday, January 11th 1-3 pm,  I will be presenting “The Heart Of It All,” a song, story and poetry concert at Maricopa Campus of Central Arizona College, 17945 N. Regent Dr. Maricopa, AZ 85138
    This concert is specially hand crafted to inspire you to tell your story, to leave your spiritual legacy for your family, or for others to find and learn from  and be encouraged by. 
Please read more about The Heart Of It All on my website. Being your family and friends. This concert is appropriate for ages 12 and up.

Well, that’s a lot! But it’s all for now. I will send you a note if something new pops up on the calender. 
Remember, I love to hear from you, so please send along your stories and questions, and reviews.

Until next time, I wish all of you a restful, peaceful and  blessed Thanksgiving holiday

                                                                      The Lincoln

    In 2005 my parents bought their first new car ever - A Lincoln Signature Town Car. That fall, when they flew out to visit me, Mom was so excited to tell me all about it. As I recall, the story goes like this.
     After sixty two years of marriage and buying only used cars they decided it was high time to treat themselves to something brand new, and off they went to a local dealer.  Mom spied  a pretty spiffy Buick, Dad made the deal, and they headed to the bank so Dad could get cash to pay for it. 
    However, as they were re-entering the car lot,  Mom saw a baby blue Lincoln she hadn’t noticed before and wanted to take a look. She said that as soon as she opened the door, she was sure the Lincoln was the car for her, and when she sat in the driver’s seat, it was confirmed. The powder blue, leather seats were soft as butter and smelled wonderful. The adjustable brake and gas pedals were perfect for a 5'2" lady. It was solid, the doors closed with authority, and she felt so safe driving it, even on the Interstates. 
    “Just so you know, I left it to you in my will. But, don’t tell your brother, you know he will start shit over it.”  My mom was every inch a lady, and so she knew just exactly how and when to cuss - irregularly enough so that it startles folks and they pay attention to what is said. 
    My response was, “Okay.” So I didn’t. I never told anyone in or out of my family and, actually forgot about it right away, never giving it another thought. Until...
    October of 2013 my father passed away at 90 years old. I loaded up and drove to Ohio for the funeral and my daughters flew out to meet me there. My eldest and I were just today talking about Dad’s funeral, and how it seemed so surreal, something out of a movie even. It was raining and dismal all day. The Scottish Rite gave a service. As the bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” and “Going Home”, their call rattled our bones and broke our hearts even further.  
    That night, back at Mom and Dad’s house, we girls, being my daughters, my two sisters, my nieces and their daughters, and my sister-in-law, were all up in Mom’s room “tucking her in.” Mom asked me to go get my guitar and sing “Inseparable From My Heart” for her. I did, but really struggled through. My girls rescued me by asking for some silly songs, then, in between tunes, Mom looked right at me and said, “You still want the Lincoln, don’t you.” It was not a question, but nonetheless I startled. First, I hadn’t thought about it since 2005, and second, no one was supposed to know about it. Instantly she realized what she had done and said, “Well, I guess I let that cat out of the bag, didn’t I ?”  I looked around the room and saw that everyone was looking at me with a “Whaaat?” expression. Everyone except my brother’s wife,  who was looking quite upset. 
    Let’s say that my parents had an estate plan because it was and is a smart thing in regard to protecting any real assets one might have. Also, let’s say that, if one person were going to get everything in my parent’s estate, that “one person” would not be even close to retiring. There was not that kind of money in their estate. And, so, I didn’t think about it at all after that night. Not one whit. But, the “trouble” Mom spoke of started before I left the house to come home, followed me all the way to Arizona, and stayed quite a while. 
    Someday, I may tell that entire story. Maybe, maybe not. For now, I will say it was quite traumatic, in that my brother, in his infinite executor power trip, declared me a danger to my mother and I was not allowed in the house or to see her again before she died. But, in the spring, Mom followed Dad home, and that fall, when I flew to Ohio to pick up the Lincoln, it had merely 22K miles on the odometer. It was an interesting trip to say the least. I got to visit with my eldest sister, and together we sorted through what entitlements that had been put into storage for me.  Afterwards, I swung down through Tennessee to see another sister there, cut through Nashville where I wrote  “Cold Night In Nashville,” and then on through Oklahoma where I wrote the words to “A Crazy Horse.”

    I was very pleased and blessed to have the Lincoln given me as a gift. Why Mom chose me, I can only guess and would probably be wrong. Mom did what she wanted and got  what she wanted. The winter of 2012-2013, they came to spend a few months here in Arizona, and Dad often told me he had planned his whole life that he was going to die first, and “this is the one thing your mother is not going to get her way on.”

    As soon as I got home and registered the car in Arizona, I tried to get a specialty plate that said THXMOM, but then and the ten years since, that plate has been unavailable. I have many, many good reasons to say “Thanks, Mom,” and November 4th, 2023 is the goodest reason.
    I was heading to the gym late morning on that day, when I was broadsided by someone who ran a stop sign. I was hit primarily on the driver’s side B pillar and rear passenger door. It was a pretty hard smack, and I didn’t see it coming until the grill of the other car was in my left lower peripheral vision the moment before impact. I did not hit the brake but took my foot off the gas, passing on through the intersection and looking up in my review mirror for the other car. I watched it pass through the intersection and so turned around to follow. Yep, they were trying to get away, but the impact  had damaged the front end of their compact car badly enough they were literally hopping down the road, finally pulling over. I pulled in behind and called 911 who sent Fire and Police. They both arrived before I hung up with dispatch. 
    It took two Firemen to get the driver’s side doors open, having to open the rear door first. I was told I did right by not exiting the Lincoln on the passenger side because of the type of impact. But, as soon as the doors were open, one Fireman gave me his hand to help me out and, before he let go, he pointed to the car and told me, “This car saved your life.” I told him my Mom left me the car when she passed away. 
    The Rescue medics checked me out and afterward I was leaning on the Lincoln, waiting for my turn with the Police. The Fireman came back to me and said he knew I was very upset about my car, that his sister-in-law had inherited a Lincoln from her mother. That Lincoln had tiny Looney Tunes characters dancing all along the side like pin-striping because her whole family was into Looney Tunes. He knew that car meant the world to her. 
    I told him that I always wanted to get a plate that said, “Thx Mom.”
           “This car saved your life,” he told me again. 

           “Thanks, Mom. It’s not the first time you saved my bacon, that’s for certain.” Mom gave me the Lincoln for a reason she never revealed. Maybe it was a Mom’s intuition.  And, she always got her way. Well, nearly always, huh Dad?
    
    After a couple of months of trying to find ways to keep my Lincoln, I have had to accept that the insurance companies are in control. I understand. The cost of repair is more than 40% of the value. In this case, even with under 80K miles on it, because of the age of the car, the estimates for cost of repair are as much as 105% of the value. I can’t do that. 
    But, Thanks Mom. Your love and generosity paid off in boatloads. I’ll see you later rather than sooner.

© Nancy Elliott & Sonoran Desert Sage Publishing 2024
email   NancyElliottMusic@gmail.com
Phone 520.705.5901
 

Desert Dispatches 28 April, 2024

Hello Friends!
           I hope you are well and happy and full of Springtime.
           We desert dwellers are enjoying cool weather right now, which “they” tell us is right on target for this time of year. So today, we are taking full advantage and sharing a music session on back screened porch.
           I am writing this while waiting for musician friends and listeners to arrive, and it will be a stellar gathering with Linda Bilque, Ismael Barajas, Dave and Kathleen McCann, Barbara Herber and Dave Baumann. 
            It is always a refreshing, uplifting and edifying time when we gather and share music, stories, ideas, catch up on where we’ve been and what we’ve been up to. We start early and end when it’s over;  within a few hours, or when the stars come out. No rules, no one is required to play. The last porch music session I played one song. It’s just as enjoyable to sit and listen, watch the player’s faces as they listen or play along, and watch the faces of the other listeners. And, rumor has it that Ismael's wife, Ramona, is bringing enchiladas for the potluck.

                      Here’s an exciting thing Happening for you to participate in ! 
         This Thursday, May 2nd I will be on Interview With A Writer Out West, hosted by Jim and Bobbi Bell, for my book, Autumn’s On Its Way, and the accompanying songs. 
Henry Parke - film edited for True West Magazine is also on this Thursday, and the first Thursday of every month. He's a sharp guy and always has a question or two. The first 6 minutes of the show are his- he'll present the latest news on what's happening in Western film and TV. 
Where can you watch or listen live?
*airs LIVE at 6:00-6:50pm (PST)
*listen to the audio on LA Talk Radio's Website - Click Listen Live on Right Side
https://www.latalkradio.com/content/rendezvous-writer 
*watch on Facebook  -  
https://www.facebook.com/WritersOutWest/  

               How can you  catch the show after it's aired? 
*at the same Facebook address (video)
*at the same LA Talk Radio address  (video or audio)
*Audio only - Podbean - https://rendezvouswithawriter.podbean.com/ 
From Podbean they can choose Spotify, IHeartRadio, etc.  

I hope you get the chance to listen in, and I think you will like to keep this program on your list of favorites. I have worked with Jim and Bobbi in the past and it is always a fun time.

             There have been some changes to the website. The format and scheme mostly, but I have added a photo gallery page and will be uploading photos with stories and more video, of all kinds, for you to enjoy. I am also considering broadcasting a live performance once in a while, and would like to know what you think about that. It might be fun for you folks who are shut ins or live too far away to catch the stage performances, and I will be hosting other musicians. Let me know what you think.

       As we all know, Mother’s Day is not far off and, let's include Father’s Day with that heads up. So, now through Father’s Day you can take advantage of  a special in the Music & Bookstore. 
       When you buy a copy of Autumn’s On Its Way, for yourself or as a gift, you will receive a copy of the album “Bluebirds Singing On The Buffalo Road” which contains the song that inspired the book, and most of the songs which were inspired  by the writing of Autumn’s On Its Way. Just let me know in your purchase notes if you would like the CD or digital format, if the book should be signed to you, or as a gift to someone else, and where to send that gift.

   By the way, the porch music was wonderful. It’s so good to know these folks who love to play music and, most especially, love to share that music. Two of my grand children, who are 18 and 16 years old,  came today and received such an abundance of encouragement and musical love from the great musicians in the circle, they were still talking about it on the drive to their house.  I would never dream it would be any other way. Music is the language which connects across the ages. And, the enchiladas were top notch!

   Please check the calendar for updates, and keep an eye on the photo gallery - I’m going to get started in there real soon.

          Until we meet again, many blessings to you and yours,
   Nancy
 

Desert Dispatches and Hay
     Hello friends,
    Welcome to new Desert Dispatches members and I thank you for signing up and cruising through my website!
    This summer was particularly rough for number of reasons, heat playing a huge part. But, with this wonderful weather  - not too hot, not too cold - it’s been quite enjoyable to it on the screen porch to read, write, take a meal, or, just sit. 
    Another reason last summer seemed extraordinarily long was that last April a huge well digging project set up about 150 yards from my house. The drill apparatus was tall enough to require a strobe at the top to warn aircraft and there were two giant generators running the equipment. My quiet setting in the desert seemed as if I was living next to a giant disco car wash. At night, the strobe light flashed in my windows. All hours the ground trembled, windows rattled, a guitar hanging on the wall in the living room hummed constantly;  dust rolled and the noise of the generators was regularly overwhelmed by concussive bangs as heavy equipment dropped pipe and freight car sized metal containers on the ground. 
    Three days ago, they packed up, and the sudden silence was breathtaking. It wakes me in the night now, and I say, “Oh, thank You, Lord!”
    But, the long, hot summer did devastate my yard. It became a dust bowl and  will take a season or two to return. In the meantime, to ease both Mackie and my need for green for our eyes and sense of smell,  I went to the local hay barn and bought eight bales of fresh Bermuda. Alfalfa would have been the ticket, but they were sold out, so I got what we could haul and my daughter, Cory, and I spread the fragrant stems and leaves over my back yard. As we went along we recalled how we missed throwing hay to livestock. Sometimes, because it was so tall, we used a ladder to then sit back to back on top of an 88 bale squeeze, using our feet to push the bales off, then moving them to the hay shed.  
    Maybe we spread this hay a little too thick - eight bales only covered about 1/4 of the yard - but, as we run and play we are scattering it more, helping it work into the ground where, hopefully, it will send some nutrients down into the hungry earth. It’s a wonderful scene, looking and smelling like a fresh cut field.  Its fragrance is there every time we step outside the door. Mackie loves to romp in the hay, pretending to lose her ball in it and diving in like a kid in a snow drift. Sometimes just a little thing can change perspective, lift a weight off shoulders, lift a spirit. It’s quiet again and the air smells of fresh hay. Life is good.