Folk School Day 2 - Getting Into It

Morning in the Hay Field

Even with the jet lag still holding on to me firmly, I was too excited to stay in bed long.  Besides, the reality of sharing a bathroom with four other rooms meant that the sooner I got my butt out of bed the better the chance I could get said butt into the shower.

I emerged clean and awake into a perfect sunrise.  As I live where humidity is a strict rarity, I forgot how truly "green" the morning can smell when the ground is soft with the morning dew and every leaf, every flower is heavy with moisture.  And the birds - oh, the birds!  There were hundreds of birds, most unfamiliar to me, cheeping and hooting their various songs into one cacophonous chorus of joy.

As we would each morning, the day here is begun with copious amounts of coffee and Morningsong, a tradition started by Olive Campbell herself.  This first morning of school is usually presided over by Jan Davidson, the current director of the school.  He regaled us with both song - accompanied by his fretless banjo - and stories of the school's beginning.  I found it a great way to start the morning and didn't miss a single Morningsong the whole week long.  Jan finished up just as the breakfast bell rung and we stampeded down to the dining hall for breakfast.

The "Farm House," Where the Teachers Stay 

Meals here have their own rhythm and traditions.  Before each meal the eager crowd into the screened porch and chat, the conversation usually limited to the projects at hand.  Once the bell rings we file in past the drinks and take a place behind a chair to await the blessing.  This is either a short one or two line song, or a short blessing.  Once said, we all sit down and the hosts and work study folks bring in the food.  Everything is served in big bowls, family style, which has a nice way of fostering conversation.  There is never any shortage of food, but no one really has time to overeat as there is so much work to get to.

I swear we never spent more than 20 minutes at any one meal.  Who wanted to eat while there were projects to work on, songs to learn, and stories to create?

Beehives In the Vegetable Garden

After breakfast was our first full day of class.  Today we worked on a fun little ditty called "Cripple Creek," a pretty well-known song that we would eventually perform at the closing ceremony on Friday.  Much to my chagrin, the song is rife with drop-thumb - my personal nemesis - and understandably it took a while to nail down.  I'm proud to say that by the end of the day I would play my way through it, drop-thumb and all, but it would take some time to get smooth with it.  We also began to work on another song titled "Old Joe Clark."  This one was thankfully drop-thumb-free, but it does have it's share of double-thumb notes, which kept that darn thumb of mine busy and caused much dismay on my part.  However, after hours of working on it I finally got my thumb to cooperate and by the evening I had a passable version of this song going as well.

Spring Has Sprung

David, our instructor, filled our day with music but also with countless stories about the history of old time mountain music and the banjo.  We spent a good amount of time after lunch watching some of the old footage he has collected, including some from the 20's and 30's recorded on hand-cranked cameras and overdubbed with wax cylinder recordings.  It was amazing to see the same tunes we were learning played almost 100 years ago the same way on the same sorts of instruments.

After an amazing dinner (mac & cheese with ham, fried okra, and cucumber salad - now who can argue with that?) some headed off to bed or to other workshops to see what other classes were doing.  For my part, I stopped by and watched the local clog dancing group practicing in the dance hall before heading off to my room for some much needed rest.  Our first full day at the school was amazing in so many ways and I couldn't help thinking that I had four more just like it coming up.

Jan Davidson is fond of telling folks that the population of nearby Brasstown has not changed in a hundred years.  When asked why, he replies dryly, "That because every time a local girl gets pregnant a boy leaves town."