I’m sure you’ve grown weary of sunset pictures, but tonight was different.  The lake was very quiet, and the last glow of sunlight behind the mountains was disappearing when I heard a trumpet.

Someone somewhere along the bay played “Taps”.  And it was beautiful.

Thank you, whoever you are.  That was an unexpected gift at the end of an intense day.

I drove to Montana bright and early this morning for a memorial service and Mass.  Children, grandchildren, great grandchildren gathered to say goodbye to their mother.  As is typical whenever this large family is together, there was music.  And enormous amounts of food.   And friends were welcomed with open arms.  The service took place outside on the lawn facing the river, amidst the gardens and the little pond with the waterfall.  It was beautiful.

There were many shared memories.  And, of course, the underlying sadness that comes with the reality of knowing that nothing will ever be the same again and there’s not a damn thing you can do to change it.

As I drove away, back onto the highway to head west to town, I put a New Orleans Dixieland Jazz cd in the player and turned the volume way up.  It’s hard to cry when Dixieland is blasting in your ears.  An hour later I was in town, doing errands and checking things off my lists (yep, I had 3 lists, don’t know why).

I joined Dancing Mandolin Player (who brought me raspberries on ice in a cooler!!!) and Retired Mountain Lady for music lessons.  We sang a lot.

It sure felt good.  Our teacher suggested this song for us because the harmonies sounded like something we could do.  Here’s Wanda Jackson’s version, in case you’re curious.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40NouppHMz4

Banjo Man, Sons 1 & 2 and I saw Wanda two years ago in Texas and she was quite a character.  In her late 70’s, wearing a red sequined Western outfit that made me drool with envy, she told stories about life on the road when an unknown singer named Elvis Presley opened for her.  She flashed the huge diamond ring he’d given her and sang the Rockabilly songs that made her famous.  I worked my way to the front of the crowd so I wouldn’t miss anything.

When the show was over and Wanda triumphantly wobbled off the stage, my eldest son–who had been very skeptical about my late-in-life plan to become a musician–turned to me and chuckled. “Well, Mom, if she can get up there and do that, I guess you can, too.”

I’ve wanted a pair of red cowboy boots ever since.

Oh, how I love rockabilly and honky tonk.  And sequined skirts.

Montana mornings.  Friends who hug.  Sunsets accompanied by “Taps”.

Good night, everyone.

Do something you love tomorrow.

I think I’ll make a raspberry pie.  What about you?

day is done

gone the sun

from the lake, from the hill, from the sky

all is well

safely rest

God is nigh