Saturday Single No. 390

This is a season of busy Saturdays. There are normal errands to run, and yard chores call. Now that the snow has melted once more – for the final time this spring, one hopes – we can attend to the thick layer of last autumn’s leaves covering most of the lawn.

If it were up to me, I’d call our landlord and mention that we need the leaves removed, and without complaint, he’d have Steve the Yard Man come by and clear the lawn. But last weekend, the Texas Gal raked a good portion of the upper part of the lawn, the areas where we sit in the evenings, where the bird feeder is and where our guests join us during our annual August picnic (an event we regretfully canceled last summer but hope to revive this year). Her effort left piles of leaves around the lawn, piles that need to be cleared so as not to kill the awakening grass beneath them. (We let such a pile go too long last spring, and the resulting bare spot was a reminder all summer long that grass waits for no one.)

As she raked last weekend, I wandered down with a glass of juice. She drank it thirstily, and I asked, “Why not just call the landlord and tell him we need the leaves cleared.”

“We could,” she said, “but I like raking.”

We’ve had the conversation before, likely every spring we’ve lived here under the oaks. I guess I start the conversation each spring because I think she might have come to her senses. Of all the chores I did while growing up over on Kilian Boulevard, the one I likely detested the most was raking and bagging leaves in the spring. Those spring Saturdays when the four of us Ericksons raked and bagged were among the least pleasant Saturdays I can remember, and that’s coming from a man who tries, and generally succeeds, at finding the good parts in most things.

The Texas Gal knows I hate raking. She doesn’t ask me to do it. But she does ask me to help her bag the leaves. And I do. And I will do so this afternoon, when both of us return from errands. She’s already left on hers, which include a couple of hours clearing the community gardens at church. I need to leave on mine soon. And that means finding some music.

I was going to wander randomly through six tracks and choose one for this morning, but the first track up made me change my mind. It comes from Darden Smith’s 1990 album Trouble No More. Having listened closely to Smith’s work from the late 1990s on (and having backtracked to the beginning of his career in the mid-1980s), I think I can safely say that it was with Trouble No More that Smith left straight country music and moved down the musical road to that intersection of country, folk and pop I mention frequently.

Because it’s never really been featured here – it was part of a download six years ago – and because it speaks to me, “Listen To My Own Voice” is today’s Saturday Single.


One Response to “Saturday Single No. 390”

  1. Vintage Spins Says:

    Hi whiteray (G),

    I know you had problems with your older dl blog, but I was wondering if the archives are still available anywhere, just for reading?

    Also, I’m now ‘The Vintage Café’ if you feel like visiting sometime and wouldn’t mind changing your side-bar link.



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