Aug 30, 2010

Roger Williams

Something in a guy's Celtic soul, which has been marinated in more than 200 years of Appalachian hill and holler culture,  makes him a sucker for the maudlin. Personally, I can even get into "The Green Green Grass of Home" which offends my George Shearing side.

About this time of year it is Roger Williams. Even without the molasses-jug lyrics,  "The Falling Leaves"  tops the goopiness scale, and I wish I could get his damned piano version to quit earwigging me.


I am working this gray morning in front of the big south window, noticing that the cottonwood leave are definitely yellow.

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