Dusty Paths and Turning Leaves

This time next week, as Savannah so kindly reminded me while squeezing the life out of me, I will be spending my 1st night in Spain.

That seems impossible since, today, I marveled at the quality of the late afternoon sunlight in dust clouds left behind my car as I traveled the long path home. Today, I shopped in American stores, talked to my server in English, and went 70 miles per hour on I-40. I smiled at autumn's alchemy practice on the leaves next to forever green pines. In the den tonight, my family sat around me and fussed about our crappy hometown high school. I was comfortably in NC.

There's more out there, I know. I want to see and experience it, but then thoughts like "you don't speak the language" or "you're a farm girl" creep into my skull. Music, though, drowns out this static. I find myself more and more sneaking into the study to play some Beethoven piece to clear out the clutter in my head.

As I did in Peru, I'm blogging with a song in mind. It's hard not to when most of my day is filled with music. This song has been on repeat lately -- in my car, on my iHome and iPod, and even on the barn boom box while I clean stalls. I like a song that makes me not just tap my toes but stomp my feet. (Hard. Like bent over, knee-raising stomps.) I like music that causes me to sing so hard in my car, the driver in their car bubble next to me stares. Music that makes me do a spin dance with our kitten in the grass.

I totally understand why this band's bluegrass/rock combination has gotten them a lot of attention lately. They're each talented and on multiple instruments. Personally, I always enjoy a banjo, driving bass and the chill bumps caused by a group of men belting out harmonies. This song just might be my airplane take-off song come the 20th.