Thank you for your beautiful reflections. You have a way of putting into words things that I feel but don't know how to say. I too am grateful for learning to be grateful. At 82, I'm grateful to receive the gift of a healthy and meaningful life! I especially look forward to early spring when the Purple Martin's and Eastern Bluebirds return to the houses I've erected for them, and begin another cycle of creating new life. Right now, the Martin's are all still busy with nest building and egg laying, but the Bluebirds are already feeding four chicks from their first brood. Brings me joy to witness!
Though I, too, believe in letters written on real paper with real ink, it also seems good and right to offer my heartfelt thanks for the hours you shared with us at Siena Retreat Center this past weekend. As a woman aging just ahead of you, I am thankful almost daily for your words and music that fill my home.
Your gentle, humble presence is a gift. I expected it having listened to your music for awhile now, reading your Substack, and watching your online concerts, but it was a deep sigh of gratitude to experience it. I think future me will equate the sounds and smells of springtime with you at Siena.
I’m certain you must return home exhausted, but know you have sown good seeds that will multiply and grow. 💝
In Spring, I love the green shoots beginning to break the cold earth, the hint of warmth in the breeze, the longer days, starting to take more walks outside, especially along the lake, tree branches showing the glimmer of green, and the first crocuses.
I saw your performance yesterday at Sienna center. It was inspiring and I'm glad the weather was rainy and cold because otherwise, I would have wanted to spend the afternoon in the warm Spring sun. We live on 5 acres, so there's always something to do outdoors and always something new to see this time of year whether it's fawns hiding in the bushes, squirrels playing in the trees (to my dog's chagrin) or the birds returning to the feeders. Love every minute of this sanctuary. So grateful to be the guardian of my land. I too am looking behind at 64 (not too far behind) .
I, too, stand in awe of the redbud and the impossibly bright new green of Spring. The goldfinches growing more yellow by the day and the leaves starting to offer shade. I must confess to an odd sadness for the end of winter though; the end of the absolute peace the comes with snowfall and the warmth of wool mitts that somehow feels even more deeply comforting than the warmth of bright sun. Enjoy the eclipse today! Thank you for all of the inspiration and reflections you share in your music and writing. The Light you put into the world is a Great Pearl!
“I know that I am in the third act of a three part play, and I want to live into it with awareness and presence, not in a mindless rush of days. I want to be here, while I’m here.”
A worthy thought that gets lost in the shuffle! Thanks for your reflection, Carrie.
I love the dogwood trees in everyone’s yards here in East Tennessee, spring art festivals, and walking to the Pinnacle Overlook and seeing blue sky everywhere and the mountains in the distance. A beautiful time of year ❤️
I am 71 years old, but I still am able to do a 10 mile run on Sunday mornings. Being in the Bronx, when I tell people on my run, I go thru wooded areas, and what makes my run special is when I am able to see some deer, and this time of year, you are able to see fawns. How great is that!!! Today was special I also saw some wild turkeys. It is one of the advantages of running at 5AM, and love when other runners see me, and call me Grandpa
I love the daffodils nodding their heads in the breeze but, I especially, love the Magnolia tree just outside my bedroom window. Every year it blooms too early and every year it turns brown with March frost. Every year but this one. This year when I needed it to bloom and let its blossoms live, it bloomed abundantly. Every day blooms came and every night the frost came. I sat by the bedroom window talking to her, asking her blossoms not to freeze. Every morning some of them were brown on the edges. The amazing thing is that even as some of the blooms froze, this sweet Magnolia created more blossoms than she has in my three years asking her blossoms not to freeze. This sweet Magnolia's blossoms were finished and she scattered her blossoms under her branches creating a carpet of pink and white.
My first year back in Middle Tennessee in several years-the Dogwoods are amazing. And everywhere. And the songbirds seem so choired here-more so than I paid attention to when living in Pendleton, IN. We have bird feeders everywhere and so the Mocking Jays, Cardinals, Woodpeckers, Morning Doves, Robins,all singing the morning open and fresh. Spring takes on a more precious significance these days as I enter the late fall of my life. Your share, Carrie, hits home exactly where I find myself these days. What if...this is my last Spring-my last birthday (03.31.1953)..my last Easter Season...What if...the songs are soon to be no more. (I cannot imagine a world or an afterlife where there are no birds singing). I say this (as I believe you did) not to be morose of in any sense of dread but to stay awake-appreciate-meditate-and do not hesitate:)
I love the way the birds start singing earlier and earlier in the morning and the sun peeks around the just greening branches of the trees. And each day is precious to me - I'm 78 and soon will be 79 and still find things to awe and amaze me, including my own body, getting stronger each day with the help of a young trainer. Don't stop doing the things you love and find more and more things to love and then do!
We live in southern Colorado in a rural town, across from a small park. Our lot is peopled by half a dozen old trees, lilac bushes, roses, a volunteer apple tree (!), my raised bed garden, peonies, native plants, and our newly planted chokecherry. So there are wild violets, grape hyacinths, and daffodils right now, along with a budding clematis and soon, tulips.
Ah the curious promise of limited time! As someone born with Cerebral Palsy, limited time was an expectation, without the hope of a promise! She'll live a few months they said! That was 37 years ago this June! I came to your May concert last year in Sundusky and shared with you then that I was on the the clean edge of change as I transitioned into being the Clinical Site Manager at a community mental health agency for children and adolescents and that "You Can Do This Hard Thing" was a great source of encouragement.
I have now been managing nearly a year, the office grown from 3 staff to 14, many of whom practice under my license and supervison. My responsibilities have grown exponentially and so has my gratitude. To have been given this opportunity and responsibility when societal expectations remain relatively low for people like me, this is a beautiful gift!
Then to have people willing to step in and take over the beautiful chaos of the office while I spend eclipse Monday and Tuesday on Lake Erie with my family is another gift.
I'll see you in Sundusky in May, a birthday trip from my parents (a little early). I can't think of a better way to give thanks for my 37 years than an evening of live Carrie music 💕 YOU are gift to my soul!
I think you are wrong and I think you will agree. It’s not a three act play, there are four acts. We who believe have been promised that fourth act, but it’s too wonderful for us to imagine at this point. So don’t be depressed, look forward to act four. You’ll be reunited with loved ones, you’ll be far happier than you can imagine, and the good news - it will never end.
I am not female, and so, I do not feel as judged by my age. Perhaps I just don't let it bother me. The year I turned forty, I bicycled from Washington to Maine. The year I turned 43, I did it again. This time my wife, who is five years my senior, went along for the ride. Not tandem. Some days, up to a mile between us was to our advantage.
I happen to be the same age as Carrie Newcomer and I like to check on when certain of her songs were published. I think about where I was at in my journey that year.
We might not be cycle tourists or touring musicians, but we still produce a lot of our summer food and put a lot of fruit by, for the dark cold winter months.
I do what I can and I don't what I can't. This keep my disappointment level low.
So many chapters my life has written for me to read and re-read.
It is a change for me to live in happy joyous freedom.
Thank you for your beautiful reflections. You have a way of putting into words things that I feel but don't know how to say. I too am grateful for learning to be grateful. At 82, I'm grateful to receive the gift of a healthy and meaningful life! I especially look forward to early spring when the Purple Martin's and Eastern Bluebirds return to the houses I've erected for them, and begin another cycle of creating new life. Right now, the Martin's are all still busy with nest building and egg laying, but the Bluebirds are already feeding four chicks from their first brood. Brings me joy to witness!
Though I, too, believe in letters written on real paper with real ink, it also seems good and right to offer my heartfelt thanks for the hours you shared with us at Siena Retreat Center this past weekend. As a woman aging just ahead of you, I am thankful almost daily for your words and music that fill my home.
Your gentle, humble presence is a gift. I expected it having listened to your music for awhile now, reading your Substack, and watching your online concerts, but it was a deep sigh of gratitude to experience it. I think future me will equate the sounds and smells of springtime with you at Siena.
I’m certain you must return home exhausted, but know you have sown good seeds that will multiply and grow. 💝
In Spring, I love the green shoots beginning to break the cold earth, the hint of warmth in the breeze, the longer days, starting to take more walks outside, especially along the lake, tree branches showing the glimmer of green, and the first crocuses.
I saw your performance yesterday at Sienna center. It was inspiring and I'm glad the weather was rainy and cold because otherwise, I would have wanted to spend the afternoon in the warm Spring sun. We live on 5 acres, so there's always something to do outdoors and always something new to see this time of year whether it's fawns hiding in the bushes, squirrels playing in the trees (to my dog's chagrin) or the birds returning to the feeders. Love every minute of this sanctuary. So grateful to be the guardian of my land. I too am looking behind at 64 (not too far behind) .
I, too, stand in awe of the redbud and the impossibly bright new green of Spring. The goldfinches growing more yellow by the day and the leaves starting to offer shade. I must confess to an odd sadness for the end of winter though; the end of the absolute peace the comes with snowfall and the warmth of wool mitts that somehow feels even more deeply comforting than the warmth of bright sun. Enjoy the eclipse today! Thank you for all of the inspiration and reflections you share in your music and writing. The Light you put into the world is a Great Pearl!
“I know that I am in the third act of a three part play, and I want to live into it with awareness and presence, not in a mindless rush of days. I want to be here, while I’m here.”
A worthy thought that gets lost in the shuffle! Thanks for your reflection, Carrie.
I love the dogwood trees in everyone’s yards here in East Tennessee, spring art festivals, and walking to the Pinnacle Overlook and seeing blue sky everywhere and the mountains in the distance. A beautiful time of year ❤️
I am 71 years old, but I still am able to do a 10 mile run on Sunday mornings. Being in the Bronx, when I tell people on my run, I go thru wooded areas, and what makes my run special is when I am able to see some deer, and this time of year, you are able to see fawns. How great is that!!! Today was special I also saw some wild turkeys. It is one of the advantages of running at 5AM, and love when other runners see me, and call me Grandpa
I love the daffodils nodding their heads in the breeze but, I especially, love the Magnolia tree just outside my bedroom window. Every year it blooms too early and every year it turns brown with March frost. Every year but this one. This year when I needed it to bloom and let its blossoms live, it bloomed abundantly. Every day blooms came and every night the frost came. I sat by the bedroom window talking to her, asking her blossoms not to freeze. Every morning some of them were brown on the edges. The amazing thing is that even as some of the blooms froze, this sweet Magnolia created more blossoms than she has in my three years asking her blossoms not to freeze. This sweet Magnolia's blossoms were finished and she scattered her blossoms under her branches creating a carpet of pink and white.
She will always be my favorite spring beginning.
My first year back in Middle Tennessee in several years-the Dogwoods are amazing. And everywhere. And the songbirds seem so choired here-more so than I paid attention to when living in Pendleton, IN. We have bird feeders everywhere and so the Mocking Jays, Cardinals, Woodpeckers, Morning Doves, Robins,all singing the morning open and fresh. Spring takes on a more precious significance these days as I enter the late fall of my life. Your share, Carrie, hits home exactly where I find myself these days. What if...this is my last Spring-my last birthday (03.31.1953)..my last Easter Season...What if...the songs are soon to be no more. (I cannot imagine a world or an afterlife where there are no birds singing). I say this (as I believe you did) not to be morose of in any sense of dread but to stay awake-appreciate-meditate-and do not hesitate:)
I love the way the birds start singing earlier and earlier in the morning and the sun peeks around the just greening branches of the trees. And each day is precious to me - I'm 78 and soon will be 79 and still find things to awe and amaze me, including my own body, getting stronger each day with the help of a young trainer. Don't stop doing the things you love and find more and more things to love and then do!
We live in southern Colorado in a rural town, across from a small park. Our lot is peopled by half a dozen old trees, lilac bushes, roses, a volunteer apple tree (!), my raised bed garden, peonies, native plants, and our newly planted chokecherry. So there are wild violets, grape hyacinths, and daffodils right now, along with a budding clematis and soon, tulips.
Ah the curious promise of limited time! As someone born with Cerebral Palsy, limited time was an expectation, without the hope of a promise! She'll live a few months they said! That was 37 years ago this June! I came to your May concert last year in Sundusky and shared with you then that I was on the the clean edge of change as I transitioned into being the Clinical Site Manager at a community mental health agency for children and adolescents and that "You Can Do This Hard Thing" was a great source of encouragement.
I have now been managing nearly a year, the office grown from 3 staff to 14, many of whom practice under my license and supervison. My responsibilities have grown exponentially and so has my gratitude. To have been given this opportunity and responsibility when societal expectations remain relatively low for people like me, this is a beautiful gift!
Then to have people willing to step in and take over the beautiful chaos of the office while I spend eclipse Monday and Tuesday on Lake Erie with my family is another gift.
I'll see you in Sundusky in May, a birthday trip from my parents (a little early). I can't think of a better way to give thanks for my 37 years than an evening of live Carrie music 💕 YOU are gift to my soul!
Emily, thank you for this wonderfully uplifting post, and for sharing about your strength in your journey.
This is a beautiful piece of writing, Carrie. Even more, it reflects a beautiful way of living. Thank you for all of it!
I think you are wrong and I think you will agree. It’s not a three act play, there are four acts. We who believe have been promised that fourth act, but it’s too wonderful for us to imagine at this point. So don’t be depressed, look forward to act four. You’ll be reunited with loved ones, you’ll be far happier than you can imagine, and the good news - it will never end.
I am not female, and so, I do not feel as judged by my age. Perhaps I just don't let it bother me. The year I turned forty, I bicycled from Washington to Maine. The year I turned 43, I did it again. This time my wife, who is five years my senior, went along for the ride. Not tandem. Some days, up to a mile between us was to our advantage.
I happen to be the same age as Carrie Newcomer and I like to check on when certain of her songs were published. I think about where I was at in my journey that year.
We might not be cycle tourists or touring musicians, but we still produce a lot of our summer food and put a lot of fruit by, for the dark cold winter months.
I do what I can and I don't what I can't. This keep my disappointment level low.
So many chapters my life has written for me to read and re-read.
It is a change for me to live in happy joyous freedom.
https://jeffastle.substack.com/publish/home