Continuing Adventures of the Folklore Five and J. Brown

Current location: basement of the library. Wild storm brewing outside. Just returned from somewhere near Collinsville, AL, a shape note singin'.

Yes. This weekend has been rather - intense. I knew it would be when I went to sketch my poplar bud, and in gently grasping the branch it shook tulip poplar nectar on me. Just like Mott said. Mott taught J. Brown how to snare the elusive Cahaba redhorse, and the time is right when poplar buds spill their nectar . . .

Day 1 - the Little Cahaba; or, Don't Put All the Lunches in One Canoe
Yesterday, see, 23 students, of varying levels of skill, canoed 7 miles down the Cahaba. Dr. Brown in the lead (of course). Some guy named Randy in the back. The trip was not for the faint-hearted. An experienced canoeist even took a dunking early in the journey. We waded around in muddy Chacos and munched soggy trail mix and gazed in wonder at the unbelievable beauty of the river. Do you know how peace-full it is when the river is clear and cool and grey and the freshly-green trees and vines grow down to the banks and the only sounds are water-noises and the occasional bird cries?
And do you know how tired your arms get when you sit in the front the whole dang time?

We rode with our same happy group of five, and laughed and talked in the comfortableness of knowing we enjoy each other and appreciate nerdy stuff like dogtrot houses and the redhorse snaring. Ellen and Jordan survived their unexpected dip in the water, Drew and Josh took the river by storm (or tried to - they encountered some, um, difficulties) and I enjoyed just sitting in the front being the little engine that could with an experienced canoeist steering in the back. We came back tired, hungry, covered with rock-and-thorn battle wounds, and very happy.

Day 2 - Shape Note Singing and Dinner on the Grounds, i.e. I ate like a starving lumberjack
Our happy band united this morning with slightly more sleep than when we parted, and set out for "Collinsville." That was all we knew. We argued over whether it was in Georgia, Alabama or Tennessee (Dr. Brown loves to keep us guessing). It ended up being in Alabama, up a dirt road on a mountain.
It felt like a scene from a movie: the haunting music swelling from inside the tiny concrete building, marching single-file in a line of Sunday dressed kids, and entering the embrace of the explosive singing in the one room church. Ellen and I sat with a very nice lady in the treble section, and I would've been even more lost without her leading me through the labyrinth of notes. And she sang on the Cold Mtn. album(!). And the girl who sang "Lady Margret" sat right in front of me with her precious two year old(!). And I felt like I was surrounded by celebrities.

And then. Oh, then. Dinner on the Grounds. It deserves the capitals. Icy well water lemonade, and more food than I have ever seen in my life in one place, and I committed the sin of gluttony about three times over. On my first time through I loaded up a plate that could have served for two and half meals any other time, and inhaled it like a ravenous little street orphan. And then, against all better judgment, I went back for more and made another meal off the desserts. And promptly felt very sick. Even now, five hours later, I'm not sure I ever want to eat again. Food. Why do people eat food?
On the drive back through the lovely green fields, we played the "I Have Never" game to keep from falling asleep, and boy but I'm going to miss this class when it's over.