Sorrow and Birdsong is a weirdly upbeat but wistful song about living with the loss of someone you love. Originally, I was thinking of a sad song about how I would deal with the inevitable loss of my mother, but as I wrote the song it became about something else, or maybe it is about the same thing–the muse only knows. Musically, I was inspired by the sound of a group called the Weepies. Not sure how much that comes through. Every song is an experiment. I hope you like it.
Anne Page McClard · Sorrow And Birdsong
Lyrics
I am a dreamer, lost in sleep’s bliss
If only you were real and that feeling were a kiss
But when I awaken you are still gone
I meet the day with sorrow and birdsong
I meet the day with sorrow and birdsong
You were a realist, knew who you were
If only you had lived in a dream you would still be here
You left me alone but did nothing wrong
I meet the day with sorrow and birdsong
I meet the day with sorrow and birdsong
I wonder if you were here
Whether you would still be dear?
You once whispered in my ear that you loved me in a way. Not sure what you would say, if you were here today
You might say life is short, love is just a game we play…
I am the darkness, falling toward night
Forever you are real and filling me with light
How dark is the night, how bright the sun
I meet the day with sorrow and birdsong
I meet the day with sorrow and birdsong
I meet the day with sorrow and birdsong
Jimmy Buffett never asked me to marry him. I never met him, but he and his music evoke a South Florida beachy vibe, which is exactly what I thought of when I heard the random three words given to me as a prompt for this song–“crocodile,” “any time” (given as one word), and “shallow.” These words landed my imagination in Key West, a place I have never been, but now would love to go. I would relish a visit to the La Te Da! Who knows what might happen?
Anne Page McClard · Looking For Jimmy B
Lyrics
I’ve been Askin’ friends I know
Lookin’ high and lookin’ low
For a man by the name of Jimmy B
We were friends, you see
Forty years ago, on a white sand beach,
He sang a little song, asked to marry me.
He sang…
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La, la-la, la-la-la , La, la-la, la-la-la
Won’t you marry me?
I was thinkin’ t’was a joke
Comin’, from a shallow bloke
Wasted away in Margaritaville
With nothin’ but time to kill
Lost his mason jar, no shaker nor salt
Bet you money now, he’s lookin for it still
So I sang…
See you later alligator
After a while crocodile
Any place, any time,
Maybe I’ll see you down at the La Te Da
Long ago when I was young
Seemed like life was full of fun
For a man by the name of Jimmy B
He loved life, you see.
After all these years, I missed the Florida sun
I missed that silly man that asked to marry me
He’d sung…
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La, la-la, la-la-la , La, la-la, la-la-la
Won’t you marry me?
I was Wandrin’ on the strand
Fallin’ down into the sand
Checkin’ out old dives, went to the La Te Da
La Te Dah, da-da
Forty years gone by, hope it’s not too late
It’s been a long wait, at the La Te Da
And, he sang…
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La, la-la, la-la-la , La, la-la, la-la-la
Won’t you marry me?
And I sang…
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La te-da, la-la-la, la te-da, la-la-la
La, la-la, la-la-la , La, la-la, la-la-la
I will marry you …Down at the La Te Da
This song emerged from a convergence of two events: Valentine’s Day was coming and we were assigned the task of writing a love-related song for our songwriting workshop, and my 94 year-old mother recounted a dream in which she was looking for her lost love. In her dream, after looking everywhere, someone says they have her love’s phone number. She stares at the number, and realizes that it spells “train wreck.” I hope you like it.
Anne Page McClard · Warning Signs
Lyrics
The day we met, you wrote your number
In the palm of my hand with a Sharpie
You drew a heart with an arrow through
You said it was a permanent tattoo
That black bleeding heart and number
Are etched into the derma of my mind
The warning signs were written clear
Should have felt a little fear
Should have seen what was coming down the line
Ohhhhh…. I’ve got you under my skin,
I’ve got you under my skin,
but you won’t let me in
No you won’t let me in
The other day, I gave you my heart
I painted it by hand in water color
Red, pink, & sky a cerulean hue
It said “Don’t be blue, cause I love you.”
I dreamed I called you on the telephone
I saw your number on the palm of my hand
Eight-seven-two, four-six-nine, seven-three-two-five
It spelled “train wreck,” it was a train wreck
This song was inspired by a YouTube video that I saw last year in which a raven seems to be making overatures to a snowy owl. They are thought to be enemies, although in Inuit mythology they were friends in the past. They definitely are something.
Anne Page McClard · Winter’s Love Calls
Lyrics
On cold winter nights
Snow gently falls
Lonesome breezes blow
And winter’s love calls
And winter’s love calls
The Owl and the Raven sit high in a tree
Raven says to owl, won’t you marry me?
Owl tells Raven, its never to be
For I love another, let’s wait and see
On cold winter nights
Snow gently falls
Lonesome breezes blow
And winter’s love calls
And winter’s love calls
Owl turns her head, pretends he’s not there
Raven whispers in her ear “You’re the fairest of fair!”
Owl spreads her wings, Posed to fly away
Raven coos and sings, “Won’t you please stay?”
On cold winter nights
Snow gently falls
Lonesome breezes blow
And winter’s love calls
And winter’s love calls
Owl says to Raven, playing it cool,
“We can be friends, tho’ I think you’re a fool”
Owl never married, or \ so they say,
but Raven and Owl were joined on that day
Ten years ago, a small, mostly-black kitten, came into our family. He picked Søren to go home with, out of all possible humans. Søren named him “The Schwa,”an unusual name for an unusual cat; it fit him perfectly.
What is a Schwa? It is the most common sound in the English language–duh…a…the…mother…yup. In the dictionary it is a phonetic symbol represented as inverted e:
/ə/
The Schwa is a hidden sound; it blends into the unstressed syllables of words and unstressed words of sentences. The Schwa has superpowers; it is the unheard and unseen glue of every dialect in the English language. The Schwa sits in plain sight, but nobody sees it. Søren didn’t know all of this, but he had read a book that year called The Schwa Was Here, by Neal Shusterman, and he recognized a schwa, The Schwa, when he saw him, and that is how this particular Schwa came to have his name.
They say his clothes blend into the background, no matter where he stands. They say a lot of things about the Schwa, but one thing’s for sure: no one ever noticed him. Except me. My name is Antsy Bonano-and I was the one who realized the Schwa was “functionally invisible” and used him to make some big bucks. But I was also the one who caused him more grief than a friend should. So if you all just shut up and listen, I’ll tell you everything there is to know about the Schwa, from how he got his name, to what really happened with his mom. I’ll spill everything. Unless, of course, “the Schwa Effect” wipes him out of my brain before I’m done . . .
The Schwa’s invisibility cloak was always a great mystery to us. Sometimes you could see him and sometimes you could not. He appeared to have full control over his visibility, even up to his last hours in the human world when I went searching frantically throughout the house for him, only to find his failing body curled in a corner beneath a potted plant table in plain sight, yet invisible. When we weren’t accidentally sitting on him because we couldn’t see him, we were looking for him.
You might think an invisible cat would be shy. Quite to the contrary. The Schwa was convivial with anybody who could, who would, see him. He was a creature of habit with an elaborate hierarchy of his humans. Søren was his chosen one. Megan was the one he related to the most; she had a comfy bed and nice Pendleton blankets to curl up with. She also had a very cool car that was fun to take for a spin. Ken was his coffee human–the guy who combed him every morning while brewing coffee. Anne was the mistress of his shadow–he often followed her around, unbeknownst to her. Zoë was his unconditional love; she faithfully scooped his litter every day. Harriet and Jig were is furry friends–they made sure that his litter box was clean too, although he didn’t quite understand why they were so concerned.
He was unstressed, a cool cat, and his lack of stress brought calm to our house. Even though he spent a lot of time in an invisible state he was always present, and now he is not.
The Schwa Was Here.
On November 4, 2021 the Schwa passed into a permanent state of invisibility. Wherever you are now, Schwa, I hope you know how much we all loved you. You gave us so much more that we gave you. We will forever carry your memory as a blessing.
I used to laugh when I heard the expression, “easy as pie.” There was nothing easy about pie. Making a crust was difficult–it always came out too tough, soggy, or just wasn’t good. Rolling it out was always difficult–it either stuck to the board or the rolling pin, or it fell apart. Then there was the filling challenge, especially fruit fillings, which tended to be too runny, or too thick. I like a pie filling that is just right, and in a separate post will offer some guidance on fruit pie filling.
One day, many years ago, I was visiting my husband’s family in the mid-west. His grandmother, Cleone Wadman, was 90 years old then Ken always bragged about her pies, and her pie crust, so when I was talking to her, I told her that I heard about her fantastic pies. She perked right up and volunteered to teach me to make a pie crust.
We were at an ordinary kitchen table. “I haven’t done this in years” she said, “I’ve probably forgotten how to do it.” She dumped a pile of flour on the table–she didn’t measure it. She said “that looks like about right amount.” She added a generous pinch of salt with her fingers, a tad of sugar, and mixed it together with her hands. Next, she took a stick of butter and some crisco, broke it up with her fingers, and mixed it in with her hand into a lumpy mess, and then sprinkled a little water over it until it formed a ragged dough. She explained that the best crust is made with pure lard. “Here,” she said, “feel this.” She encouraged me to stick my hands in. “This is too dry.” She added a little more water. “This is right. Feel it.” I felt it. She didn’t bother refrigerating the dough, or adding ice water. Her process was straight forward and unencumbered by pretention. She mixed some cut apples, some cinnamon and sugar. Rolled the crust out effortlessly and threw it all together. We had a delicious homemade pie that night after dinner, and the crust was perfect!
It took me many years of trial and error to get to the point of feeling like making a pie is easy. The lesson I took away from Cleone that was the key to crust-making is learning to recognize the look and feel of the dough. I still measure out my flour and fat, but I know how to make dough by look and feel. Another thing I learned from Cleone is not to overwork the dough. As for fillings for fruit pies, it was hit or miss until I discovered quick tapioca as a thickener. Now I have the filling down too. Below, I will share my process for making a basic crust in hopes that frustrated piemaker friends will advance their own pie-making skills, and get to the point where they think that making pie is actually as easy as pie.
My Standard Pie Crust
Makes 1 double-crust or latticed top pie.
Ingredients
2.5 c All-purpose flour
1t salt
0-2T sugar (depending on pie)
8T chilled unsalted butter
6T chilled crisco (I keep it in the freezer)
7T-8T ice water
Note on fat: you can use all butter, all lard, all Crisco (Ick), basically solid fats work. I havent tried cold coconut oil, but it would be worth an experiment if you were making a coconut pie or something tropical.
Instructions
I used to always use the food processor to make my dough. Then one day out of the blue, I decided to forego the chore of getting it out and to do all of my mixing with my hands, as Cleone had done. I haven’t looked back.
Put flour, salt, and sugar in mixing bowl and stir it together to evenly distribute ingredients. Feel free to use a spoon or a whisk.
Next cut butter and fat into chunks. I prefer doing this with a knife, as the warmth of your hands tends to melt the fat and you want to have pieces of fat visible in your final dough, Mix into flour mixture loosely. Working quickly, pinch and mix chunks into the flour, but just to the point where none of the fat is sticking to your fingers, and it looks like a mix of meal and lumps.
Drizzle ice water over the top. I usually start with 7 tablespoons, mix together rapidly with the other ingredients. When water is incorporated pinch a small amount together to see if it stays together. If it doesn’t, add a little more water until it does.
When it looks and feels good to you, dump dough onto a surface. I use a piece of parchment paper.
Press dough together until it forms a solid mass. I do this by folding parchment paper around it to keep my hands relatively dough-free.
Divide dough into to equal parts. I eyeball it.
Form each part into round disks that are about a half inch thick. You should be able to see pieces of butter in the dough at this point.
Turn on oven to pre-heat to 400º Farenheit.
Wrap in the parchment paper and put in the fridge or freeze to chill while you work on your filling. You can leave it in the fridge for several days, or you can even freeze it for use at a later date (but you will have to thaw it well before you use it).
When you are ready, to roll out your dough, sprinkle a surface with flour. I have a silcone pastry mat, but have rolled it on the counter, a wooden board, and even on parchment a time or two.
Take a round of dough out of the fridge and start rolling gently from the center of the disk outward in all direction. If you have a rolling pin with handles, I have found that it works better not to use them. Put pressure directly on the roller. After I have rolled a bit, I pick the round up, refresh flour underneath, and flip the disk over. Rotate dough, and keep it free from sticking. If you didn’t put enough water in, you will get a lot of cracks, but don’t despair. Your crust will be hard to handle, but it will work out in the end. A crust that is too dry is better than one that is too wet in the end. A lesson for the next time. I roll mine out so that it is about 14″ in diameter for a deep dish pie. Gently, lift one edge of crust over the rolling pin, and use the rolling pin to release and carry the crust to your pie plate. Lay it in loosely so that you can adjust the position. Then press crust into bottom. If you have broken bits or thin coverage you can patch with excess dough.
Fill pie. Brush crust with an egg-white and water mixture and sprinkle with sugar. I used decorative clear crystallized sugar, but you can use regular granulated if you don’t have it, or omit it altogether, depending on what kind of pie you are making.
Put pie in oven and decrease temperature immediately to 375º F, bake for 50 minutes or so. If it is a fruit pie, it should be bubbling up through the vents or latticed top. If it isn’t, leave it in for a few minutes. If your oven runs hot and you find the edges are getting too dark, protect edges with foil. We sure to put a cookie sheet under your pie in case it overflows.
Just a few different pies that I have made with this crust recipe. The principles you learn in making this basic crust will tranfer to other crust recipes too! Good Luck and happy baking.
I wrote “Shop Girl” as part of song-writing workshop that I did with Matt Meighan. We were supposed to write about our first job. When I was 13, I worked in a small antique store, tucked away in a courtyard shopping area, off the beaten path from most of the tourist traffic in Georgetown, Colorado. It was a dark and dusty little store that smelled like old things. My job was mostly pretty boring, consisting of dusting furniture, and organizing shelves. As the store didn’t get a lot of foot traffic, my boss often left me in charge from opening to closing. She would drop in a couple of times during the day to check in on things. I entertained myself by looking through the card files to read about the provenance of the goods. When customers would come in, I would tell them all that I knew about the piece they were interested in, and sometimes I would embellish on the story a bit. Not sure that it ever helped to make a sale, but I found it amusing.
This song is a bit longer than most of my songs because it has a spoken word intro. I had been listening to some singer songwriters out of Texas who used this technique, and decided to give it a whirl. I hope you like it.
Anne Page McClard · Georgetown (Shop Girl)
Shop Girl Lyrics
When I was a young girl
I lived in a little town in Colorado
Nestled in a steep valley
Near the continental divide
Called Georgetown
500 living souls
Many more dead ones
Altitude,8,500 feet
Georgetown Was full of little Gingerbread houses
With white picket fences
Each with its own historic plaque—
And on each plaque was the name of a dead person
Few of the living
Could claim to be from there,
Kneissels, Anderssens, Buckleys
The rest of us were escapees from real life,
Lost souls (mostly with Ph.Ds), There were also,Trust Funders, Germans,
Swedes, Ski bums and shopkeepers…
Lots of shopkeepers.
In its day Georgetown was known as
the Silver Queen of the Rockies
But in my time
The only thing mined there
Were the pockets of tourists…
City Slickers
up from Denver,
or worse, in my mind,
Texans, rich Texans
And I? I was a 13 year-old Shop Girl.
She gets to work at half-past nine
Tidy’s the goods in the case
Wipes the glass to make it shine
Checks her reflection, hair and face
Opens the door at ten-o’clock sharp
Counts the money in the drawer
Sees her mark a-coming from afar
Now he’s walking through the door
Where columbines grow
And the air smells of pine
Shop girl is workin’ overtime
Sellin’ fools gold to whoever is buyin’
Shop girl is getting good at selling’ and lying
The man walks in at half-past ten
Wearing a Stetson,n’ boots to match
She dons a smile and welcomes him in
Texan she’d guess, a mighty fine catch
Antique collector up from Fort Worth
Shows him a chest, tells a tall tale
Telling stories is part of her work
Spinning yarns just to make a sale
[CHORUS]
Late in the day, the sun’s going down
Shop girl sorts and rolls the change
Boss comes in with her usual frown
She collects her money to take to the bank
She tells the girl “you did good honey”
Gives her a pat, heads out the door
Time to go home, made a little money
Shop Girl had hoped for something more
My niece’s song “The Dark,” got me thinking about the fact that the sun is always shining at night on the other side of the earth. For some, this might seem like a rather sad thought, but for me, it is full of hope and the prospect of a better tomorrow when we can move beyond sorrows and losses in the past. I hope you like it.
Anne Page McClard · Eclipse by Anne McClard
Lyrics
Sounds of magic float in air
Fairy dust glints in your hair
Dancing lights shoot everywhere
Not sure you see me
Up and down and lows to highs
Golden light shines in your eyes
Spinning around your sighs and lies
Seems you don’t need me
The sun shines bright
In the dark of night
On the other side of the earth
The party’s coming to an end
Coming to an end
Disco ball comes crashing down
Hellish nights out on the town
Feeling like I’m gonna drown
Know you don’t love me
The sun shines bright
In the dark of night
On the other side of the earth
Taste of nectar kisses my lips
Cotton clouds and sailing ships
Gliding past our eclipse
Now I don’t miss you
The sun shines bright
In the dark of night
On the other side of the earth
The sun shines bright
In the dark of night
On the other side of the earth
If any of you listen to this be assured that it is not a portent of my marriage coming to an end. It resulted more from a reflection on past heartbreaks and all of the silly things that are considered common wisdom when it comes to life and love. I guess part of the message in this song is that true love endures, even when a relationship is done with. My mother thinks this is a sad song, but I see it is hopeful.
Anne Page McClard · Kiss My Lips–Anne McClard
Lyrics
They say all good things come to an end
I hope that isn’t true
Want this love of ours to last forever ‘cuz
I’llnever stop loving you
If we ever have to part
kiss my lips
kiss my lips
Please, don’tbreak my heart
They say if you love someone set ‘em free
I don’t hold with that view
Want this love of ours to last forever ‘cuz
I’llnever stop loving you
If we ever have to part
kiss my lips
kiss my lips
Please, don’tbreak my heart
People say a lot of crazy stuff
I don’tpay much mind
The other day you said you loved another
I figured it was just a bluff
They say true love will last forever
I hope that it’s true
Want this love of ours to last forever ‘cuz
I’llnever stop loving you
If we ever have to part
kiss my lips
kiss my lips
Please, don’tbreak my heart
kiss my lips
kiss my lips
Please, don’tbreak my heart
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