Trees

The thing about trees–they’re beautiful with leaves or without.

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E’lissa Jones Band

I was going to write about seeing E‘lissa Jones any way but after the review Ed did of the Dion concert I didn’t want you all to think we’re music snobs.  I enjoyed aspects of the Dion concert but wasn’t surprised by the oldies content.  Ed and I had had multiple conversations about the possible set list and, me being the glass is half empty person I am, warned him that I suspected that most of the music would not be what he wanted to hear. Having said that I want to spend a few moments raving about E’lissa Jones.

On a glorious Saturday evening Ed and I packed up a delicious dinner and a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio and headed to the Warwick Railroad Green, one of my favorite places, to watch one of my favorite bands-the E’lissa Jones band.  Never heard of them? You should.  They’re a great Hudson Valley local band, but given the trash (yes I said it TRASH) that passes for music when real talent is in front of you, your heart starts beating, your toes start tapping and joy just fills the air.

E’lissa Jones plays guitar, mandolin, keyboard, a fiddle that rocks. She’s got a smile that lights up when she sings and has the voice of an angel.

Playing songs they’ve written (old and new) or borrowed, they played, danced, and sang for two glorious hours.   E’lissa is able to rock that fiddle and dance in the audience without missing a beat.  The band isn’t just a band-it’s a family.  I watched as the a member’s wife rocked E’lissa’s swaddled son as he slept in her arms.

After playing for a bit E’lissa, a music teacher, called up one of her students – what a treat.  We should all have music teachers like that.

I’m sure that there will be other concerts, but this night was special – a wonderful concert sitting next to a wonderful man. What more can you ask for!

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Spring

The invigorating Warwickan sun was beating down on the back deck. Last Sunday was a gorgeous day. The designer of our Warwick home, purportedly Horace Walling, situated the house so that the late morning/early afternoon sun directly hits the back. It was so warm, I was able to luncheon on the deck, soaking in the rejuvenating rays, eyes closed, face poised towards the sun, feeling more energetic as the time passed. (My pate might have evening gotten a little sunburned from my day outdoors, as the top felt a tad tender.)

It’s been a rough winter for our garden. The snow reduced our once chest high Japanese maple to a few spindly twigs but there’s new growth coming. In an effort to dig a drainage ditch, road workers threw gravel on my little sedum garden (the one I’ve been cultivating for the past two years) covering the plants with pebbles. But they are hardy, these sedum, and they’re coming back in full force. The bleeding hearts are sprouting.  Plants that I thought were goners are showing life.

I’m reading a children’s book (yes, I must mention a book) called Plants and Their Children, written in 1896 by Mrs. William Starr Dana. In it she talks, yes actually talks, to children telling them about plant life, how seeds are formed, what buds are, etc. Although the 1896 language is a bit stilted especially compared to today’s lackadaisical grammar and spelling, it is a reaffirmation of the wonders of spring and nature. It is the perfect book to read as we watch the wonders of our garden reveal themselves. So, here’s to gardens and gardeners everywhere, as we tend our little plots of wonder. Enjoy, everyone.

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Historical Tombstones

I spoke earlier about the impending sale of our historical Warwick church and schoolhouse, the latter of which dates back to 1873. And I mentioned the cemetery across the street. Susan and I have discussed the virtues of cremation vs. cemeteries, she in favor of the former and I the later.

Last summer we strolled through the local cemetery, amazed at the age of some of the tombstones. I vowed to come back with my camera and take pictures. It took a year, but I finally did it and was shocked at how ill kempt the place is. If this is the fate of a cemetery I may be burried in, I may reconsider my stance. The tombstone on the right dates from 1878. The one on the left is broken but looks like William was a soldier in an unreadable division; others are covered in weeds.

As I was walking among the tombstones and weeds, my foot fell into a hole. I hope it was merely the hole made by the marker and not a grave. I shudder to think about that.

Warwick is an historic town and the cemetery contains tombstones from soldiers who died during the Civil War, children who died too early, women who supported their men at war. There’s a current tombstone commemorating soldiers who took part in the Revolutionary War. It is a shame to envision a time when these monuments to our past are destroyed either intentionally or through neglect.

I know I’m pontificating here, but for some reason the neglect of the cemetery really got to me. I’m almost tempted to systematically take pictures of every tombstone vs. my random wanderings. This way at least there will be a record.

I’ll post more photos on Facebook shortly, since I took about 30 of them, each more interesting than the previous one.

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History for Sale

Warwick is an old town. The cemetary across the street from the Presbyterian Church in Amity (which I’ll talk about in another post) has original headstones dating back before the Civil War and newer ones commemorating deceaseds from the 1700s. The current Church itself dates back to 1868 per the sign shown here and the associated one room school house began in 1873.  History. Once lost, never retrieved.

So, imagine my shock when I saw that the Church and  schoolhouse are up for sale through a commercial real estate agent. The Church is smack dab in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Short of an Arlo Guthrie-esque redo of his Alice’s Restaurant friends buying a church to live in, this can’t be good.

It is disheartening to see another piece of history go by the wayside. It’s what makes Warwick and Amity quaint. Every time I pass by now, I’ll wonder what monstrosity will replace the beautiful spire and stained glass. I hope someone comes to his/her senses and preserves our heritage.

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