red rocking chair

Ain't got no use for your red rocking chair. Ain't got no sugarbaby now...

Sunday was another bbq in Vineeta's fairytale garden and turtlepond backyard. These musicians were playing some beautiful arrangements of old traditional appalachian songs. The woman sitting next to me had never heard this kind of music and was gleaning a lot about the American psyche, she put it, as she sat enraptured by these murder ballads and tales of woe. She also insists that the guitarist in particular is much sexier in person than here, and I have to agree. The fellow at the bottom is playing an instument of his own creation, made from the body of a ukelele and strung like a bazouki with classical guitar strings. Some other time I'll have to do studies of the yard itself.