It started with the South Pearl Street Farmers Market in Denver. I have played this place for several years, now, and I always look forward to doing so. The weather was lovely: sunny, neither overly hot nor terribly cold. A couple of old friends that I had not seen in months (or even a few years, in one case) showed up to say hi. There was the usual crowd of children watching, dancing, singing along to songs like “Puff The Magic Dragon” and “Yellow Submarine”
“Remember, putting money in the musician’s guitar case will give you good luck for the rest of the day,” I announced as child after child (and several adults) dropped dollar bills into the two guitar cases (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).
There’s the hundred and more smells wafting from the food carts and the produce stands. There’s the parade of doggies of all shapes and sizes, taking time to wag a tail and perhaps sniff the butt of a fellow traveler. There’s the guy with the Desert Storm Vet patch on his vest studying my CD’s, then giving me a thumbs up as I launch into a Hank Williams tune.
Farmers Markets are typically about four hours, but I came away feeling incredibly invigorated. Which was a good thing, because then I had a House Concert at the residence of my long-time, wonderful friends, Ed and Colleen.
I played an opening set of mostly instrumental stuff as guests arrived and a bountiful table of appetizers was enjoyed by one and all. After about an hour, I took a break to enjoy a bit of dinner, then on to the second set; about an hour and twenty minutes of a featured show with a welcoming audience. One of the particular perks to playing a House Concert is the chance to interact with your audience in a very direct and somewhat intimate way. People ask you questions about this or that song, or about how the tour is going. You get to tell some stories in between the songs.
Another break for snacks and drinks, and I did a third set of mostly sing-along stuff, while some of the guests grabbed various percussion instruments that my hosts supplied It turned into a spontaneous jam of sorts. Between the second and third sets, a hat was passed and several CD’s were sold. I left Ed and Colleen’s place at about 11pm. I had played some seven hours altogether. Driving home, I finally felt tired, but it was a good fatigue, mixed with the glow of a day well spent and enjoyed to the core. These are the days that punctuate my life with moments of real bliss, and remind me just how fortunate I am. I am blessed. Yes, I believe I am very blessed.