I got up the other morning to discover that our 60 year old apricot tree had seen its last season, the weight of an early snow had overwhelmed the ailing trunk and the whole tree had tumbled unceremoniously to the ground during the night. Since pretty much anything that can break has been staging a coordinated descent into disrepair at our house, it wasn’t really a huge surprise. I grew up in a home where not everything worked, so I tend to have a lot of patience with bathtubs that take 4 days to drain, hinges that go bad, dishwashers that won’t wash, leaks in the ceiling, and well… just anything broken in general (I might note, oddly enough, that Mary does not seem to greatly appreciate my patience).

The day before was our Salt Lake CD release concert for our new album Shiver Into Spark at Holladay United Church of Christ (HUCC).  Normally, on the day of a big concert I have a bit of a routine I like to follow: a quiet morning with a cup of coffee, and a newspaper, then a bit of woodshedding on some of the tough instrumentals, followed by a brief vocal warm up. Later in the day, I’ll go through the whole program with Mary, and show up for the performance in tip top shape. What we hadn’t expected was that our cars were in collusion with everything else that has broken.  That morning we discovered our van wouldn’t start. Our other car was immobile due to an electrical problem I was exercising a little too much patience on. However, it was clear that if we wanted to show up to this performance at all, I’d need to be a bit less patient. Mary, who has even less patience than me for this sort of thing had already called a neighbor who is a mechanic and he said he could fix it sometime that weekend.  I called my brother, who told me I was welcome to Dad’s old truck but that I’d need to put the spare on it as one of the tires was flat. Sounded fine to me… besides, I had an old broken trailer full of discarded bike parts, odd bits of wire, and some bent stove piping, and a wasp nest I’d been meaning to get rid of once I ran out of patience. A truck sounded like just the thing.

A brother in law gave me a lift out to my brother’s place and we set to work on the tire. Since the truck didn’t appear to come with a jack, we borrowed a high lift jack from his neighbor, and thought things should be a cinch with my brother’s set of pneumatic power tools… However, over the next few hours my usual patience gradually gave way to a mantra of whispered and sometimes grunted words that I think decorum indicates I should not repeat here.  The lug nuts had obviously been tightened by some overzealous person armed with a bucket of superglue and the spare tire looked as if it had been entombed with an Egyptian mummy. We called a used tire shop to see if we could buy a couple of tires cheap and were told they had just what we needed and that the bay was empty. We got there 15 minutes later to discover that  “empty bay” apparently translated to “there’s only twenty people in front of you.” Following a very patient 2 hour wait, we were surprised when he only charged me $30 dollars instead of the $80 I expected. “What luck!” I thought.

 “Only one tire… not so good tire.” He said apologetically in his heavily accented English. Sure enough, it was as bald as Patrick Stewart. Still, it was inflated and meant I was on my way, with a full 30 minutes to spare! I got home, changed and dashed out to load our gear. The universe somehow picked that moment to stage a blizzard. Luckily I had run across a large tarp left over from our tent (which I had recently run out of patience with and discarded due to a large rip, catastrophically failed zipper and a long mosquito filled night) when I was cleaning out the garage a few days before. It was just big enough that all our gear could be wrapped tightly in the bed of the truck and we set off.

We made it to the sound check, out of breath but relatively on time. We had the good luck to be backing up Kristin Erickson (one of our favorite songwriters) for the first half of the show, and were playing tunes from our CD Shiver Into Spark on the second half. Having had no chance to warm up made the whole thing that much more exciting. Hugs all around helped center and calm us down and Kristin loaned me her spare guitar so I wouldn’t have to retune between songs. We had a great sound guy (Bill Green) and the church's music director had hot soup for us in the green room. The concert was warm, intimate and beautiful in a way that only happens when the weather outside is frightful.

When it was over we took our time getting back out into the cold. It had snowed another four inches and was still coming down heavy. I began to worry about getting home in a rear wheel drive pickup with no significant weight in the back and bald tires as well as regret the patience that had left my car (the best one we have for snow) out of commission. Our friend Sterling must have had similar thoughts, as unbeknownst to me he followed us out of the parking lot and down the street, a fact I only discovered when I gave up trying to drive up the .05% grade that lead home. I backed up and turned around, following the path of least resistance towards (and sometimes away from home).  The roads were bad enough that the truck wouldn’t go uphill at all, and much to my dismay, I discovered that the windshield wipers had long since lost their rubber blades, and that the fan for the heat and defrost was not working often leaving me unable to see well enough to read the street signs. Adding to my stress was a crowded cab with two muses in the small seats behind the bench, and one muse sitting up front between Mary and I who began loudly worrying about needing to use the bathroom, a worry which continued to increase for all of us as the drive (normally 15 minutes or less) stretched into an hour and a half or more. My usually inexhaustible patience wearing thin, I switched back and forth between irritably explaining that if we pulled into a gas station for a bathroom we weren’t likely to be able to pull out and demanding Mary figure out where in the hell we were since I couldn’t spare attention for anything but the road in front of me. When we finally arrived at home (without any accidents inside or outside the truck) I was pleased to find all our instruments still snug and dry in the bed. All in all, it counts as the most exciting drive I’ve ever taken (even including the time my hood blew off on the freeway!)

Sterling pulled over to talk before he left. “I know you grew up here and know how to drive in this stuff,” he said (mostly I know enough to leave a rear wheel drive pickup with bald tires home when it’s snowing!), “but I wanted to make sure you got home ok. You’ve had a run of bad luck recently."

The phrase “run of bad luck” stuck with me that night as I ran through my mind the list of all the things that had gone wrong recently. It was indeed quite a long list. His words were still running through my mind the next morning when I looked out the back window to discover my beloved apricot tree was gone. It hadn’t crushed the fence though, and hadn’t damaged the outbuilding under it. I had a year’s supply of jam from that tree in the basement, family and friends who help me out in a pinch, a truck to drive, a neighbor who would fix my van, a guardian angel named Sterling, a smart, gorgeous, talented life partner, three beautiful muses, a warm place to sleep, a fantastic gig, a shower that ran, even if it didn’t drain, and people who would come out in a snow storm to listen to my music.

“If that’s a run of bad luck,” I thought, “Bring it on!”

Last weekend we traveled down to the San Rafael to scope out a location for our CD release party. We wanted to get the lay of the land and make sure we could give everyone accurate directions and let everyone know what to expect. We finally settled on the campground by the bridge.

As we set up camp and ate dinner under the giant twisted cottonwood trees, we breathed in the clean desert air and drank in the beauty of the surrounding cliffs in the evening sun. It was deeply satisfying.  We saw only one other vehicle that evening. From where we were camped we could just hear the faint running of water from the San Rafael River.

After dinner we went down to the river with the Muses (our daughters, Eliza, Kjersten, and Lucy). Its waters were still muddy from a rainstorm a day or two earlier and the kids remarked that it looked like chocolate milk. They spent an hour or so wading in the lukewarm water, slipping over rocks and squelching the rich mud between their toes while Mary and I reminisced on our many trips down here while we were dating.  

Back at the campsite we sat and talked and sang as the sun slipped lower and the evening sky began its colorful pilgrimage toward the moon and stars. We sat facing Bottleneck peak. As dusk turned into a rich luminescent darkness I pulled out the mandolin and sang Utah Slim’s song Sister San Rafael. It was a moment I’d like to have packaged and put away to pull out years from now and breathe in its beauty and stillness.

The front cover of Shiver into Spark is a painting of Bottleneck peak by Mary’s brother, Andrew. The album is about transitions, about the places in our lives and the universe where inexplicably, something old ends, and something new begins. It’s about things stripped down to their essence. Over the years the San Rafael Swell is a place we have returned to over and over to come back to that place in ourselves. As I sat in the moonlight I recalled Gerard Manly Hopkins poem...

God’s Grandeur

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
  It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
  It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
  And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
  And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
  There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
  Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
  World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

...and I realized what it was that called me back to the San Rafael Swell year after year. It is the chance to pull off the chains of living in the city, to drop the pretenses of the petty concerns that occupy me, to let my soul sink deep into the soil and the rocks, my sense of time slow to the rhythm of the seasons and the movement of the sun and stars.  I gazed up into a sky free from light pollution, and looked out into the universe, drinking in the vision of vastness and the beauty.

I recalled a conversation I had with an astronomer a couple of years ago. He told me he was often asked what the most marvelous thing he had seen in the skies was. He told me his answer was that in all his stargazing, he had never seen something so beautiful, so fragile, and so glorious as this planet of ours.  He told me that all of his searching and studies had driven home to him just what a gift we had in the planet that birthed us.

I recalled another friend telling me he thought that we humans would only change our relationship to the land once we discovered a sense of “sacredness” for our earth. I thought again of some of my favorite lines in Slim’s song. “This life is your temple… We have no sense of beauty, much less gratitude for grace which keeps this warm blooded planet alive in endless space… This here and now is all we’ve got and my sister’s not for sale.”

It troubled me that I couldn’t remember all the words to the Hopkins poem. I pulled out my smartphone to look it up and saw it had no signal. I smiled, laughed at myself, then settled back to gaze out at the universe in wonder.


Otter Creek will be hosting an intimate CD release party for their album Shiver Into Spark at the campground near the old bridge on the Buckhorn Draw road on September 29, 2012. If you would like to join us you can RSVP and get all the details by joining our event on Facebook or contacting us directly.

We’re excited! The recording is finished. We’re still tweaking a couple of the mixes, working on liner notes and final art and photography selections but Otter Creek’s second album, Shiver into Spark, is now complete enough for us to sit back and listen to it while we finish up final production. The album features some great new songs, a lot of new instrumental techniques we’ve been working on over the past couple of years, and Mary’s recording debut on the Viola.

Here’s our current choice for track order and just a little bit about the songs on the album.

1.       Shiver into Spark

This song helped Peter place as a finalist in two song competitions. As title track it helps set the tone for the whole album, it’s about the spark that lies hidden in cold ashes.

2.       Farewell to Ireland

This is a traditional tune from Scotland. We were first introduced to it by Kate MacLeod when Peter was accompanying her for a short set. We fell in love with it and decided to do our own arrangement. True to form, we couldn’t stay quite in one genre as a little bit of very American funk crept into our version.

3.       Hard Times

Peter first learned this tune from his father, a folksinger, who in turn had learned it from the singing of Rosalie Sorrels. Peter’s father used to perform a Utah specific version of the tune which referenced the Mormon pioneer’s sufferings while crossing the plains but we decided for this project to use Stephen Foster’s original lyrics as they speak eloquently to the economic hardship so many in our world currently face.

4.       Nine Hundred Miles

We first learned this tune from the singing of Odetta. It speaks of the pain of someone far from home, and perhaps far from the person they want to be. It also features the unique instrumental pairing of Viola and Long Neck Banjo. I guess you could call it our “low lonesome sound.”

5.       Ashokan Farewell

One of our favorite fiddle tunes ever worked into both a mellow fiddle solo and sparkling mandolin instrumental.

6.       Meadow Green

This is our arrangement of a little known folk song about one of the greatest tragedies in Utah history.

7.       Devil’s Boots

An original tune about overcoming anxiety (yes… Peter was QUITE shy once upon a time). This song took first place in the Suzanne Millsaps Performing Songwriter Showcase in 2011.

8.       Getting Past the Barking

Another original song about finding love in the most unlikely places.

9.       Fisher’s Hornpipe

Peter’s version of this traditional tune on solo mandolin.

10.   Hi Diddle Di

Some of the people we admire most are living one day at a time. This song is for them.

11.   Take the Climb

We wrote this song in memory of Tyler Clementi, who tragically took his own life after an instance of cyber bullying.

12.   Morning Has Broken

OK… Here we can brag, our own beautiful daughters “The Three Muses” sang this one. We’re pretty sure you’ll love it. We released a preview of this track on Youtube, come have a listen!

13.   Old Joe Clark

Mary plays this traditional tune on solo fiddle as only she can.

14.   Sister San Rafael

The first time we heard Utah Slim sing this song about one of our favorite places in the world we knew we wanted to do a cover of it. Slim’s song went on to win the 2011 NewSongs Showcase at the Walnut Valley festival in Winfield, Kansas where he invited us to perform it with him.

15.   The Times They Are A Changin

Our version of a Dylan tune we really, really love.

The album should be printed and ready to ship by the end of August. We’re taking orders now and offering free shipping for anyone who orders in the next month! We’ll be having a couple of events to celebrate the album’s release and are hoping to have a CD release concert down in the beauty of the San Rafael swell in late September. We’ll post details as they develop. In the meantime you can listen to the two tracks we’ve posted on Youtube or drop in to hear us in concert!