Blue Moon Farm Archives -

Magic Cauldron

By Simone Lipscomb | September 29, 2014

Opening concert of the Frog Pond season and the torrential rainfall, the flash floods, the get-out-your-waders event simply didn’t happen, at least not in Silverhill, Alabama. Where there’s good juju perhaps the storms stay away just long enough for friends to come together after a long summer break to celebrate music, life and all things good.

Willie Sugarcapps opened the season and it seemed especially potent given that it is the group’s birthplace. This group is an example of the kind of magic that happens on the back porch stage at Blue Moon Farm.

Reconnecting with friends, with the music we all love, is a wondrous thing. But it goes beyond that. It’s as if the land itself welcomed us all back…the musicians and music-lovers so the spirit of community was sparkling and evident by smiles, hugs, singing coming from under the tent. We had a revival all right…a revival of the love of music and each other.

If you don’t go, you just won’t know….how sweet the spirit of friendship and the common love of music creates a place of happiness and joy. Witnessing the coming together of musicians sharing new songs, performing them for the first time together, shows us all the potent creative process in action. A lesson not to be ignored.

On a personal note, there’s sometimes a song that goes straight to my heart and creates an opening. Sometimes we all need reminding of the light within….or the star within. Thanks Brother Will…and all the members of Willie Sugarcapps for bringing their hearts and creative spirits to the Frog Pond. You all show us magic in action. And to Cathe Steel…you provide a container for this magic to happen. So thanks for stirring the cauldron of creativity and inviting us all to witness the beauty.

Everyday Miracles

By Simone Lipscomb | March 10, 2014

The moist, warm earth yielded easily as my fingers pushed into it to create a home for each new plant…kale, mustard, brussel sprouts, cilantro and oregano. Nearby neighbors of broccoli, rosemary and strawberries welcomed the new garden dwellers.

I’m not much of a vegetable gardener but rather find flowers to be my ‘thing.’ But there’s a yearning within me to make the connection between earth and food so I grow a few veggies and some fruit. The energetic connection of soil, sunlight, water, plant and human is alchemical. To think that my body is nourished by plants grown in my yard, under my care is really quite miraculous. I’d rather consume the colors of flowers…they delight me so….but thus far I haven’t learned to survive on flower power.

Osprey...image taken in Florida last winter — Osprey…image taken in Florida last winter

It was a wild day on the river. Turkey buzzards covered boathouses and trees far upriver…and then gathered in great numbers and rode thermals. The osprey couple was mating as I paddled past them. I cheered them on. The great blue heron couple has a nest in the same pine tree as last year. Pelicans continue to hunt far upriver for fish…come to think of it I haven’t seen many fish lately.

Some kind soul must have heard me last Sunday morning using a hand saw to cut a tunnel through the downed tree over the river…heard me grunting, possibly spouting a few colorful words…have you ever sawed standing up on a paddle board?? Much to my delight someone had cut a proper stand-up passage through the downed maple tree with a chain saw. That was a great surprise.

It was another great afternoon of music at The Frog Pond. Guitar deliciousness…oh, MY! Bill Kirchen, Will Kimbrough, Webb Wilder, Corky Hughes, Grayson Capps and Luther Womble. Lovely music and folks.

In reflecting back on the past few days it feels really good to see spring coming and colder weather backing off a bit. Wildlife is dancing with the season and I’m finding my way to have more contact with nature, to practice cherishing the earth and all things wild as a daily spiritual practice. Life goes on and somehow I find my place in it…and feel such gratitude for everyday miracles.

Paradise in the Palm of My Hand*

By Simone Lipscomb | February 11, 2014

This morning while traveling along Highway 135 through Gulf State Park I came upon a tiny bird in the road. A larger bird was standing next to it and so my first thought was a baby bird had flown into the road. I slammed on the brakes and pulled over and by that time realized it wasn’t the correct season for baby birds to be flying.

The spillway where I stopped is in a large curve and as soon as I opened the door I heard a truck coming. I started waving frantically and the driver stopped. I ran out into the road and scooped up the little warbler. Since it was raining I jumped back in my car and simply held the little gal. The worst thing with injury is shock..and cold.

After a few minutes I opened my hand and honestly, it didn’t look very promising. The bird’s neck was okay but it was lethargic. Since it was 47 degrees and wet, keeping my little friend warm was imperative so I sat and simply held her cradled snugly in my hand. I felt slight movements and took this as a good sign. I have held far too many birds that passed away quietly in my hands after hitting a window or being hit by an automobile. And the little yellow-rumped warblers are notorious for darting out in front of traffic.

Twenty minutes passed and I opened my hand again wanting to get a better assessment of her injuries. She appeared more alert and even clumsily hopped off my hand onto the floor. I carefully gathered her in my hand and placed her on the dash. She sat there staring for a while and finally began to look around more..she looked awake! I opened the passenger window and let her feel the cooler air.

Finally, I picked her up and let her perch on my finger. I moved my hand toward the window and whoosh….off she flew. Strong little wings carried her to a bush not far from my car. I sat for a few moments longer observing, making sure she was okay.

*Will Kimbrough wrote a new song called Paradise. The first time I heard him perform it at the Frog Pond it deeply touched me. It’s about this area along the Gulf Coast in which I was born and, after twenty years away, am happy to call home once more. As I sat and held the tiny warbler in my hand I thought of Will’s song and the line…”paradise in the palm of your hand.’

She left a little present for me on my dash...

I felt the connection to all life here as the precious bird sat in my palm…animals, plants, salt water, river mud…people. I feel so blessed, so full of gratitude for everyone and everything that makes this home to me.

Where the Wild Things Are

By Simone Lipscomb | April 9, 2013

As I was photographing the musicians at Blue Moon Farm last weekend I realized that I was actually enjoying connecting with humans through photography. What? Surprised at the realization I contemplated it as I sat, transfixed by the jam happening ten feet from me.

I love music but the draw to photograph humans has never been very strong. Why was I photographing…humans? As I witnessed the outrageous creative process happening last Friday night and Sunday afternoon, understanding dawned.

Wildlife and wild places speak to me deeply, profoundly. So much so that I often ignore the beauty found in my own species…humans. My reason for avoiding photographing humans is that we are so domesticated…so disconnected from the spark of wildness that keeps us plugged in to the planet….to the cosmos and my work is really about capturing that spark of wildness, of raw, untamed beauty.

The musicians that play at The Frog Pond are masters at creating something harmonious, something beautiful out of thin air. My theory is they are still connected to that primal spark of pure, creative energy. They are still plugged into the untamed unlimited-potential cosmic soup in the creative cauldron of the Universe. They come together to tap into that source. And the result is explosively great music.

Wild animals are mostly free from domesticated parameters and boundaries. They live without thinking about living. Instinctually they exist on this beautiful planet, wild hearts free to be exactly who they were born to be. I cherish them for this.

Buddy and Lucky are residents at The Frog Pond — *Residents of The Frog Pond*

Animals that are around humans become domesticated and soon adapt our behaviors. Some wild traits may remain but for the most part, the wildness is bred out over time.

And just to be clear, I’m not suggesting we go back to caves and clubbing dinosaurs but rather simply remember our connection to the unlimited potential we are born with and not become seduced or conditioned into thinking we are less than what we are…or that we cannot fully express the gifts we were born to give the world.

The musicians that frequent The Frog Pond stage at Blue Moon Farm remind me that it is possible to tug the tails of stars that dwell in the cosmic soup and bring forth beauty simply by showing up, opening up and being willing to yank on the thread of pure creative energy that is available to all.

*Cathe Steele, owner of Blue Moon Farm and Music Mama of The Frog Pond*