Circles Have No Ends

"The sun's come up now / and the crowd's gone home / and I'm just hanging on by a string." Nat penned these words last year after we disembarked from the Bluebird. One cannot help but feel now the same sadness and desparation to return to the road. It was a long journey -covering about the same 3,500 mile distance that lies between New York and London- that took a lot of diesel and a lot of human fuel but could not have been more worth it. The ensemble of the highway and of the stage could not have been comprised of a better combination of individuals (although a little more of Big Dog "Sexymaphone" Gould could have been a sweetener). Our music got better and tighter each night and seemed to breathe in the spirit of the places we played. We carried the spirit of the lonesome bleary eyed trucker, the sweating greasy Waffle House Grillmaster, the generous friends and family who harbored us, the coffee and the dust and the deafening heat, the supportive fans and media folks, and the glinting angel of a mechanic who gave the Bluebird some love in Philadelphia. We carried them in the grain of the wood of our guitars and in our hearts and in our songs. And hopefully, last night at the Towne Crier, we were able to bring some of that home and resonate it back out to the good people who came to see us on a Sunday. Thamk you David Bravo for loaning us the USS Bluebird, thank you all who put us up and all who put up with us (namely loved ones back home). It is good to be home. There are overgrown gardens to be tended to and ripe tomatoes to be picked. Until the next time amigos. "I was singing with my family / I was singing with my friends / Now we all shall sing together / 'Cuz the circle, it never ends / Will the circle be unbroken..."
Jeremy with the only babe he actually got on the bus the whole tour:

Lucy the Navigator:
Pawling residents come home to roost:

One final rock out on the banjer:

Bluebird, won't you fly?: