I’ve always loved a good story and as a child, was especially fascinated with the lives of the Saints. Admittedly, while most of these stories are about being a martyr and dying a most unpleasant and usually untimely death, the stories about St. Francis and St. Christopher left their imprint on me.

Anyone who loves animals can relate to St. Francis, of course, but what some may not know is that St. Christopher is considered the patron saint of travelers. I remember carrying his medal in my pocket whenever I traveled on what I felt was an adventurous, and by that nature, risky trip. Well, most trips post some degree of risk, if you think about it. One never knows what can happen and being accompanied by the patron saint of travelers is kind of like hedging a bet. Or so I thought.

When I wrote this song, I was in a period of great loss in my life. It was almost like the feeling of being set adrift without a life preserver. Sometimes when my internal dialogue gets muddled, I find clarity in playing my guitar and seeing where the journey takes me. St. Christopher stepped into this one.

Like many of my songs, I don’t sit down with the intention of writing about a specific topic or experience. Most often the music dictates what emerges lyrically. I never really understood where this song came from until years later when my husband and I visited New Mexico for an extended period of time. I’ve always had the obvious visuals in my head of canyons and caverns for this song, but there were so many areas of New Mexico that expanded my vision of how to depict this song visually.

For example, driving by a mural of what looked like waves to me and shouting to my husband Richard, “pull over, that’s my ocean scene”! Of course there are the breathtaking vistas of mountains in New Mexico, but the dunes of White Sands National Memorial thrilled me with its expansive and stark landscape. It made my heart leap. I truly understand why New Mexico is known as the Land of Enchantment.

I hope this song carries you on wherever your journeys take you. It is my pleasure to share mine with you. 

ST. CHRISTOPHER

Wide open spaces, stretching forever
Mile upon mile for the singular traveler
The unspoken longing, a craving that drives you
A constant companion, always beside you is love

I feel the distance slowly increasing
Between what you tell me and what I believe in
Facing down demons of doubt and derision
I fall to my knees and I pray for a vision of love

St. Christopher, carry me across
This great divide, I’m weary and lost

Runnin’ from heartache as big as the ocean
Searching for something to crack it wide open
Like caverns and canyons that echo the story
Of rapture and refuge and the power and glory of love
Love, sweet love

St. Christopher, carry me across
This great divide, I’m weary and lost
This heart’s on fire, I’m tired and alone
St. Christopher, carry me home

©Crocus Hill Music 2024

It’s been many years since I’ve written this song, but for some reason I felt compelled to return to it and bring it into a visual medium. I remember so clearly writing this song. We were flying home from a funeral service in Cleveland for a step-nephew. Tucked in my window seat, watching the plane ascend through the cloud cover, the words poured out with the tears I hoped no one would see.

Peter was the son of my father-in-law’s second wife’s second son. (don’t think about that too hard; it makes my head hurt too). We had only met Peter at a few family events, but he impressed us with his intelligence and passion for whatever he was involved with at the time, be it music, art, his social acitiivism or volunteering at his neighborhood elementary school. He had a deep love for this planet and all of its living beings. I remember his impish smile and his genuine kindness, and of course his willingness to talk with us old folks!

But sometimes this life becomes too much to bear, and the pain eclipses the beauty. That’s where Peter was the day he stepped in front of a train in his hometown of Cleveland. My heart cracks open a bit more each time I think of his brief time on this earth.

It would be nearly a year before I was able to record the song with my good friends Holly Circle and Jimmy Steffen. They, along with Michelle Kinney and her beautiful cello, captured every emotion the words carry for me.

I was able to share the song with family and friends about a year later when a memorial garden was dedicated to Peter at the local Quaker school where he volunteered. One thing I clearly remember is my father-law telling me that I never sang so well. I laughed because it is not me singing the lead on this song, but my dear friend Holly. It still makes me chuckle. And I think it would make Peter smile to know that too.

Reach out to your loved ones. We never know how much suffering they may be shouldering in silence.

In memory of Peter Morgenstern-Clarren

SPRINGTIME IN OHIO

Springtime in Ohio in a city by the lake
Watching life unfolding ‘til he feels his heart will break
From all the beauty that life can behold
The morning light, the dew upon the rose

Springtime in Ohio, watch it grow

He tries to understand how any man can fight his fellow man
Why are children born without a hope to carry on
Tell me where is the just and loving being to guide us

Listen to the silence of a million swirling stars
Whispering the secret of a place so near, so far
Winter shrouds the springtime ‘neath her snow
Everything in time will surely grow

Springtime in Ohio, watch it grow
Springtime, in Peter’s Garden, watch it grow

©Crocus Hill Music 2023

My sister Maureen was an avid bicyclist and had the fearless spirit of adventurous explorers. She was in the Peace Corps in Africa during the 1970’s and traveled alone throughout India, Pakistan and Europe. Her last journey was the hardest, succumbing to cancer at the age of 69. It broke my heart and my own spirit.

She loved nature, and above all else, was a champion of the environment. She was composting long before it was fashionable (not sure it is yet…) and knew the names of every flower and bird that she encountered. She had a passion for astronomy and could identy constellations on their celestial journeys throughout the year. I remember a cold winter night outside her home on the shore of Lake Michigan when we had just returned from one of her treatments in Chicago. I was tired, freezing, and knew she was too. But before we could go outside, she insisted on spending time looking up at the stars. It was there that she talked about Orion’s Light. In the words of Paul Simon, a vision was planted in my brain. It would take awhile to realize what it was.

Not long after Maureen’s passing in 2015, my friend and musical compadre, Lonnie Knight was recording his CD, PORTALS. He asked me if I had any songs for him to consider for inclusion on the disc. I passed along two…Me and the Moon (which was later recorded by Prudence Johnson) and Orion’s Light. I am forever grateful for Lonnie’s tender treatment of this song. I know he used a baritone guitar to achieve the beautiful warmth of this song, along with his acoustic and bass guitars. Richard Grossman sweetened the track with his subtle percussion.

Sadly, Lonnie passed away seven years after Maureen. I miss them both beyond measure and think of them each time I see a star filled sky…

In memory of Maureen Elizabeth Frawley

4/10/1947 – 4/28/2015

ORION’S LIGHT

Silence, in the early morn
Slowly rising – coffee’s on
She fills the thermos and heading out the door
She’s gone
She takes the back roads for a different view
Straight and narrow is not her style
Don’t try to catch her, she’s just passing through
For awhile

Lost in the longing the wayfarer’s haunting refrain
Splits the day into night
Charting her dreams between starlight and moonbeams
She follows her heart’s delight
And the only guide, is Orion’s light
Fearless, no apologies
Watch her stumble, tumble, fall and rise again
It doesn’t matter, she just rides the wind
Again

Lost in the longing the wayfarer’s haunting refrain
Splits the day into night
Charting her dreams between starlight and moonbeams
She chases her heart’s true delight
And the only guide, is Orion’s light

©Crocus Hill Music 2023

Some songs take 20 minutes to write – others take 20 years. California Sun is one of those twenty year songs. It was originally written as a slow tempo acoustic song intended to be recorded as such. At some point in time, it took on a life of its own outside of my control. Recorded at the infamous Sound 80 studios in Minneapolis in the early 1980s, I admit that I never liked this version. It was too fast and too overproduced for the mood and expression of what I originally intended. It goes without saying that the arrangement, recording and musician performances were all stellar and very much a reflection of where the industry was at the time. Looking back I can appreciate all that went into it.

Jump ahead a few decades and California Sun became The Letter on my CD Blue Companion. In the intervening years, I wrote a final verse which really closed the chapter on that part of my life and completed the story of that song. My friend and musical compadre, Lonnie Knight, completely understood how this song should be treated and arranged and performed it as I had originally envisioned. He was able to interpret the song’s intention through his extraordinary acoustic guitar work and supporting vocal.

I’m grateful to have both versions of this song, and to the musicians that contributed to each rendition. I’m also grateful for having time and distance to reflect on the evolution of this song.

CALIFORNIA SUN

Living in the California sun, waiting to be born again
Waiting for the strength you thought would come
Ah, but you’re just tired and worn again
Even Mother Ocean she can’t help you now
And the change of scenery doesn’t matter after all
Feelin’ like a Shepard who has lost his only sheep
You are lonely
You tell me that you’re older now and you don’t need to weep
Hey, you don’t fool me

Starting out anew you leave behind the Minnesota winter
But memories still linger in your mind
So you think you’ll write a letter
Even if I wanted I can’t help you now
But the feelings that I have don’t matter anyhow
Time has left us standing on our own two separate shores
We are strangers
I have my own life to live and I know that you’ve got yours
It’s for the better

I see the lights within your city
Fading from view
And now I wonder do you see me
The way I see you

Living in the California sun…

©Crocus Hill Music 1980

My father lived to be 94 years old. He was a man far ahead of his time with a vision for what could be rather than what was.

The first thing you noticed when you drove up to Joe’s home was that it was not shaped like any other on the block. In fact, it wasn’t shaped like any other on almost any block. Joe divided the world into round house people (those that lived in a geodesic dome) and square house people. For him, round house people were different because they could see the world from another vantage point; one where people lived their lives with concern for our environment, using our precious resources judiciously; one where everyone has the healthcare they need, and food to eat; but equally importantly to him, a world where everyone could afford to own their own home. He said that owning your own home instilled a sense of pride in oneself.

Our dad was a man who was born 100 years too early and wanted to live another hundred more. He wanted to build one more dome, read one more book and share a meal with one more friend. Joe left us all with a legacy of passion, independence, Irish stubbornness, and a philosophy that we all should treat each other with kindness and love. He loved us all. He gave to me strength of will along with that Irish stubbornness, and taught me that no matter who you are in this life, if you live what you believe in, treat one another with respect and share your gifts with the world, you will have lived a good life. Our father was a good man who indeed lived a good life.

The chorus for this song was born on a night when the wind was whipping outside my window and lightening was cracking open the sky. My father had just been hospitalized and I knew what lay ahead for him in his final days and I did not want to face it – either for him, or myself. He was my father, but he was my friend and my inspiration. Like so many songs of mine, it took it’s own turn, but the seeds were born of the pain that we all experience from having to face inescapable loss: loss of family, loss of freinds, loss of loved ones.

This song features the beautiful guitar and vocal work of my co-producer and musical compadre, Lonnie Knight and the stunning mandolin work by Peter Ostroushko.

REFUGE

Late at night I see the lightning flashing
‘Cross my eyes it burns into my brain
Hold me down and keep my faith from crashing
I need a way to face this rain

Once I had a true companion
Like a nested bird within a tree
But in time all things abandon
What it is that sets them free

And there isn’t any refuge, there’s no one to rescue me
In the end’s it’s love’s betrayal
That plunges deep beneath
The ocean of my heart and mind
And I cannot find relief
No there isn’t any refuge, no one to rescue me

 You can never tell how love will happen
Right between the eyes or soft and slow
Draw a line and it becomes misshapen
Through traces of the afterglow

I close my eyes and I can almost hear it
If I listen only with my heart
I know in time I’ll find a way to bear it
But leaving is the hardest part

And there isn’t any refuge, there’s no one to rescue me
In the end’s it’s love’s abandon
That plunges deep beneath
The ocean of my heart and mind
And I cannot find relief
No there isn’t any refuge, no one to rescue
You and me again
There is no refuge  there is no refuge
Outside of me
There is no refuge

Refuge is available as a single digital download and on the CD Blue Companion.