Woke early and got on the road to Lexington. I took Highway 25 from Berea to Richmond and meant to stop at Monty's Liquor, but it wasn't on my mind and I drove right past it without it. Through Richmond I meant to stay on 25, but it always confuses me just north of town and I ended up on I-75 instead. I wanted to drive over that one car bridge in the shadows of big oak trees lining the Kentucky River. I've heard stories about people disappearing in the neighborhoods around there.
Oh, and we can't forget the music. On the way to Lexington I logged that the Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton song "Islands in the Stream" struck a little chord or two for me while speeding up I-75. Somewhere along I-64 I remembered my adoration for U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name", although I hoped that I would easily find where I needed to go outside of Frankfort, with or without street names. Here's a couple videos just for fun.
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| Kit, happy smile |
I finally made it to the Panera where Kit and I decided upon meeting and I got a mocha and waited outside for her to arrive. We talked a long while there about life, work, career choices, dreams, health and medicine, and after a while we realized we'd better get going to her apartment. Following her down Richmond Road, back onto Man-O-War, and around to one of the off streets and apartment complexes, I was thinking about the many times I'd driven the 45 minute drive (I made it in 30 one night...) when I had dated someone in the city. But this apartment complex wrapped around on itself and we parked our cars. It's an interesting experience to see the interior homes of people you've known for some time but always in public settings like coffeehouses, classrooms, libraries, and stores. It says a little more about that friend. Kit called up her son to say hello and I saw that Lane had grown into a bright and energetic teenager. She and I set up shop to talk about the fabric collage artwork I would create for her using clothing from her best friend who passed away recently. We sifted through the leopard print, the pretty blue pillowcase, the hoodie. She also pored over some trinkets she'd collected from her friend and from her own life. She wanted a little bit of herself in the artwork to bind their friendship together. We talked over some ideas, symbols, creatures, themes, and then it was time to go. Time had flown. It was now 2:30pm.
After farewells and hugs, I made my way up I-75 to I-64 to exit 58 for Frankfort to head out to Normandi's and David's farm. I passed David on the road before arriving at
PenHouse, but he was working on turning the curve and I was smiling at recognizing him en route. I winded down the road, turned up a gravel road with fields of tobacco and corn on my right and a tall line of trees edging the drop below. AT one point another car was coming toward me down the mostly one-lane road and he drove past me on the right, rising up on the inclining shoulder. Soon I saw the white farmhouse peeking through the trees on my left and I drove up in between two lovely gateways. I recognized her navy blue car and was glad to know she was home. I peeked in, shouted upstairs, and before long Normandi was showing me the ins-and-outs of
PenHouse Retreat Center. There were several very comfortable and inviting bedrooms with desks, bookshelves stocked with titles by theme for each room.
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| Bookshelves & Comfy Chair |
The Kentucky room appealed to me with its blue window curtains, poetry books, and a view into a great big tree. The second window by the dresser looked out and down into the bright green valley lined with trees and blooming flowers. I brought in a few of my things up the endearing creaking wooden stairway, and after I had settled my stuff, I joined Normandi and David at the kitchen table to chat and snack on cucumbers from their garden, cheese, and Ritz crackers.
We talked a while about writing, concepts and themes, upcoming ideas, and what our mutual friends were doing. Then I rode with Normandi to Frankfort because she had a class to attend at the public library. There I met up with her daughter Alaina, who showed me all the soap opera actors and actresses she follows and participates with for charities. She wanted to design a new blog for one of them. When Normandi's class ended at 8pm, we rode back to the house with Alaina close behind.
We arrived just in time for the musicians who trickled in while we were gone. Fiddle tunes were coming from the big barn. Musicians included Joel, Tom C, John Hartford, Anna, Marshall, and of course David on his banjo. We all sat 'round in the circle, me with my camera and video camera. The music went 'round and 'round the group, a leg kick signaling the last turn on any given song. I can't remember all the songs that played, many of which I hadn't heard in a long long time and a few I hadn't heard ever before. Alaina had brought around a sling-back chair to lounge and read in, but after a while the comforting music and the warm air made me drowsy. I managed to record a few songs on video, though the lighting was dark.
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| Old Time Music Jam in the Barn |
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| Old Time Music Jam in the Barn |
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Most of us retired around 10:30pm, but we ended up chatting a while longer at the kitchen table. David came in after the tuneful bunch had left, and prepared himself to sleep in the tent by the corn so he'll keep the raccoons away. Back upstairs in the Kentucky room and pored over the shelves to read the authors she's stockpiled there. I pulled a couple familiar poetry books to browse and re-read a few poems by some people I know and a few I don't know but appreciate as if I did. Sleepy, I pulled back the white coverlet, rested my head on the pillow, and turned out the light.
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| In the backyard, gardens and get-aways |
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| Adirondack chairs for enjoying sunrise to sunset |
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