Today we played together for the first time since you helped us reach our Kickstarter goal. The back porch was breezy and Patrick the cat caught a mouse in the compost bin. There was talk about performing some sort of ceremony to show our gratitude for your support. We are so grateful. Don’t really know how to type that loudly enough! We raise our tea mugs to all of you who have joined us on the Road to the Ryman so far by coming to a performance, feeding us, spreading the word, housing us, by your in-kind donations, the sharing of your precious time, and backing the production of our album via Kickstarter.
Thanks to your help, Adam Selzer begins mixing this week. We can’t wait to hear what he does. We look forward to the next steps and really can’t wait for September when you’ll be able to visit Rick’s stories and Stellarondo’s music in their new home.
Last month on our first tour with Rick we rolled along the same downhill route that water takes when it leaves Missoula. Near Sandpoint, Idaho we passed by the site of the ice age dam that once locked millions of gallons of water into our valley home. Along the Columbia River Gorge we looked up at abrupt shorelines that formed when the ice dam broke and the water surged out to sea. We coasted along the top of the Gorge where open van windows let in the scent from orchard rows of cherry blossoms nourished from the roots by water washed down from the mountains.
In Astoria, Oregon, at the farthest part of our journey, we found ourselves in a hotel perched at the end of a pier that juts out into the finish line of the Columbia River. The Cannery Pier Hotel let us trade songs and story for a night’s stay. Fowl rested outside our window in eddies created by large bridge supports. The main current flowed around the stilts beneath our hotel pier as it hauled ass to the Pacific. Days earlier, bitty parts of that great volume of water slid into Rattlesnake Creek as droplets of water a couple of blocks from where we rehearse. Gibson did a little bit of math and figured out that, indeed, the Montana droplets surrounding us on the pier had left Missoula County just about the same time we did. All gained momentum, partnered with many others, and are making the transformation from river to tide.
We’ll keep in touch.