Mary Rocap: Journal

I have collected my stories about our backyard chicken flock and self-published them through Lulu.com (go to links to others to get to the site from here).
I'm so excited about this - I've been working on them for about three years. It's been a totally enjoyable project. Anyone who knows me knows I always have a new chicken story to tell. They are fascinating to me.
I want to give a shout out to April Higgins for helping me by designing the book. Thanks April.

I can now put on my resume that I have stood in for Andrea Moore. Andrea was to have sung "O Holy Night" at the 9:00 Christmas Eve service at St. Matthew's but she has a strained vocal chord and is on 3 months of voice rest. So, now I will sing my "Twas on a night" which is perfect for Christmas Eve.

"Twas in the dead of winter the angels did proclaim
To sleepy-eyed poor shepherd boys who with their flocks remained
They were not praying for a sign
When they gazed up in the sky
The stars ascended brightly til heavenly hosts drew nigh

God's word of peace and brotherhood came to these gentle folk
They were not learned men, nor wise, but to them the angels spoke
They marveled then they followed
And found the sleeping babe
And told to all who'd listen of the child that'd been born to save

'Twas on a night such as this the angels did proclaim
To sleepy-eyed poor shepherd boys who with their flocks remained
Tonight I look up at the stars
The stars look down on me
The heavens still sing peace on earth to God all glory be.

Merry Christmas everyone!

I've been waiting for the return of this song bird to our area. This morning I heard the distinctive voice: Sunday, May 2. Two years ago it was April 19. I remember because I announced it at a house concert I did that evening. So, I've been waiting with some anxiety since mid-May for the sound of the glorious song. Did you know the wood thrush achieves their sound because they have two vocal chords so they can sing harmony with themselves. (I learned this, as most everything else interesting, by listening to National Public Radio.)
Below are the words of the song I wrote in his honor:

Little Bird

And the little bird sings in the cool of the day
When the sun comes up
And the sun goes down
He’s got happy things to say

And the little bird sings from the highest tree
Hidden in the leaves
of the canopy
Doesn’t wanna be seen

When my head’s brought low by this world of woe
And trouble’s leaning on my door
I marvel at the simple joy that hearing can restore

When the little bird sings in the cool of the day
When the sun comes up
And the sun goes down
He’s got happy things to say

And the little bird sings I cannot stay
I come in the spring
and I leave in the fall
And it’s always been this way

But the little bird sings a promise true
When the jessamen blooms
I’ll be coming home soon
And will sing a song for you

When the nights are long and the wind blows cold
And the days are gray and drear
I hold onto the hope of spring
When the wood thrush reappears

And the little bird will sing in the cool of the day
When the sun comes up
And the sun goes down
He’s got happy things to say

The St. Matthew's Womens Singing Circle began in 2009 when Megan Whitted, the music director of St. Matthew's, and I began to prepare for a the annual homecoming service of St. Mary's Chapel. We realized very quickly that the group that formed was a keeper! We meet monthly for a compline serivce (a service of evening prayer) and unaccompanied singing. We sing with no music in front of us - only words. We create our own harmonies based on the voices present. We add readings of literature which seem to provide context for many of the hymns and spirituals since we are drawn to music from the 19th century south. Lee Smith and Charles Fraizer are favorite authors since much of their writing seemed to be inspired by song.
We sing in sacred space and find ourselves strengthened and enriched by lifting our voices, as community in song.
Although the Circle is more about the process than performance - we have had the opportunity to share audiences both in programs and within services, such as memorial services.

Here's my all-star list:
And just breaking:
"Cassiopeia" to be included in a compilation CD for the NC BioFuel Music Project.

1. Finalist in the 2008 NC Songwriters Coop Song Contest for the songs "Cotton" & "Hallelujah"

2. Finalist in the 2005 NC Songwriters Coop Song Contest for the songs "Flamingoes" & "Cassiopia"

3. Finalist in the 2004 Hank Williams Flat Rock Music Festival for the song "I Got a MInd to Love You"

4. Finalist in the 2004 Cats Cradle Song Contest for the songs "Mileposts", "
Sadie, Sadie Hawkins Day" & "Tell Me Why"

5. Honorable Mention in the 2003 NC Songwriters Coop Song Contest for the songs "Mileposts" & "Tell Me Why"

6. Alternate Finalist in the 2003 Cats Cradle Songwriters Contest for the songs "North Star", "Kingdoms Rise", & "Resting Up"

I was looking at the traffic to my website yesterday and found out there is a percentage of people who don't know me that get to my site because of a search for chicken pictures. So I guess I'll put out a little more feed for the chicken lovers of the world and post the following story!
I have been writing little stories about my chickens for the last year or so. Some of you may have noticed the pictures I have on this site of some of them. I have now published a book of stories called Little Chicken Stories which you may order simply by emailing me from this site. The following is one of the chapters.

Matters of Life & Death by Mary Rocap

The summer of 2007 in the Piedmont of North Carolina was hot and dry. The average high was 96; the highest high was 105. August was the hottest and second driest month on record at the Raleigh Durham Airport (the official weather data collection spot in our area). Dogwoods were turning brown; poplars were losing yellowed leaves. The local growers of the Hillsborough Farmers Market had given up irrigating since no amount of watering seemed to quench the thirst of the soil and their ponds were getting low. People asked politely about their neighbor’s wells.

The end of summer was also when our friend Greg was trying to figure out why he had no energy and would shake with cold while running a temperature. Turned out he had leukemia. He called me from the hospital just before going into a week of chemotherapy saying he and his wife Carol were confident they could beat this. One week later he was dead – a catastrophic reaction, from which he could not, did not recover.

The heat stressed everybody and it stressed our hens; they started laying fewer eggs as if to say “Just be thankful we made it through another day.” A day they had spent with their panting beaks open, seeking the shade and relative cool of the woods surrounding our home. Why one of our hens would decide to sit on a clutch during this hot spell is beyond me. But sit she did in the coop where temperatures surely were 10 degrees above the actual. She had laid claim to eight eggs.

After three weeks of her sitting, looking mean, and poophing out when approached, there was movement and a little head shyly peeking out from her breast where she sat on her nest. By the end of the day there were three little fluff balls, a buff and two with shades of gray coloration. The next day she left her nest abandoning the five remaining eggs, and took her little brood down the plank to the fenced area under the coop. We rejoiced at her accomplishment in the face of such adverse conditions.

That evening we caused a complete panic as Tom decided to it was time to confine an increasingly pesky rooster. There was chaos and pandemonium. The little chicks fled through the fence, but Momma was trapped. Tom and my attentions were completely focused on the rooster and so didn’t appreciate the desperate situation we had created for Momma. She eventually got herself over the 6-foot fence and shot like a bat from hell through the woods in hot pursuit of her babes.

At that point the situation we had created sunk in and we went into search and rescue mode. We listened for peeps – couldn’t hear any; walked slowly through the woods – didn’t see any. It was an hour ‘til dusk and time was short.

Alas, we did not find them. We delayed closing up the birds ‘til well after dark hoping they would return. We felt like idiots.

This was the within days of receiving word of Greg’s death. At our very late dinner Tom prayed “Thy will be done.” to which I involuntarily responded “No.” I wasn’t ready for another dose of God’s will.

The next morning I went out looking for Momma and her chicks. I went to the hen house and was surprised to find one of the five remaining eggs had a crack in it. I picked it up and it peeped! Completely taken aback I squeezed it slightly and it peeped again. Who knew a chick peeped before hatching? Who knew that eggs cool to the touch, abandoned a whole day would be viable?

I picked up all five eggs and hurried inside making a little nest in a basket and setting it under the heat lamp that was warming our 10-day old mail-order chicks housed in a big box in our living room. I called work and said I would be late, called my Mom & Dad to see if they wanted to come over and watch with me, and called Tom with the good news.

In fact, while the sound of the peep was good news I learned it takes some time and effort for a chick to hatch. The egg shutters and shakes. Eventually more of the shell opened and we could see a little beak with its egg tooth and some of the body. The whole body pulsed like a little heart, straining against the constraints of the shell. Surprisingly, the membrane seemed to pose the most difficulty, tearing separately from the breaking of the shell. I called my neighbor Joy who has a lot more experience in these matters and she counseled against helping the chick out of the shell (which I was inclined to do). She said it is the effort of the chick against the shell that makes the chick ready to stand after hatching.

Realizing this is a solitary task for the chick I reluctantly left for work. Mom said she would check in on the progress. At 12:30 she reported that we had the cutest little fluffy buff chick.

What good and amazing news!

When I got home late afternoon, wonder-of-wonders, Momma was back with her three little ones. We introduced her new one to her and she accepted it with solemnity.

I know that human life, the life of my friend Greg, is not comparable to the lives of my little birds. He was a close friend, my best song critic, a wise and compassionate person. I miss him. Yet I know that God loves all of his creation – all creatures great and small. It is written that God knows when every sparrow falls (“Yet not one of them is forgotten in God’s sight” Luke 12:6) and those words resonate in me. I love the song “His Eye is on the Sparrow” with its colliery line “and I know he cares for me” made famous by Ethel Waters. And in truth, the miraculous life of these little birds has been some comfort.

Life is a mystery. In the end we don’t know what death is or what purpose it serves. It pleases me that Momma and her chicks’ lives were spared; it hurts that Greg’s life was taken and that hurt will stay hurt a long time. “The Lord giveth, the Lord takest away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21) I have to try to offer both the rejoicing and the mourning to God and claim, by faith, that death is not the end, but a new beginning. Life will have the last word, not death.

And so, journey on Greg.

I want to pay tribute to a close friend, Greg Taylor, who died Sunday, September 2. Greg was a person whose counsel I sought and friendship I treasured.
We were in a songwriting circle and he always had positive and insightful suggestions. We also worked together at Whole Foods and Wellspring Distributors, shared performances, and served together on the board of the NC Songwriters Coop. I last saw him at the Eno Festival in July and last talked to him from the hospital. He had been admitted for treatment of recently diagnosed leukemia.
Condolences go out to his wife, Carol, and everyone who knew him. His presence in our lives will be greatly missed.
Go in peace Greg and may your soul rise in glory.

I've got a picture of Greg in my photo section. His website is www.gregtaylormusic.com -- his album All in My Hands is available for purchase from there. It would mean a lot to Carol if you bought one.

A myth-song about the mineral mica. I was inspired by Galadrielle's Song. from Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings - A part of that is quoted making up the last verse of my song.

Ever was but now I am
And chose I mortal form
To taste the apple and the pear
To feel the sun and storm
Crossed eternal starry sea
The never ending night
To rest upon the sandy shore
And view the morning light

One hundred years passed as a day
And then I felt bereft
And looked above a starry hosts
And longed for what I’d left
Three messengers had I retained
Three messengers of flight
Falcon, moth, and turtle dove
“Fly high into the night”

One thousand years passed as a day
And one by one they came
Weary travelers from afar
All with a sad refrain
“Foolish Mica, ever bright
Why did you have to roam?
You stayed too long, and were forgot
So far away from home”

Then I turned my face from them
And toward the setting sun
Still and silent like a stone
And stone I did become
Ten thousand years of sun and storm
Crushed me to sparking dust
Three winged friends spread my remains
O’er all the earth’s hard crust

"And if of ships I now should sing
What ship would come to me?
What ship would bear me ever back
Across so wide a sea?"

copyright 2006

Here is my made-up myth-song for why the redbud flower is so obviously purple:

Where the meadow meets the wood
A dark limbed tree does grow
And in the springtime breezes
Redbud blossoms blow
I see them on the road sides
On the edges of the lane
Between the tended and the wild
The tangled and the tame
But why it’s called a redbud
I sure would like to know
There is no ruby in its blush
Saying don't make it so

When the redbud was first named
It bloomed a scarlet true
But March he was a chilly wind
Tinged with icy blue
No lovlier a vision;
The colors did enchant
Indigo and crimson
Birthed a miscreant
And thus the wild bred blossom
Takes on a purple hue
In memory of when wind met flower
And flower said I love you
And flower said I love you

copyright 2006

Well, "Hallelujah! Amen." has officially begun. I was in Overdub Studio two days this week and got a lot of great singing done with my girls and Lise Uyanik. For those of you who know Lise and my repertoire I am happy to say that we recorded Travelin' Shoes and O, Freedom. We consider these two songs signature songs and have performed countless times over a span of three decades. It is a great feeling to have documented this material.
None of the songs on this CD will be originals and in fact most were written in the 18th century.

I'm now listed in the online resource "Southern Artistry" (go to the link section for a direct link to this site).
Isn't that neat?

Just came back from a great recording session at Overdub Studio with Bo Lozoff and his new project. The very talented John Plymale was at the controls. Lise Uyanik, Shannon Dancy, and I were the female vocalists. David Kramer, Shannon's boyfriend Rick, and Will McFarlane (sporting a Scotish kilt I must add) were the male vocalists. We all stood around a central mic and did these wonderful sing-a-long kind of choruses. I also did two songs just with Will. The CD will be coming out in the fall - November 4 (it's on my calendar for the release concert at The Carrboro ArtCenter). I think it is going to be a good CD when finished - check it out later.

We bought our own baby chicks and they arrived Easter Monday, April 17 - how appropriate for new life. 37 of the little guys and gals came in the mail peeping away.
Tom and I almost feel like proud parents!

How do you catch a unique rabbit?
Unique up on it.

How do you catch a tame rabbit?
Tame way, unique up on it.

I have been quilting since I was in college. I needed a bedspread; I had material so I decided to make a quilt. No one taught me. I just did it. I used the Grandmother’s Churn Dasher Pattern. Well, that was over 30 years ago.
I found I love making quilts. In general, I like to work small; 45x60 seems to be a good size. I like a rectangular shape. I like a vertical line. I like fabric that has some weight to it; color that has depth or sheen. I like to decorate a traditional pattern with buttons, sequins, or embroidery. Quilts, I have found, are a good use for earrings that have lost their mate. I like to make the plain fancy, the serviceable beautiful. My approach to quilt making is not the different from my approach to music. I draw from the past but I make it my own.
There is a certain joy in piecing together colors to make a pattern – a quilt top. But the act of quilting enhances every ordinary or exquisite top. The primary element in quilting is time. There is a commitment from me to devote the in and out movement of my fingers, countless stitches and knots to take a top and turn it into a quilt. I machine piece but I hand quilt and to me that is what makes the work come alive. My signature my breath is in every stitch.
Another element of my work is that I use what I have at hand. I do not plan a pattern and then go to the store and buy the needed fabrics. I start with what I have, what I’ve collected, what I’ve been given over the years. Then if necessary I’ll buy what is missing. In this sense I feel I stay true to the thrifty nature of the craft.
It is true that quilting is a craft. The product serves a purpose. But the product is also a piece of art drawing the eye back again and again to the beauty of the work. This is what I try to do: to make a thing of beauty to be used and enjoyed for years to come.

Sue Klausmeyer, the conductor of the UNC Women's Glee Club bestowed upon me a a great honor: an invitation to tour with the UNC Combined Glee Clubs on their Winter Tour this year. We went Charlotte, Charleston, Gastonia, and Asheboro Thursday January 5 through Monday January 9.
It was a great experience. I really enjoyed being a part of the program and also hearing their wonderful music. And, I got a song out of the experience. Driving through the countryside I was struck by all the fields of cotton. So I wrote a song about cotton. Did you know that the cotton blossom is white the first day of its bloom but by the second day it has turned red; the third day it falls off the plant. Such is life . . .

After working for so many years in the food industry, having my own restaurant and then working with Whole Foods I pretty much have lost any interest in cooking. I do still enjoy baking and making breakfasts for those special mornings. Here's a great recipe I have adapted which originally came from The Vegetarian Epicure (feeds 4-6):
German Apple Pancake
1. peel and slice up 4 apples and saute in 1 T butter with 1/4 cup brown sugar and cinnamon til soft and somewhat carmelized--set aside
2. whisk together 3 eggs with 3/4 cup of unbleached flour then add 3/4 cup milk and 1/4 t salt. It should be a very smooth batter
3. melt 2 T butter in a large iron fry pan -- add batter
4. put fry pan (and batter) in 450 degree oven for 10 minutes. Be prepared to prick it with a fork when it rises in a bubble formation
5. turn down oven to 350 degrees and continue baking til done (around 15 minutes)
6. turn out on a serving plate and spread with softened cream cheese; add the cooked apples
7. fold it in half like you would an omlette and sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve immediately with maple syrup

So, we've got this lost flock of beautiful chickens that have been visiting our yard on a daily basis for the last two months. I love watching them. There are now ten remaining (two roosters and 8 hens); down from 18. Unfortunately our dog Zoe killed two of them while penned up! Apparently those two just flew into her pen - why they would do that I can't imagine. But there are other predators about as well - hawks, loose dogs, and fox. Anyway I have become increasingly attached to them and count them every morning hoping they all made it through the night. I am also concerned that they will have a harder time at it now that colder weather is coming on. So yesterday I bought them cracked corn and a water device. I guess I am claiming them as mine. And who knows maybe these chickens will come out in song lyrics - as I seem to be accumulating birds in my songs: flamingoes, doves, bluebirds, cardinals, owls, songbirds, and wood thrush. So time will tell. . .

I have been given this opportunity to work with the UNC Women's Glee Club by their conductor Sue Klausmeyer. Marielle is in this chorus. We are working on Halleujah and Sand of the Sea. Today I had a wonderful time introducing the songs and singing them through with the women - all 40 of them - at their retreat! I look forward to the performance scheduled for 11/16 at Carol Woods Retirement Community.

This small outdoor festival began 27 years ago by Robin and Linda Williams in Verona, VA in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. It is held the first weekend of August, this year August 5-7. It was about a four hour trip from our home and about 20 minutes from Harrisonburg where my sister and her family have been living the past three years. We've come up for visits so it felt like familiar territory.

I was thrilled to get the invitaion to play - to share the stage with Robin and Linda Williams and Their Fine Group, James Keelaghan, and No Strings Attached.

I was asked to do a workshop on Saturday morning, as well as three concerts, two on Saturday and one on Sunday. I wasn't sure what the expectations were for the workshop but ended up talking about my songwriting muses and singing example songs.

The most eventful of the concerts was on Saturday night when it began to rain early in my set. One of the hosts came up behind me with a large umbrella and so I proceeded for several songs and then it was decided that everyone would regroup to a covered pavillion a short distance away. So regroup we did. I was horrified to find myself in front of the crowd with no amplification. I wanted to vaporize on the spot. But all turned out well and even wonderful as I tossed out my set list and started to remember songs that everyone could sing along with ending up with "Down to the River to Pray." The audience did indeed join in happily and harmonioulsy. So it ended up on a real sweet note as we were all together sheltered from the rain and making music together.

On Sunday I did a gospel set and as Marielle and Christiana and two of my nieces, Bethany and Dawn were there we were able to get rehearsed and they sang with me closing the set.

It was a wonderful time. I loved hearing James Keelaghan's rich voice and his wonderful songs. No Strings Attached were highly entertaining and are wonderfully accomplished musicians. And of course, the blend, sound, and humor of Robin and Linda Williams and Their Fine Group was a delight to my ears.

Thanks to Mel Lee, host of "Song Bag" at WEMC, Harrisonburg VA for playing my CDs and sugesting me as a performer and to Oakley Pearson for the actual invite.

I now have some pictures in the photo session of this festival. And, there are more if you go to their website. I have it a link for it under links to others. Thanks to Roz Collins, one of the organizers for taking the pictures and making them available.