Weak coffee in a paper cup. Tilt-a-whirl horizon through a double-paned airplane wing window. Words chatter and chase each other like playground children until they tire and fall to the page. Here they lay, a bit dazed and blurred between this moment and those that led to it, holding tight to the dizziness of deep, smiling breaths.

We’re bumping through turbulence on our way back home, where we’ll be for about a week before leaving again. Almost two weeks ago, the day before an airplane teleported us to the west coast, after searching everywhere that seemed reasonable and eating an unsalted lunch, I found the salt…in the refrigerator. In that moment, staring at the salt on the clear glass shelf in the icebox spotlight, laughing because there was no other way to react, it felt like I was looking at a snapshot summing up the last couple of months of our life. A movie poster trying to quietly depict utter chaos.

We’re building a campervan. Like empty tin can cargo van to something we can comfortably tour and live in for weeks at a time with our dogs. It’s exciting and we are incredibly lucky to be able to do this, but my goodness it’s a lot. And timelines and delays have corralled it into a tight and stressful space.

It took longer than expected to acquire because of all the pandemic car manufacturing issues and companies snatching them up to be delivery vehicles, but we had already put our old van up for sale at a place in Texas (still there if you’re looking for a van!), so there’s no back up plan. Only moving forward with creating a nowhere-near-complete-but-usable space in time for our upcoming tour, which is approaching like a Sunday sunset when you’ve got a straight job. There before you’re ready.

But our time in California and Oregon has reminded us of all the things we are ready for. Connection and community and that exchange of energy between people making and experiencing music. We are grateful to all of the beautiful folks in Sacramento and Sisters for being three-dimensional reminders of why we do what we do. And doing so safely.

In this cloudy space thousands of feet above streets and sidewalks, I’m holding on to that. Hovering in the magic we felt and holding on for what’s awaiting us in the Northeast and Midwest (tour dates below).

We’ll delve into the dirty details of building your own van (taking a jigsaw to the roof and walls, turning a leaf blower into a insulation installer, spinning wire into an electrical system web, freaking out daily, etc) in another newsletter, and leave you with an invitation to join us later this month. Some concerts will be live-streamed if you aren’t in the area or are not comfortable attending concerts in person yet. Several will be with Scott Cook and a couple will be with Wes Collins, both fantastic and beautiful humans and songwriters. All indoor shows will require masks and some require proof of vaccination. Details for all shows can be found through the links on our website concert schedule page.

Thank you for being in this digital space with us, and we look forward to seeing you in physical space again soon.