Showing posts with label Mary Oliver. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mary Oliver. Show all posts

22 May, 2026

Vernal Prog in Appleton

When I saw that Stick Men were returning to the Appleton Beer Factory, I immediately bought a ticket because having a ticket obligates one to go even if the show is out of town. They were last there in 2024 and it was a great concert which allowed me to rock out within mere feet of prog gods. Seeing Peter Gabriel live, Tony Levin was this small figure in the distance playing bass or Chapman stick but at the Appleton gig, he was about 6 or 8 feet away and seemed to be simultaneously larger than life and just this guy who happened to have a Chapman stick hanging down in front of him. I could see his fingers work their magic on the stick as he culled manic melodies from the 10 strings of the mysterious instrument.

And so last month my ladyfriend and I made a trek to Appleton for an overnighter on a cloudy afternoon. Upon pulling into the parking lot, we spied this lion donning wings and with what I take to be the Appleton skyline painted on it outside the hotel's entryway.


I wondered if there are more chimeric lions around town just as other Wisconsin burgs have painted cows and Madison has various decorated Bucky Badgers that are to be found around town.

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Back in 2024 I had come to Appleton to see a band perform but also to find respite from my wife and my marriage. But now I had a new partner. Instead of wandering Appleton alone, I had someone to explore the town with.

Our first stop was The Cozzy Corner for dinner. I'd stopped in there last time I was in town and enjoyed the blues/R&B decor as well as the food. My ladyfriend had been there a few times back in the day when she'd been in town for conferences.




I went with chicken and ribs.


My lady and I were in agreement: the ribs were dry and had a weird gritty/sinewy kind of texture which we thought was from being reheated. Not beyond edible but disappointing. Perhaps they'll be better on our next visit when Stick Men are back in a year or two.

To cheer ourselves up, we stopped in at The Book Store. That's not true. We stopped in because both of us love books and bookstores and would have done so even if our dinner had been superlative. Perhaps unimaginatively named, it was a spacious spot with rows and rows of shelves bursting with books, glorious books.


The romance section was likely the largest I've seen in any bookstore ever. Harlequin novels were categorized by cover color, whatever that indicated, and the sheer volume of space dedicated to this genre was a bit disconcerting. They even had an "extra spicy" section.


I dared not crack the spine of any of these "romances" lest I blush once learning what playing doctor truly entails.

Someone involved with the store is a Doctor Who fan. Tom Baker was to be found in a couple different spots in the sci-fi section.


The Doctor's arch enemies were lying in wait at the checkout ready to exterminate unsuspecting readers.


I ended up buying a book of poetry.


At first I thought that it was my first tome of verse but that's not true. It's the second as I have a copy of The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot on my shelf by which I mean still in a box somewhere.

I'd first run into Mary Oliver's work via the woman who organizes the Token Creek cleanup excursions that I've attended and thought that it was a good time to delve into her writing as I'd found the readings of a couple of her poems to be absolutely lovely.

With our purchases in hand, we headed back to the hotel where I'd relax for a little while before heading back downtown for the show while my ladyfriend would settle in for the night.

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The Appleton Beer Factory was hoppin' when I got there. There was a spot at the bar just for me and I cozied up with the beer menu. An Irish dark lager stood out for me. If I recall correctly, it was on nitro and was only around 3.5% A.B.V. meaning I could have 2 or 3. It was really tasty with a smooth body and a dry, mild roastiness. Just perfect.

As showtime approached, I went into the backroom which had a stage nestled in amongst the conical fermenters and boilers, kilometers of pipes, and plumbing equipment. Off to the side I noticed a guy setting up his recording rig and assumed it was the same taper from last year. I asked him if his recording was going to end up being available on Dime and he replied that it would, if turned out well enough.

Last time drummer Pat Mastelotto had a medical emergency and was unable to perform. Sitting in for him was his drum tech, methinks. This night, however, Mastelotto was ready, willing and able.

I adore Pat Mastelotto's drumming. His playing is intricate yet not overly busy, exciting but not pushy. He'll trigger something MIDIly with one hand and then starting playing a drum or cymbal while his other hand keeps a beat with a shaker. There's a lot going on but not to distraction. It's such a pleasure to watch him ply his trade.


The show began with a bit of improv before they went into "Cusp". I love this song! Mastelotto is just behind the beat and he looks like an octopus as he seems to have enough arms to constantly reach for a cymbal or a floor tom. Levin is playing a melodic lead, while Markus Reuter conjures a bass line from his touch guitar.

This was followed by "Brutal", the title track of their last album. I hadn't heard any of their new material at the time but really enjoyed it as the song had a kind of swagger - a swagger run through a regimen of Crimsonesque angular THRAK. Speaking of which, we were treated to a Fripp solo tune, "Breathless", in addition to a few Crimson tunes.


All of the Frippery sat well next to the Stick Men originals. The virtuoso playing was a joy to behold whether the song was a chaotic rocker or something quieter and more contemplative.

I stopped at the merch table after the show and grabbed a copy of Brutal before heading back to the hotel, ears ringing.


Stepping into our room, I found my ladyfriend fast asleep. Only her head remained uncovered while the rest of her body lay enshrouded by the blanket. It was a lovely, peaceful moment. The look on her face was one of serenity and I felt wanted coming to a bed with a woman who desired to be next to me. It was also great knowing that I would return home and deal not with a failing marriage but with a burgeoning romance. Life got worse after my last visit but it has since gotten much better.

22 December, 2025

Spending solstice among the trees

After a walk at Acewood, I was off to Token Creek Park to once again help out with a bit of oak prairie restoration.

Last month the project attracted only 3 of us but this time around there were 12-15 hardy souls. As she did last time, our organizer began the proceedings by reading a poem by Mary Oliver. When she had finished, we grabbed our gear and headed down the trail.

At the work area, we split into two groups with one cutting down the dreaded buckthorn and applying herbicide to the stumps while the other cut the trees into burnable pieces and did the same for piles of felled trees from previous ventures.

As with Acewood earlier that morning, Highway 51 provided some white noise in the background but otherwise the park was peaceful. It was an absolutely lovely day with the sun bathing us in its light and warming the day up into the 20s. 

When the burn pile was ready, the purifying flames were lit. We had a big fire that kept those of us working near it quite warm.

I had first met the organizer on the bus last year and was introduced to her boyfriend last month but the rest of the crew were new to me. Very friendly folks and they all seemed to enjoy themselves out in the woods for a couple hours. 

My physical therapy/strength training is paying off as I broke one of the saws. Oops. Sorry Dane County.

Towards the end of the day our organizer read another poem by Mary Oliver. I believe it was "When I Am Among The Trees".

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.


Six of us stayed to end and chatted amongst the long shadows before dousing the coals once they had burned down most of the way.
 
 
What a fantastic way to spend the solstice! My (gloved) hands touching trees, digging in the snow; the sun on my face, the intense heat of the flames. The air was brisk but the sun illuminated our work area and brightened our moods. I found the company to be wonderful as folks were in good cheer and happy to chat with the old duffer.
 
Our organizer is off to a farm outside of Mazomanie ere long where she will spend six months clearing more buckthorn and other invasive species in exchange for room and board. She is such a kind soul with a great love for nature. Her passion for trees is infectious and her enthusiasm for insects is unique amongst the non-entomologists in my experience. Her encounters with the sublime are to be envied. I shall miss her at these outings and now I have to go through some rigamarole in order to find another group doing this same work.
 
If only every solstice were spent in the woods like this one, with good company and full of mirth.