Name: The Blackout by Coneflower Basement Band in Cannonade
Duration: 2 min 47 s
Description: "Words are all I have, to take your heart away"...until you find yourself caught in...The Blackout.

Would-be sound tracks if only there were movies accompanying them.  Cannonade is the full tally of original instrumentals from 2006 to 2019.

Cannonade

Thinking that my garden was as disheveled as a Grateful Dead jam, I suddenly felt the urge to break into one.  Reminds me of Saturday night at Headwind House.  

Country Garden Jam

It was the eve of August 9th, in the year 2013.
The air was hanging heavy and the sky was lookin' mean
The clouds began a-swirlin like the smoke from God's cigar
And the windows of the heavens opened up on Waldo scar

A year before a wildfire raged and scoured the canyon clean
And weather folks warned Manitou of a dire and desperate scene
Up til that time there'd been flash floods that washed away some cars
But nothing like the eve of August 9th on Waldo's scar.

An inch or two of rain poured down on Colorado Springs
And up Ute Pass it roared like 50,000 eagles wings
When suddenly down Williams Canyon all the rain that fell
Came a raging flood and a wall of mud that could only come from hell. 

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man not to escape 
The canyon's deadly swale.

The comments said John Collin was the kindest man they knew
And the picture of him looked like he belonged in Manitou
His home was up in Teller where the forests clearly show
The devastation from the Hayman fire eleven years ago.

He made his living in cement, but gardens were his art
At Christmas he was Santa for the kids in Woodland Park
They said he was a teddy bear who was known to volunteer.
But August 9th he first became the worst of everybody's fears.

The canyon flood and the wall of mud took homes and stores and cars
And Manitou she took the wrath of Waldo Canyon's scars
Five thousand lives were changed that day, the town they swore to mend
But only poor John Collins was to meet his fated end.

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man not to escape
The canyon's deadly swale. 

The townsfolk and the cityfolk with shovels all in hand
Arrived next day in droves to sweep the mud off from the land
Brave Manitou and all her crew would not be taken down
From the deluge and the wall of mud that threatened to her drown. 

The cars were lined for miles backed up along Rt. 24
With shovels first and drinks for thirst the workers they did pour
They bent their back and gave their sweat and when the day was through
The spir't of life returned anew to the town of Manitou.

The restaurants and music shops, the churches and boutiques
Will open soon and the town will boom within the coming weeks
Life will return to normal to the town of Manitou.
And the name of poor John Collins will be known to but a few.

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man to perish in
The canyon's deadly swale.

Poor John Collins (The Ballad Of The Manitou Springs Floods of 2013)

It was June, and after the winter that refused to quit, we suddenly found ourselves in pre-summer triple digit heat again. What little escaped the sub-zero freezes and blizzards of April was blighted in drought and heat. Suddenly, like the return of a bad penny, an all-to-familiar plume of grayish-black smoke rose to once again diffuse in the air that chest-stinging smell Coloradans know so well. "O Lord, send rain!", the voices raised to Heaven. The drought had reached stage 4, and the city council bickered over whether to restrict watering California-style lawns that shouldn't even be here to either two or three days a week. Suddenly, on June 28th, the rains came. And July rolled in and the welcome southwestern monsoon with it. And the vegetation flourished, and the lawns brightened, and the local utilities breathed a sigh of relief. And August arrived and the rains still came. And came. And came. Until on August 9th, having dodged the bullet the better part of the summer, the rain became sinister, and the burn scars began to hunker down to the serious business of making good on their threats to punish the people who mistreated their forests. And the rains still came, and boulders and mud with them, and suddenly, people died, multiplied millions of dollars in damage to small businesses were lost to the flood caused by the flames. And the rain came, and came, and the monsoon lingered until early September, when she began her annual ebb south and west, and the dry heat returned to the Colorado front range. And the triple-digit heat of June returned again. And the monsoon looked back, and was not pleased...and decided to vanquish the summer heat once and for all, and with it every man whose home and fortunes lay in the mouth of the canyons. And still the rains came...only this time they mustered all the ferocity of an east coast hurricane. For seven days it rained, some rainfall amounts exceeding 20". Thousands, no tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of lives were upended, some were lost. The rain had won at last. When I saw the torrent that fell in eastern Colorado on Sunday, this was all I could do. And the rains still came.


And Still The Rains Came

Weekend almost over, a couple more workdays, then zoom!  Jeff boards the big white bird to SeaTac, and his honey's arms.

Happy 'Cause We'll Be Together

Cover - The Animals - House Of The Rising Sun

Recovery from addictions, whatever they be, require one in Heaven and two on Earth  To truly win the race, one must turn one's will and life over to the care of God.  That being done, God turns the race over to one coach at the starting gate, and one at the finish line.  It is vital to start right and finish well, and for that we must have one ever urging us away from whence we came, and the other reminding us of what awaits at the finish line. Though they be repeated over the course of hundreds and hundreds of miles, there are but 12 steps to this race,  and they must be dispatched in full measure, for the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.  It is the mind made intentional by the will turned over to the care of God that will finish in the end.  Thanks to Matt and Ken for their place in the marathon of recovery, and for my beautiful Pauline, who is the wind beneath my feet.  This is written for you all.

The Sponsor And His Sponsee

Melodia Per Una Notte Triste

"Words are all I have, to take your heart away"...until you find yourself caught in...The Blackout. 

The Blackout

Russell's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day‎

We Choose The Fear Of The Lord - Cover - Maranatha Singers

Bryce 2010

Written in 1976 upon the occasion of being called an anti-semite because I did not subscribe to the prevailing Christian dispensational eschatology concerning the nation of Israel. Yeah, I know...a lot of big theological words.  

The Blackout

Coneflower Basement Band

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