" I've been working all winter
I've been working on a fence
And the borders I'm creating
Never making any sense"
But I'm feeling pretty good
Despite all the tears
Yeah I'm feeling pretty good
for the first time in years"
Erik Koskinen on the truck radio. The August winds are still at it. Picking up buckets of dust in the Free State, blowing it across the plains and the Vaal River and dumping it on every weary soul it finds in its path. Early Spring in the country. Hot, dry days and icy evenings. New calves arriving now. Makes me nervous. Winter grazing is all but gone and the heat combined with the drought is an ever present reminder that we are far from being out of the woods. We need to be vigilant, look after the mothers and their calves. Protect them against the things mother nature will be throwing at them. The future of the farm is resting squarely on them making it through. The trusty old Winchester 30.30 is rattling on the passenger seat. I had noticed jackal in the valley. The sun is setting in a pale thin pink and my lips are dry, my Stetson dusty.
The mind wanders in times like these. Wide open horizon, the humming of the diesel and the transition from day into night. This is a hard life. Long days, battling the elements, the government, the criminal threat. You just never know. Farmers and Ranchers are being murdered brutally on their farms here in our beautiful country. Woman, workers and children are being tortured, humiliated and murdered, sometimes just for the entertainment of this evil sweeping across our country. It's not restricted to any region. South Africa is a violent place, no matter who you are or where you live. No matter what colour, creed or financial position you might be in, it will find you eventually.
My mind goes to Justin Townes Earle. He is gone. The son of Texas songwriter Steve Earle and a huge influence on me. It's tough when heroes pass on. You feel it in your bones. I drive past my grandfather's grave every time I head to the herd. Our little family cemetery, established as the final resting place of the Barnard clan in 1895. It's been two years and I still tear up. Every day the sadness of loss is giving way to the gratitude of having him borrowed to me for 34 years. I've got his eyes....and his heart, but I've got my father's compassion and my mother's grit. We learn, try to walk the line.
Our artistic landscape looks different these days and it's great to see the independent artists fight for their art and the connection to their audience. I would be insincere if said that I wasn't ecstatic about playing for a live audience again the other day. It was a magical breakfast gig close to the farm and after the masks and hand sanitizer routines were completed we shook each others hands and talked and told stories into the late afternoon. Remember The Vagabonds? Watch this space. We've got something brewing. Jaco and I are finishing up my full band EP and I'm already working on the monthly song release road I'll be taking in the future. Then there's my photoshoot by Nathan Smith #the_social_experiment_za that was a learning experience and I think a piece of art. I suppose it's good enough for folk rock! Nathan is on his way to becoming one of the greats in the photography world. Thank you for your continued support and love. I appreciate everyone who tuned in for the #thehardyardsessions episode and to everyone who donated something. The venues that survived are open for the most part and artists are sharing beautiful music again. Please support them and your favourite establishments.
A lot of people are without a job and many more will be losing their jobs in the next few months. Hardships, despair and pain will visit us all in some way or another. Forget about politics, forget about religion. Let's not believe the lies we are bombarded with on social media. Let us be good to each other and live a life of empathy and grace. Let us carry each other and lift each other up as a people. In the end we only have each other. And maybe, just maybe you'll notice the light green in the springtime trees and the tiny blossoms calling the new day.
JB