Staying Fly
The Good Folk March Playlist.
Hello all,
First, a deep and sincere apology for our absence the last few years. In the midst of finalizing the draft of my M.A. thesis, my computer decided to suddenly give out on me, which then led to a good three weeks without a reliable laptop or tech. All is well now, and I am pleased to report that I am in the final stages of thesis writing, which means that soon there will be ample time to return to writing here, and I hope to share much of the research I have been working on (and other updates related to my academic work in environmental studies and contemporary Southern culture) soon. In the meantime, I’m sharing here the Good Folk March playlist, which I have had on repeat all morning as I edit citations.
I spent this past weekend out in the woods as T ran his first trail marathon, and I watched as, over the course of four hours, the seasons shifted before my eyes: the grey sky that had poured rain all night before clearing into bright blue, the sun pouring through the branches. We drove along the highway at sunset and it felt late, the day long. Last night we laid out with beers in the grass along the river until the sun set, our shoulders bare, the air warm. I am emerging into this Monday sunburned and content and feeling ready for the shift of winter into spring. This playlist is my attempt to capture that feeling of transition—the manic energy of early spring, the nostalgia of losing something. I have learned that so much of life is about navigating those spaces of change. This weekend was a reminder to me of how lucky I am to have found such a lovely and supportive space to do this in, and how grateful I am to call this place home. After so long searching for roots and expecting them to appear, I think I am finally beginning to understand that roots are seeded and grown long before they begin to sprout out of the earth.
