Blue Ridge Mountain Blues

Listen while you read:  Blue Ridge Rangers (John Fogerty)

When I was young and in my prime
I left my home in Caroline
Now all I do is sit and pine
For all those folks I left behind

I got the Blue Ridge Mountain blues
And I sat right here to say
"My grip is packed to travel
And I'm back to ramble
To my Blue Ridge far away"

I'm going to stay right by my Pa
I'm going to do right by my Ma
I'll hang around the cabin door
No work or worry anymore

I got the Blue Ridge Mountain blues
Going to see my old oak tree
Gonna hunt the possum
Where the corn cob blossom
In my Blue Ridge far away -- woo!

I see a haze of snowy white
I see a window of light
I seem to hear them both sigh
"Where is my wanderin' boy tonight?"

I got the Blue Ridge Mountain blues
And I stay right here to say
Every day I'm countin'
Till I climb that mountain
In my Blue Ridge far away"

~  Traditional (John Fogerty version)

In 1973, a year after Creedence Clearwater Revival broke up, John Fogerty put out his first studio album . . . under the name Blue Ridge Rangers. The Blue Ridge Rangers was basically one man: John Fogerty. "Blue Ridge Mountain Blues" is Fogerty's version of a traditional folk song, and he delivers it with spirit and a homegrown confidence.

Yesterday, we drove back toward the Blue Ridge Mountains in horrendous rain, so our view of the spectacular scenery was severely limited. Trying to get to our lodging in nearby Hendersonville was not easy, as roads were flooded and/or closed off to traffic. We were certainly experiencing the Blue Ridge Mountain Blues!

But this morning we woke up to another gloriously beautiful day, so we picked up the Blue Ridge Parkway and headed north to Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi. There were pockets of valleys and mountainsides on the way up that definitely qualified as peak foliage, or what I like to call "bowls of Trix cereal." It was cold at the summit of Mount Mitchell, about 40 degrees, and I remembered why I am heading south for the winter. The geese flying overhead punctuated my thoughts for me. Our search for fall foliage satisfied, we drove south on the parkway and headed toward our next stop, Clayton GA.

While I am not one to hang around the cabin door, I do appreciate a sentimentality for the place we each call home. My piece of land in New Jersey will always be home to me, but meanwhile, there is more wanderin' to be done, the kind that takes me to mountains and canyons and waterfalls and forests and deserts and beaches. It's a beautiful planet.