A house starts its life as a structure built out of wood and plaster, dreams and efforts. It usually only holds the promise of the everyday music of life to come. Soon comes the people who live and die there, the children born and raised there, the tune of the lawnmower and vacuum cleaner. A bit later begins the jig of daily life, the mournful air of struggle to make ends meet, the joyous reels of party, successes and celebration, and the dirges of trial and life's end. A house, in the fullness of time becomes a composition of the music of it's people. I can remember walking through my Grandparents house after they had passed. I had been asked to speak for the family when my Grandmother, the last of my Grandparents to finish this part of the journey, left us. I remember walking through the house alone, sitting in the rooms and listening for the music of Christmases and holidays, love and conflict, children playing, my own mother growing up. I remember hearing the music of the family in my mind, and I was able to sit down and capture that and play it back at the funeral.

The music of our house on Gun Lake has a very warm feel to it just now. It is the warm glow of camaraderie. It is the harmony brought about by the promise of lifelong friendship, just begun. It is a symphony of hope and appreciation for a wonderful village called Mudcat. You see, my friends, I have just put Dave and Pam (who is called PJ here) Swan on an airplane after having them as guests in my home for a week. This just a few days after having Bill Sables and Allan Clark here as guests. Dave and Pam are now, and forevermore, linked to this place by their presence. They have added a piece to the composition of this place that will sound better, like an old guitar, over the years. And they came to me from here in the Village of Mudcat. By their coming, we got to meet Val, Peter, Willie, Tony, Bonnie and the wonderful Fieldings. The gathering at Rick and Heather's home was profound for me. It was an awakening to the power of this community to create mighty friendships that only need the meeting to give form to the music of life. And they are now part of the rhythm of our humble home on Gun Lake. And I fervently hope that the rhythm of their home was enhanced as well. As I play back, in my mind, the music of my home, I will forever hear the joy of Bill Sables playing on his banjo and his button box for wee Ciara while she practice the heel and toe downstairs as I watched from the balcony upstairs. And the laughter from my daughter as Allen performed rope tricks with her on the deck outside.

Yep, the old place is sounding in wonderful tune right now. Oh sure, we will go out of tune at some point, but like all good musicians we will tune 'er up, and finish the show. Sure am glad I have all you to help me do it the right way.

All the best,

Big Mick