HOLD STEADY with the big picture of American identity and nature. This is one of the editorial imperatives of putting together Behold The Earth. What does hold steady mean? A viewer hears a spoken observation or thought from one of our interviewees, and then experiences an interpretive visual sequence w/music. We linger. We hold steady for a bit. Eventually, we move to the next observation. In this way, landscape by landscape, we have a chance to recognize evidence of our identities and heritage.

A much pared-down version of something similar can be seen in the 65 episodes of our television series Sunrise Earth. In that series, however, we present no thoughts, no music, and far fewer edits.

I wonder…are the moments of holding steady similar to the first observations within a well-conceived scientific experiment? Or the stillness of having one day a week where we can find rest and some connection to a power larger than our own? Cal DeWitt told me about his discipline of humming Psalms as a soundtrack for his daily experiences. More on that from him soon.

Taking time to notice matters. During nearly 20 years of producing structured narrative film and television, I’ve often found that I depart a shoot location with a fairly low level of confidence that I’ve actually been there. We race around too much. And at the end, amidst good-byes with support crew and guests, I find myself feeling “I would really like to come here someday.”

The fixed recordings of Sunrise Earth NEVER evoke this feeling however. We leave, confident we’ve been.

I have been struck by the many threads which Cal DeWitt weaves into the cloth of his Christian faith and his grounding as a scientist.  An example of this can be seen in the clip below, in which he sings the Doxology and then talks about the lyrics.

I’m not a Nature Worshipper.  And unlike Cal, I’m not a Christian and I don’t see my approach to plants and animals as a part of “praising God.” Nonetheless, I do strongly share Cal’s sense that the combination of music, beauty in nature, and a deep knowledge of how life works is extremely important to our well-being. He has tapped into something of vital importance here. In this sense -for me- the Doxology is an immensely beautiful song and Cal DeWitt is doing immensely significant work.

One of the musicians in our film, Tim Eriksen, introduced me to the work of D. H. Mansfield. In 1848, Mansfield published “The American Vocalist: Tunes, Anthems, Sentences and Hymns“. In it, he compiled some of the most popular spiritual songs of his day. The American Vocalist, according to Tim, is similar to the more widely known Sacred Harp, published in Georgia around the same time, because it’s a compilation of old, vernacular American music.  In the warmer weather, the music of both books would be sung outdoors in groups.

While browsing in a flea market, Tim happened upon a copy of The American Vocalist that had belonged to a woman named Amelia Clark. Born around the time it was first published, she had cherished her copy of the book, underlining and adding notes beside her favorites. Among Tim’s favorite annotations: “as sung by Amelia Clark, 1949, age 99, over and over!”

Mansfield was a preacher in a little town just up the road from us: Hope, Maine. And when it was time to find a place to film Tim for the movie, it seemed only appropriate to visit the tiny cemetery where Mansfield is buried. We did.  The grass and wildflowers were creeping around stones that stood and those that had fallen.  

More on Southern Roots from Dirk Powell soon.

The grass is working overtime these early days of spring here on the Maine coast.  In the spirit of what Cal DeWitt speaks about in the previous video blog, I wanted to also include a few lines from the great American poet Walt Whitman… and encouragement to read his poem “A child said, What is the Grass?” which I did this morning after breakfast.  

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we
may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe of the vegetation.

[written in the mid-1800's... poem continues... Whitman photo by Matthew Brady]

One weekend every spring, my family and I head to Montville, Maine for a weekend immersion in American fiddle music… at the Maine Fiddle Camp, run by Doug Protsik and originally founded by Greg Boardman.  Two years ago, a group of women in the Newell family entertained with a very moving a capella version of the tune Now is the Cool of the Day.  The song was written by Jean Ritchie.  To my ear and eye, it conjured up the image of a slow moving river, winding through an open and mature woodland.  No question, it belonged in this film!  With a little searching, we found such a place near us, at the Tanglewood 4H Camp and Learning Center.  A spectacular location (and an intriguing camp for connecting to the Maine outdoors).

We filmed Tim Eriksen sat riverside and worked up a version of this tune on his banjo, finishing it off with an echoing flourish.  Enjoy.