Greetings from a gray mountain town. The only reason it’s gray is because it’s raining.The buildings are a little dull. Lights radiate oddly; their halos offer assurance of something north of sorrow, but shy of hope.

In the wood and stone of a favorite haunt, the pint is just right. In here, people’s spirits are only slightly damp. There’s a midafternoon quiet, but somewhere deep down, people want to cheer up. They’re waiting for something.

We all are.

We brought our feelings in here with us, and we’re not quite sure where to leave them. Or how we can change them. We’d like to accommodate the underlying optimism of this folk music, but it’s so hard, this time of year.

There are a lot of paths converging.

A hard year is dragging behind us.