A video dedicated to Wicasta’s mother, Peggy Joyce Chaney, who passed away on December 30th, 2011.

may your soul be blessed
may your body rest
on the mountain where you were born
may your spirit soar
where there’s joy ever more
may you find your way in peace

and there’s no more harm
in your savior’s arms
see you fly away in the sky
did you hear the call of angels one and all
may you find your way peace

may you know you’re loved
may you shine above
on the mountain where you were born
may your spirit soar
there’s no pain anymore
may you find your way in peace

and there’s no more harm
in your savior’s arms
see you fly away in the sky
did you hear the call of angels one and all

may you find your way in peace
may you find your way in peace
may you find your way in peace

One of the first items on our agenda is to record our version of “Mark’s Song” by Eastmountainsouth. It’s a special song for us, especially given that it was played at the conclusion of Mama Peggy’s funeral. We’re going to record it as an homage to Wicasta’s mother. Partly because everyone who heard the song asked if it was Windhaven anyway. Make of that what you will.

Another of our projects is a purely aesthetic one. We’ve always wanted to take a crack at an acoustic version of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir”. As strange or as unlikely as that sounds, you’d be amazed at how well that chord progression lends itself to an acoustic 12-string guitar. More than anything, we want to see what we can do with it, whether or not we’re ever able to play it live. Victoria’s voice is uniquely suited for “Kashmir”. And Wicasta points out that “nobody ever plays the bass line right”. So we’ll see what we can do with that, and hope to have it posted relatively soon.

One of our most important and pressing projects is a re-mixing and re-mastering of our CD “When The Winds Blow”. The make-up of the band changed dramatically during the recording of the 2011 album. So much so that by the time we were finished with it we no longer felt like it represented who we were as a band. The new mixes will do that. What you can expect is a much simpler, stripped down version of “When The Winds Blow”, more akin to what we sound like live. If we’re happy with the outcome of the re-mixing, we’re going to release a new version of the album, which we’re going to call “When The Rains Fall”. The album calls for a new name, because while it’s same material, it’s been dramatically re-worked.

When we were going through our old Christmas tracks from 2010, we stumbled across a gem that had never been mixed down. “Breath Of Heaven” was shelved for various reasons. Wicasta wasn’t happy with his guitar parts. Victoria wasn’t happy with her vocal parts. In general, it seemed like there were other songs that worked better, and those are the ones we focused on. “Breath Of Heaven” fell to the wayside, and was largely forgotten, forever branded as a song that didn’t work.

What a difference a year and a little perspective can bring. While “Breath Of Heaven” still certainly has its imperfections, they now seem to us like human imperfections. Given the meaning behind the song, it’s oddly appropriate.

We hope you enjoy this song, our long lost child, and accept it as our Christmas gift to you and yours.

We originally recorded our Christmas CD as a gift for family and friends, but we were kind of late getting it finished last year. So nobody actually got it for Christmas. It was sort of a New Year’s present. We’re trying to do better this year.

We’ve learned a lot over the last year. We haven’t been as active musically as we thought were going to be, but the learning process has never stopped. It’s with that in mind that we’ve decided to re-mix and re-master last year’s CD and make it available for downloads this year. We’re stripping down a lot of the production and making it as unvarnished as possible. We’ve learned the hard way that “unvarnished” is how we sound best. Besides, whenever we get fancy and put too much Production on our music, we start feeling “uppity”. And if you know us, that ain’t us!

Anyway, we’ll be trotting out the newly re-mixed and re-mastered tracks between now and Christmas. We’ll eventually wind up with the same tracks we had last year. Only now they’ll sound a lot better. Stay tuned for information we’ll be posting on the tracks as they’re completed.

~ Wicasta and Victoria

Track Listing

1. Mary Did You Know
2. Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer
3. Frosty The Snowman
4. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer
5. Silent Night
6. You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch
7. Hallelujah
8. So This Is Christmas (War Is Over)

We haven’t forgotten about you, our lovelies. We’ve recently become involved in a new Internet radio station called Rhino On Air, and we’ve been busier than a one legged man in a butt kicken’ contest. The station is based out of the eclectic 600 block of Central Avenue in lovely downtown Saint Petersburg, Florida, and for the last six weeks or so, it’s pretty much eaten up all of our time, to the detriment of everything else.

Well, we’ve managed to pull back from those duties a bit and are beginning to refocus on Windhaven. One of the ways we’re going to do that is by making an executive decision and abusing Wicasta’s position as Indie Music Director of Programming at Rhino On Air.

Tune on tomorrow at 10 am to hear Windhaven on Wicasta’s radio show, Indie Frontline. You can listen in at; www.RhinoOnAir.com.

We hope you’ll like the changes we’re making. The new server is going to be much faster than the old one, and it’ll open up a lot of possibilities that we could never even imagine before. So here’s to hope and a brighter tomorrow. Or, as we’re fond of saying around here, “Ever upward!”

We’ll see you soon. And thanks ahead of time for your patience during our move.

We’ll be adding the download to our soon to be re-launched Windhaven Store, but for the moment you can download When The Winds Blow in mp3 format, with included cover artwork, from the links below. More information about the re-purposed songs will be posted soon.

Download Links

• Download .ZIP file - 40k
• Download .TAR file - 41k

“What are we doing up here again?” Hawkins asked.

Donnie Patrick shrugged. “Someone’s been breaking Tom’s locks. Kids, I imagine. Been happening a lot around here. Tom wanted some security.”

Hawkins shook his head. “It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Apparently not,” Donnie muttered, tracing the line-of-sight again and making sure the camera lined up perfectly on the gate.

“Is there a light on the gate or something?” Hawkins asked, waving off a fly and wishing he was somewhere else. “How’s it going to pick up anything at night? That’s not a night-vision camera, is it?”

“It’s a plain old remote camera,” Donnie said flatly. Hawkins was annoying him. But he always did. “Look, I don’t ask too many questions. The man wanted a camera, and is paying extra to get it today. So the man gets a camera.”

“So,” Ronald said, looking doubtfully at the set-up, and thumped the camera for emphasis, knocking it a little to the right, “how does this thing work, anyway? I mean, way out here with no electricity or anything.”

Patrick glared at Hawkins, let out a heavy sigh, and corrected the alignment of the camera, which his friend had just knocked awry. “It’s battery powered,” he explained. “It’s not on all the time. You turn it on remotely with a cell phone to activate it, then its streams a live feed to an Internet server. I put all this together myself,” he said proudly. His technical accomplishment made no impression upon the mortician, so he told him, “Tom can check out his gate whenever he likes, without the expense of a regular security system. It’s not as effective, but you use what you can afford, right? It’s not much use here, if you ask me. I put this together so people can call home and look around. It’s not meant as a full blown security system. I mean, how are you going to know when kids are screwing around with your gate? Motion sensors and a camera mounted at the gate would’ve made more sense.” He shrugged again. “What Tom wants, Tom gets. As long as I get paid, it’s all the same to me.”

The mortician nodded. “What about that, Donnie? You get paid yet?”

Donnie Patrick stood up straight and looked at his friend. “No. Not yet. But Tom always pays his bills.” He smiled. “Hey, look, if you’re worried about the funeral…”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hawkins said quickly. “I told Tom to pay me when he could, and they’ve paid some on it every month. Besides, Tom says they’ll pay it out soon. Insurance settlement or something. I just… I don’t know.” He pursed his lips and looked out over the horizon. “With all the troubles they’re having, it seems like a strange expense. That’s all I’m saying. But I guess Tom’s been pretty strange lately himself. Well… stranger than usual, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Donnie asked. “His son’s been in the ground, what, a couple of months? And I hear they might lose the farm. That’d make anybody a little crazy.”

Ronald Hawkins nodded and smiled. He reached to thump the camera again, just for meanness, but was intercepted by his friend. He chuckled. “I wasn’t gonna…”

“No. You weren’t.” The computer tech smiled and gave his friend a mock glare.

“Well, go ahead and get this done. We’re running out of daylight.”

“It wouldn’t help you, anyway. I can beat you in the dark.”

“Please,” groaned Hawkins. “You’re the worst golfer in Will County.”

“Second worst. Behind you.”

Donnie checked the alignment on the camera one more time, then pulled out his cell phone and sent a text message to a specific number that called up the Internet server back at his shop. Seconds later a red light on the camera winked on. It was now recording. He dialed another number and checked to make sure the feed was working. After a few taps on his smart-phone, a live image of Tom Freeman’s front gate popped up on the display. He looked at Ronald Hawkins and beamed proudly, but his smile faded. Hawkins was staring down at the gate. Donnie Patrick’s technical skill would get no appreciation or praise. Instead, he followed Hawkins’ stare and realized that a car had pulled up in front of the gate. He thought maybe he had just caught Tom Freeman’s vandals, but he recognized the two young girls who got out of the car. He glanced down at the video feed on his cell phone and watched Tom’s teen-aged daughters slam the car door behind them, hop over the short gate

and start the long march up the dirt driveway. As they left the camera frame, Donnie tapped to disconnect from the feed, then sent another text message to deactivate the camera. When the red light went off, he switched the camera to standby mode and turned to face Ronald Hawkins.

“Those girls are growing like weeds,” he said.

“They sure are.”

“So,” he quickly asked his friend, now that his work was done, “you ready to be soundly embarrassed?”

Ronald Hawkins shrugged. A wry smile spread across his face. “I guess I am. Does that mean you found somebody to take your place? That’s the only way I can lose.”

“Oh, that’s hilarious,” Donnie said with a grin.

“I know. My wit knows no bounds. I kill me sometimes.”

Donnie Patrick grinned, and set off down the back side of the hill toward his pickup truck. “One can only hope,” he grumbled dramatically.
“What’d you say?” Hawkins asked behind.

“Nothing!” Patrick said loudly and chuckled.

Marnie and Ariele Freeman were in a bad mood, but the long walk up the dirt driveway to the house took much of the fire out of them. When they finally reached the house, Marnie, the oldest, sat down on the porch steps to catch her breath. She’d set a good pace for them in her anger. Her younger sister had barely kept up. They were both winded, despite being fit from farm work. A few weeks watching TV shows and movies in a house full of smokers always took awhile to get over. It was easy to get soft. They both felt dirty, smelled of smoke and wanted a bath.

“Should we tell Mom and Dad?” Ariele asked, taking a seat beside her sister.

Marnie shook her head. “Are you crazy? They have enough to worry about as it is. Let’s not add to it.”

Ariele insisted, “They should know.”

“Know what? Our family’s a bunch of rednecks? Uncle Hank’s still mad Daddy wouldn’t lie for him when he was arrested?” She smiled at her sister. “It’s over and done with, Ari. It’s not Daddy’s fault Hank went to prison, whatever they might say. And don’t you dare say anything about it. Momma’s going to be mad enough as it is that we caused a fuss. Just let it go.”

Ariele nodded thoughtfully. She stared at the ground for a moment, then looked out over the waving cornfields. She shook her head and sighed. “It just makes me mad.”

Marnie patted her sister’s hand. “Me, too. But you know how they are. They’re jealous we have a little something. That’s the way it always is. People who mooch off the government hate those who work for a living. It makes them feel better about themselves. That’s all it is.”

“We don’t think we’re better than them. Why would they say that?”

“That’s just the way they think, Ari. Anybody with a nice car is an asshole. People with regular jobs are yuppies. Uncle Hank and all them are just trash. They only feel good if they’re tearing everybody else down. And if they can’t get money out of you, they think you’re hording a pot of gold or something and just won’t share it with them. That’s the way they are. You’re only family when they can get something out of you. To Hell with that. And to Hell with them.”

Ariele shrugged. “I guess,” she sighed. None of it seemed as important as it had a few minutes earlier. “I’m tired, Marnie. Let’s just go inside.”

Marnie nodded and smiled. She stood up and pulled her sister to her feet. The two started for the front door, but had barely stepped across the porch and reached for the screen door when the front door opened. Aimee Freeman looked poked her head around the door and looked out through the screen at her daughters. She smiled.

“Hey, Mama,” the girls said together.

“I thought I heard voices out here,” Aimee said. “I just got off the phone with Jean,” she chuckled, opening the screen for the girls. “I hear there were fireworks?”

Marnie sighed and nodded, then held up her hand. “You know how they are, Momma,” she said quickly. “We…”

“We didn’t mean to…” Ariele started.

Aimee waved them off. “It’s okay, girls,” she said. “Just… don’t say anything to your father. He has enough to worry about.”

“Okay, Mama,” Ariele quickly agreed.

“Alright,” Marnie said, happy to be off the hook. It didn’t always turn out so well for them when they’d had words with the relatives. Which was nearly every time.

Aimee Freeman turned and walked back through the house to the kitchen with her daughters in tow. “I didn’t expect you home so soon,” she told them. “I’ve started dinner, but it’ll be awhile. Are you hungry?”

“We can wait,” Marnie said.

Ariele, who was starving, glared at her sister. She was poked in the ribs for her insolence. Marnie stepped ahead of her to avoid retribution, and together they wandered into the kitchen, where they sat down at the table while their mother attended to pots on the stove. It all smelled wonderful. Butter beans. Biscuits. Stewed potatoes. No meat. But they hadn’t had meat in awhile. Ariele attempted to kick her sister to avenge the poke in the hallway, but missed and hit the table leg instead. The table made a loud thump, which their mother turned to inspect.

“Butter beans again?” Ariele playfully complained to redirect the attention.

“Butter beans again,” Aimee Freeman declared without apology and nodded. She smiled at her girls and went back to stirring the beans. It was good to have them home again. She loved her husband, but she had been lonely without her girls. She wouldn’t have them know it for the world, but they were her life. “You both look thinner.”

“Thinner?” Marnie pondered. “Well, nobody cooks like you, Momma.”

“What do they eat over there?” Aimee asked their daughters. “Squirrels? Possum?” She smiled wickedly. “I know! Raccoon! You both look more raccoon-like. Especially you, Ariele.”

“I would never eat a raccoon,” Ariele stated flatly with a stricken look upon her troubled young face.

Marnie burst into laughter, and was soon joined, grudgingly, by Ariele. Their mother covered her mouth and tried not to laugh, but found herself with the giggles. The three of them found it impossible to stop laughing, and made such a racket that they soon heard a man’s heavy footsteps wandering across the floor upstairs.

“We’ve woken your father,” Aimee announced, and triggered another round of giggles. “Okay,” she said, forcing herself to stop laughing, “not a word about raccoons.”

The three were lost to the laughter again after that, and were still giggling when Tom Freeman came down the stairs and into the kitchen. He walked in smiling.

“Hello, my lovelies,” he said to his daughters, and gave them both a kiss upon the forehead. “It’s great to see you in good spirits.”

The girls each hugged their father. He wandered over to his wife and hugged her, kissed her softly on the cheek. Then he kissed her again. And once more.

“Get a room,” Marnie groaned.

Tom Freemen returned to the table and took a seat. “I have no shame,” he declared to his daughters, “I am a man in love.” The girls rolled their eyes in unison. Tom simply smiled. “So. How was your visit?”

The girls glanced at their mother, who gave them a warning glance behind their father’s back. They both shrugged and made no mention of raccoons. Or their Uncle Hank’s rants about their father.

“It was fine,” Marnie said, with no real conviction.

“We learned dozens of new curse words,” Ariele joked.

Tom Freeman pretended to be shocked, but said, “I imagine more likely you taught a few. You both sound more like sailors every day.”

“Not me,” Ariele said. “I only know the ones Marnie teaches me…”

“You do not…” protested Marnie.

“… but she keeps the best ones for herself.”

Marnie attempted to punch her sister on the arm but was intercepted by her father. Instead she looked at her father with mock umbrage.

“I can’t defend myself?” she asked him.

“Take it to court,” Tom Freeman said with a grin.

This ignited a spirited, if good natured, debate about the relative merits of the weight of law versus the threat of impending bodily harm, just punishment in different corners of the world and, to Tom Freeman’s confusion, a discussion about which was the worse thief, a crows or a raccoon. The debate raged on for so long that they were all quite surprised when Aimee Freeman began setting plates in front of them. Marnie stood up to help her mother, and was stopped by her father, who grabbed her hand. He took Ariele’s hand, too. He smiled warmly at both of his girls, looking back and forth between them.

“I love my crazy girls,” he said. “I’m going to miss these moments.”

Aimee Freeman sat a bowl of butter beans on the table and looked at her husband with a grin. “Going somewhere, Tom?”

Tom Freeman laughed, but his wife did not miss the shadow that flittered across his face. He shrugged.

“They’re going to be grown and married before we know it,” Tom said, squeezing his daughters’ hands before letting them slip away. “Who’ll entertain me when they’re off raising families of their own?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aimee said, adding a pot of stewed potatoes to the table. “I suppose I’ll have to see what I can manage.”

Tom grinned. “Well… I guess you’ll do.”

Aimee pinched her husband, and crossed the kitchen to take the biscuits out of the oven. Marnie gathered up silverware and glasses. Ariele watched her father for a long moment, with nearly every expression her mother possessed washing across her young face. Tom matched her gaze and simply stared at his beautiful young daughter. She would be a woman soon and would have no more use for old men.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Ariele asked her father.

Tom sputtered, a little upended by his daughter’s directness. “Why, nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Why do ask that?”

“I don’t know,” she said and smiled. “I worry about you, Daddy.”

Tom Freeman marveled at his youngest daughter. What a wonder she was. Marnie was the oldest and most stable. But Ariele rarely missed a thing. He smiled warmly, but was relieved when Ariele decided to let it go. She rose from her chair and kissed him on the cheek, then went to help her sister and mother finish setting the table. None of the women noticed when Tom Freeman’s pocket suddenly buzzed.

Tom dug out his cell phone and looked down at the screen. A text message had come in from Donnie Patrick. It contained all the information Tom needed to activate and access his new security system, such as it was, and more than a few too many tips on how to make the best use of it. His heart sank as he looked over the message. He’d almost managed to forget a few things, somewhere amid a wonderful church service, an unexpected romp with his wife and long overdue silliness with the girls. His spirit had been light for the first time in a very long time. But with that one message, dark shadows came flooding back into Tom Freeman’s soul. He shrank in on himself and seemed visibly smaller when his three girls returned to the table. He turned off his cell phone as they approached and put it back in his pocket, and smiled warmly to Aimee, Marnie and Ariele. They each took turns staring back at him and wondering what had happened, but he smiled serenely at them.

Tom Freeman said, simply, “I love you all.”

← Part 2 | To Be Continued…