I go to this lovely song so I can hold my ground against the sudden bullying of my mortality. I need only hear the first twang of the guitar and the singer’s face-front telling, that I am heartened: the choice of hope over despair. I walked on the beach at Truro, Massachusetts the other day, and sang myself into sweet peace.
I’ve included a link to what I think is the most beautiful version of it, performed by Gillian Welsh.
Summer Evening by Gillian Welch
Say this deal’s about over, and I guess that’s true,
Town used to have twelve stores, now we got two.
Big boys movin’ in, small farmers movin’ on.
The way may be goin’, but the life ain’t gone.
On a summer evenin’ when the corn’s head-high,
And there’s more lightnin’ bugs than stars in the sky.
Ah, you get the feelin’ things may be alright,
On a summer evenin’ before the dark of night.
Walked down by the river where my good fields are,
It’s a dusty old road, but there ain’t many cars.
Think about my wife, my daughter and my son,
If the good Lord’s still lookin’, the Lord’s will be done.
But on a summer evenin’ when the corn’s head-high,
And there’s more lightnin’ bugs than stars in the sky.
Ah, you get the feelin’ things may be alright,
On a summer evenin’ before the dark of night.