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From off in the distance I heard a horrible honking.

Clare, whose parents own the place, dropped in for the weekend along with BBS's main squeeze whose name is that of a month in which I was born. These shots are of them in our studio area, which, if I haven't mentioned already, is pretty spectacular. 

It seems this thing is missing, or it never existed. It is not somewhere but nowhere. Sorry. How about you go have a look for something else?

You're just not allowed to see this, whatever it is. How about you take a look at something else?

We tried to teach ourselves how to cast a line. We managed to get it a few feet out in the water. Eventually we lost the lure at the bottom of the lake. Sorry, Clare.

This curious and persistent robin made repeated attempts to lay down vocals with us.

After about 3 attempts at flying through the glass of the door, the robin gave up and looked for a gig elsewhere.

The power is still out at the Seneca lake cottage.

Things are beautiful here.

Friends and lovers,

I've taken a trip to the country. I'll be gone for all of May. I'm living in a cabin on Lake Seneca in upstate New York. My first-world luxury lifestyle affords me the opportunity to rough it for a while. I'll be writing music full-time for the month, talking to spirit animals and burning bushes, and hopefully coming down from these mountains with tracks of truth and righteousness.