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Jazz Brunch Sundays at the Nutty Brown Cafe

The Nutty Brown Cafe and Amphitheatre is one of those places I’ve intended to go but never quite made it to until the Sunday Jazz Brunch caught my eye. Heading West on Hwy 71/290 just before Dripping Springs, it’s a classic roadhouse cafe with a great patio under the oaks and friendly servers dishing up TXAmerican fare.
Cowboys and cowgirls are welcome, but I didn’t see any dogs on the patio.

The brunch was notable for the variety of generally tasty dishes, with migas and fresh fruit among my favorites.  Waffles were available upon request, french toast, bacon, sausage, hash browns and a chorizo bake comprised the breakfast offerings while lunch included smoked bbq chicken, potato salad, stuffed pork chops with apple glaze, beef medallions and tilapia, both over rice.  The pecan cobbler was also quite good.

 

 

 

Bonus points for having a macaw in a decent sized cage.  He or she was fairly responsive and seems to like women and children.

It was very pleasant just sitting outside watching the clouds roll by with a nice breeze keeping things cool.  Bill enjoyed the

variety of foods he wouldn’t normally cook for himself, which is probably a good thing given our suspicions about the overall calorie count.  The ingredients were fresh and nicely prepared and it’s possible to manage temptation and get your money’s worth at $13.00 per person.  The band provided a nice compliment to the relaxed morning’s dining.  I’ll be happy to go out with a few friends for another outing.  The brunch is served from 10am until 2pm, so even in the summer, the patio should be cool enough to enjoy  in the mornings and evenings.

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Saturday SOLA Saunter

On my way to Ladybird Lake I couldn’t help noticing a smorgasbord of visual art dotting South Lamar.  This photo essay is certainly an advertisement for the South Austin Museum of Popular Culture and bridges new and “classic” Austin. Next time I’ll look inside.  I’m not sure West or North Austin can compete with South and East, but I’ll take my camera out someday and see.

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Water and Cypress Tree Meditations

Texas cypress are so enchanting, I half expect to see a unicorn step out from behind one someday. Even in winter, bald cypress exude an ancient, mysterious grace. Click on thumbnails to enlarge the photos and enjoy the soundtrack on videos below.

Krause Spings has a small but impressive stand of cypress. Though the dragon flies are no larger than your fingers, that doesn’t diminish the primeval feel of the landscape.

Krause Spring Cypress stand

Winter Cypress on FM 1826
Even winter cypress preside majestically over spring fed creeks, shown here off FM 1826 past the Salt Lick. Spanish moss graces the trees on the Medina River
Cypress by the Medina River hung with Spanish Moss
Standing in clear, spring fed creeks or by river’s edge, water is the spiritual advisor to Cypress. For your relaxation, a clip of water flowing through a cypress forest girdling a small elbow of the Medina River.

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A is Red – Kundalini Jazz, a fine audio massage

A is Red playing Monday nights at the Continental Club Gallery

Late to the party, I only recently heard about A is Red, drummer Don Harvey’s new collaboration with: Glenn Fukunaga–bass, Stefano Intelisano–Keyboards, Kullen Fuchs-Vibes, trumpet, Kevin Flatt–Trumpet, and Adam Sultan-Guitar. The Continental Club Gallery is the upstairs companion to the Continental Club with a nice wall of windows overlooking downtown Austin. It was a small space for a big sound, rolling over the audience in thunderous aural waves, courtesy of A is Red. Their music is described variously as jazz, fusion, world and soul but given its sensual impact and bouts of restrained cacophony, I’ll call it Kundalini jazz.  Great mind/body sensations: serpentine textures created by unexpected pairings of trumpet, guitar, electric piano and vibes buoyed by melodic bass and drum syncopation energized and awakened attentive fans. I was held suspended like a bee in amber by music flowing around me like sweet, hard candy.  In the end I moseyed home, uplifted and refreshed by a group of fine musicians who will continue to dazzle and surprise on Monday nights at the Continental Club Gallery. I’d like to see them at the Elephant Room in summer, underground in another cool cave on Congress and look forward in anticipation to new compositions from Harvey et al.

Preview or download songs from A Dance in Red:

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Celebrating the Space in Between

This Easter Sunday brings themes of crucifixion and resurrection, the birth of Spring and the death of Winter. The Passion Play features the human drama through the life of Christ, the humane being who was sacrificed on the pillar of our inhumanity. Religion often paints the world in black and white, good and evil, dark and light in pageantry rich with color, full of drama. It is the life of Spirit that demands pomp, trumpets, thunder and lightening. Or is it? For every resurrection there is a death, but what about the space in between?

As gestation precedes birth, resurrection requires a period of introversion, a time to listen and to feel the gentle approach of the wholly spirit. Wholeness, integration and peace reflect the indwelling presence of grace, God’s love. Without calming our aroused and overburdened senses, we lose that moment of suspension, “best just before” when anticipation evaporates in the fullness of being. Here and nowhere else, no past, no future, recognizing a divine connection within and outside of ourselves.

How often do we take the time to find this space, always present in the background of our lives? If we remove all the layers of thought that obscure this still point of eternal emergence, the beginning of the beginning, who remains? Can we re-cognize the humane being, God’s flame residing in each of us? I am allowing myself to let go of who/what/where I think God is. I don’t know but I feel the support of a spirit that integrates me, that brings me comfort and guides me to love. In the space between the thoughts, the chores and the pleasures of daily life, spirit blows like a gentle wind. Bringing us ever closer to the moment in which we embrace ourselves in loving kindness and offer the same to others. May peace have her way with us some day.

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East(er) Austin Lake and Art stroll

Art blooms on walls, in the river and in the streets of East Austin this Easter.

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The Nelson-Atkins Art Museum in Kansas City

The Nelson-Atkins Art Museum in Kansas, City, Missouri takes an elegant approach to showcasing its collection. We skipped the Impressionists exhibit in favor of the American Indian, Modern and Contemporary, the Chinese and Japanese art and the Photography collections.  Here is a glimpse of what they have to offer.

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Kansas: no place like home or home is where your heart is?

Traveling back to my birthplace, Junction City, Kansas was a pilgrimage I considered off and on over the years.  There was Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz on the one hand and a bit of Lena Lovich on the other. After all, I was conceived in Vienna, Austria, shipped overseas in utero, born 2 months later in Kansas then back to Europe at 6 tender months, not to return until the end of this, my golden year. Bill, a fan of Midwestern Regionalist Art, and I also scheduled a hike at the Konza Prairie Biological Field Station for a closer look at the Flint Hills.

The first leg of our 2.5 hour Kansas trek was lovely; rolling hills and horse farms, a little of the magic of Grant Woods’ Young Corn. When we stopped at Grandma Hoerner’s Organic Food Store, I was gratified to find a portrait of Auntie Em hanging in the folksy warehouse shop. A few jars of special sauces later we resumed our journey West.

Then came Topeka. To be fair, there were controlled burns devouring the hills in every direction. Smoke twisted off the horizon, casting a pall over much of the land. Topeka boasted train tracks, stock yards and a kind of dark malaise. Like the oil fields we passed through in Wyoming, this was not a happy place. I didn’t shake the heaviness until we were 60 miles past. The question of Junction City loomed large in my mind, but proved to be the epitome of anywhere USA. I was really disappointed, not noticing anything quaint or comely about the town. Finally, I pulled over to get a shot of a pleasant building, which was fortuitous because it led us to Bessie’s Buy Gone Antiques. Don, the gregarious owner of the store radiated energy and a warmth that made me feel welcome in my “home” town. Within the span of 20 minutes he told us we were baby Gods, (able to create and destroy but not yet wise enough to create heaven on earth) proclaiming how great life is while giving us a deal on a photo of black leather Elvis and a strand of pearls, my nod to Eisenhower America. Bill calls him Don Miguel, from the 4 Agreements; glad to have found a Bodhisattva along the way. Don’s motto:

The Konza Tall Grass Prairie preserve was so windy I thought I could fly. The headwind was a bit battering, but there were glimpses of the rolling, furry hide of mother earth that I found so appealing in Nebraska. As we walked through the woods, there was a palpable feeling of blood in the land. My impression was of the civil war era but the American Indians battled at least as long and hard here. In the two pictures of the woods in which this battle weary feeling was strongest an odd glow appears. I can’t explain it but it does give me pause. When I started imagining writing about this part of the trip, my overall feeling was much bleaker, it was so darkened by this wounded land. As you can see in the images below, the prairie is very light, a kingdom of grass and sky, whipped by tireless gusts of wind.

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First Friday in Kansas City

Kansas City has a vibrant art and music scene, with many fine murals and a good combination of traditional and imaginative architecture. Although we didn’t find the perfect barbecue, we had a few good meals and listened to a rockin’ zydeco band, Blue Orleans at BB’s Lawnside and Bar B Que. I didn’t bring my camera to the club but the joint was jumping and I would certainly go back again. We stayed at the Raphael Hotel, a grand dame from the 1920’s and enjoyed walking around the Crossroads before going out to the Power and Light district downtown for First Friday. There were a few too many cartoon character sculptures for my taste but all in all, good times. So for now, Goodbye to Kansas City, New York City here we come.