Carolina Carolina rivers flow When Carolina rivers grow Everybody’s gonna know Two North Carolina songsters, David Childers & Malcolm Holcombe, have both been guiding stars for me, since moving out to these Appalachian regions, whether directly or indirectly. I called this song, September’s Rain, after a lyric from one of my favourite David Childers’ songs, Blueberries. There’s also a musical nod to Malcolm Holcombe’s Dressed In White, a song, I actually first heard sung, by David Childers. Malcolm is some sort of Appalachian Shaman, & David is some sort of guardian angel. Not forgetting our Stevie Tombstone, we’re two peas from the same pod, him wiser than I.. Under my foot, I’m using some wood I got from a pile of storm debris left in the River Arts District in Asheville. With Porchboard’s blessing, I basically added it to their design, as a custom foot rest. I can’t imagine the sheer devastation some people are experiencing, I’m not gonna pretend that I do. We’re all still in shock. Thanks for all everyone has done to help. We’ve really seen humanity shine at times, through community & sharing. There’s still so much to do. This will take years, & lots will never be the same again. Thanks for reading this & I look forward to singing it with you 🙏🏔️☘️
1st Verse “Swannanoa Swannanoa I just can’t settle down” Said the river to the town “& if I take you with me tomorrow we’ll be golden brown Dense, in the low Dustbowl sun on 70 Bearing down Forever blowin’ around..” We live in Black Mountain in North Carolina, just after Swannanoa Gap, as ye come up over I-40, in from the east. I guess it may be considered Swannanoa Valley, but where the Swannanoa River, runs through the actual town of Swannanoa, much incomprehensible damage was done by the recent storms. Old 70 is the road I take, rather than the interstate. Closer to the town of Swannanoa, old 70 was blocked off, for some time, on account of the mud, trees, debris, power lines, vehicles & structures strewn across it, which the wind & water had dragged about the place. There wasn’t much communication at the time, even though the town is just at the other end of the road, but we had heard the rumours. Nothing could prepare us for what we eventually did see. We’re still in shock. One day, I was donating gas down there, as it wasn’t readily available at the time. As I turned a corner, I got too close to the edge of a collapsed road, where a truck was already overturned. I pulled over, the first chance I could, for to gather myself. I remember the sun was on me, low & strong, & the air was thick with brown dust. Once the mud & flood water started to dry out, it turned to thick dust in the air, & nobody really knew how much pollution they might’ve been breathing in. There was so much noise & commotion that day, but for a moment, things fell silent, as I squinted through the dust at the sun, through the gaps of my fingers, with my face in my hands. It seemed like a dustbowl era. I realised that I didn’t want to be a part of the problem, so I didn’t go back down there, for some time afterwards.
2nd Verse The Old Drovers’ Road 27 feet below & those before, those long ago All drawn to the broad north flow Hear the hammer in the river Rings like silver, shines like gold All through the night Louder than lies & truths long mistold Of the tunnels & the railroad The French Broad River is said to be one of the oldest rivers in the world. It flows north. I travelled the river, extensively, before the storms hit. From Courthouse Falls, on the side of the Devil’s Courthouse, through towns like Rosman, Marshall, Hot Springs & such. The river is said to be considerably older than trees. All the life which has been drawn from & drawn to that river, all the way up to the indigenous & Native peoples, the drovers’ roads, & us. I recommend, ‘The French Broad’, a book by Wilma Dykeman, it’s a masterpiece on the life of the river & the history of the people of these regions. I often thought about the Great Flood of 1916, as I travelled the river. Back in September of 2024, regions along the French Broad, measured flooding, at over 27 feet, slightly higher than 1916’s records. We live above the folk famed Swannanoa Tunnel, which has intrigued me deeply. I’ve been in the tunnel, it’s very ghostly in there. If you know the song of the same name, you may have heard the verse, “take this hammer, throw it in the water, still rings on baby, still shines on..”, which has taken on a multitude of meanings for me now. But originally, the lyric was sung from the perspective of the convict workers, who built the railroad & its tunnels. At the time, black men & woman were arrested for ‘crimes’ such as jaywalking, or being unemployed, to then be forced to work at gun point, many dying in the process. The incarcerated workers were even made to pull the Salisbury train, up the mountain, by hand, in order to make deadlines, to give the press the impression that the job had been achieved by a certain date. The tunnel has been here since 1879. Although the tunnel is currently experiencing relative quiet, for a change, much of the railroads have been decimated, & some sections will likely never be repaired to function again. The Swannanoa Tunnel supposedly being one such section.
3rd Verse Carolina Carolina rivers flow When Carolina rivers grow Everybody’s gonna know Even the sky looks deeper now The only light, its glow So much not known Hopin’ the dams will hold & won’t let go Only voices on the radio We love the rivers here. They each have their own personality. That’s why I had the river talk to the town, in the first verse, ‘cause the river was overwhelmed as well. The Natives have “Long Person” in their beliefs, with head in the mountains & feet in the sea, & all the tributaries & such, are Long Person’s chattering children. I guess, maybe much like Old Man Mississippi River, where the French Broad’s waters eventually make their way. Looking through my photographs here, I have one of a Black Mountain town square white board, from September 28th, which read: “Curfew 7pm-7am / I-40 East & West past Asheville closed / I-26 North closed / I-26 South OK / No gas locally / No food & water yet / Power & Water restoration unknown / Shelters Open at AB Tech / & a number to call for missing persons.” Phone service was little or none. I have a small battery powered vintage Westinghouse radio, which was a gift from my wife. I had it on, every day & night. It was my main source of info. A makeshift radio station was created, using a Starlink, & a generator powered by propane. For a lot of people, it was the only voice they woulda heard, for days, if they were lucky enough to have even had a battery powered radio. Still hard to fathom some of the info & call ins I listened to on there. The radio was asking people, if they could, to leave a voice message on their own phones, to give a short message to say that they were safe, along with the time & date of when they left their message. Because phone service was mostly out, if someone tried to call a friend or relative, then at least they would have an update, through their voice message, when their call couldn’t get through. There was no music on the radio, only voices. One late night, the radio was reporting that the Bee Tree Dam was gonna breach, & that folks in its path, should evacuate immediately. But it was late at night. There was little or no phone service. My wife & I felt panicked & tried to text folks, feeling like it was futile. Thankfully, it turned out to be a false alarm. That was harrowing. Without any electric lights on, the night skies were so dense with stars, that the sky itself also seemed to deepen, much like the waters did.
Carolina
Carolina rivers flow
When Carolina rivers grow
Everybody’s gonna know
Two North Carolina songsters, David Childers & Malcolm Holcombe, have both been guiding stars for me, since moving out to these Appalachian regions, whether directly or indirectly. I called this song, September’s Rain, after a lyric from one of my favourite David Childers’ songs, Blueberries. There’s also a musical nod to Malcolm Holcombe’s Dressed In White, a song, I actually first heard sung, by David Childers. Malcolm is some sort
of Appalachian Shaman, & David is some sort of guardian angel. Not forgetting our Stevie Tombstone, we’re two peas from the same pod, him wiser than I..
Under my foot, I’m using some wood I got from a pile of storm debris left in the River Arts District in Asheville. With Porchboard’s blessing, I basically added it to their design, as a custom foot rest.
I can’t imagine the sheer devastation some people are experiencing, I’m not gonna pretend that I do. We’re all still in shock. Thanks for all everyone has done to help. We’ve really seen humanity shine at times, through community & sharing. There’s still so much to do. This will take years, & lots will never be the same again. Thanks for reading this & I look forward to singing it with you 🙏🏔️☘️
1st Verse
“Swannanoa
Swannanoa
I just can’t settle down”
Said the river to the town
“& if I take you with me
tomorrow we’ll be golden brown
Dense, in the low
Dustbowl sun on 70
Bearing down
Forever blowin’ around..”
We live in Black Mountain in North Carolina, just after Swannanoa Gap, as ye come up over I-40, in from the east. I guess it may be considered Swannanoa Valley, but where the Swannanoa River, runs through the actual town of Swannanoa, much incomprehensible damage was done by the recent storms. Old 70 is the road I take, rather than the interstate. Closer to the town of Swannanoa, old 70 was blocked off, for some time, on account of the mud, trees, debris, power lines, vehicles & structures strewn across it, which the wind & water had dragged about the place. There wasn’t much communication at the time, even though the town is just at the other end of the road, but we had heard the rumours. Nothing could prepare us for what we eventually did see. We’re still in shock. One day, I was donating gas down there, as it wasn’t readily available at the time. As I turned a corner, I got too close to the edge of a collapsed road, where a truck was already overturned. I pulled over, the first chance I could, for to gather myself. I remember the sun was on me, low & strong, & the air was thick with brown dust. Once the mud & flood water started to dry out, it turned to thick dust in the air, & nobody really knew how much pollution they might’ve been breathing in. There was so much noise & commotion that day, but for a moment, things fell silent, as I squinted through the dust at the sun, through the gaps of my fingers, with my face in my hands. It seemed like a dustbowl era. I realised that I didn’t want to be a part of the problem, so I didn’t go back down there, for some time afterwards.
2nd Verse
The Old Drovers’ Road
27 feet below
& those before, those long ago
All drawn to the broad north flow
Hear the hammer in the river
Rings like silver, shines like gold
All through the night
Louder than lies
& truths long mistold
Of the tunnels & the railroad
The French Broad River is said to be one of the oldest rivers in the world. It flows north. I travelled the river, extensively, before the storms hit. From Courthouse Falls, on the side of the Devil’s Courthouse, through towns like Rosman, Marshall, Hot Springs & such. The river is said to be considerably older than trees. All the life which has been drawn from & drawn to that river, all the way up to the indigenous & Native peoples, the drovers’ roads, & us. I recommend, ‘The French Broad’, a book by Wilma Dykeman, it’s a masterpiece on the life of the river & the history of the people of these regions. I often thought about the Great Flood of 1916, as I travelled the river. Back in September of 2024, regions along the French Broad, measured flooding, at over 27 feet, slightly higher than 1916’s records.
We live above the folk famed Swannanoa Tunnel, which has intrigued me deeply. I’ve been in the tunnel, it’s very ghostly in there. If you know the song of the same name, you may have heard the verse, “take this hammer, throw it in the water, still rings on baby, still shines on..”, which has taken on a multitude of meanings for me now. But originally, the lyric was sung from the perspective of the convict workers, who built the railroad & its tunnels. At the time, black men & woman were arrested for ‘crimes’ such as jaywalking, or being unemployed, to then be forced to work at gun point, many dying in the process. The incarcerated workers were even made to pull the Salisbury train, up the mountain, by hand, in order to make deadlines, to give the press the impression that the job had been achieved by a certain date. The tunnel has been here since 1879. Although the tunnel is currently experiencing relative quiet, for a change, much of the railroads have been decimated, & some sections will likely never be repaired to function again. The Swannanoa Tunnel supposedly being one such section.
3rd Verse
Carolina
Carolina rivers flow
When Carolina rivers grow
Everybody’s gonna know
Even the sky looks deeper now
The only light, its glow
So much not known
Hopin’ the dams will hold
& won’t let go
Only voices on the radio
We love the rivers here. They each have their own personality. That’s why I had the river talk to the town, in the first verse, ‘cause the river was overwhelmed as well. The Natives have “Long Person” in their beliefs, with head in the mountains & feet in the sea, & all the tributaries & such, are Long Person’s chattering children. I guess, maybe much like Old Man Mississippi River, where the French Broad’s waters eventually make their way. Looking through my photographs here, I have one of a Black Mountain town square white board, from September 28th, which read: “Curfew 7pm-7am / I-40 East & West past Asheville closed / I-26 North closed / I-26 South OK / No gas locally / No food & water yet / Power & Water restoration unknown / Shelters Open at AB Tech / & a number to call for missing persons.” Phone service was little or none.
I have a small battery powered vintage Westinghouse radio, which was a gift from my wife. I had it on, every day & night. It was my
main source of info. A makeshift radio station was created, using a Starlink, & a generator powered by propane. For a lot of people, it was the only voice they woulda heard, for days, if they were lucky enough to have even had a battery powered radio. Still hard to fathom some of the info & call ins I listened to on there. The radio was asking people, if they could, to leave a voice message on their own phones, to give a short message to say that they were safe, along with the time & date of when they left their message. Because phone service was mostly out, if someone tried to call a friend or relative, then at least they would have an update, through their voice message, when their call couldn’t get through. There was no music on the radio, only voices. One late night, the radio was reporting that the Bee Tree Dam was gonna breach, & that folks in its path, should evacuate immediately. But it was late at night. There was little or no phone service. My wife & I felt panicked & tried to text folks, feeling like it was futile. Thankfully, it turned out to be a false alarm. That was harrowing.
Without any electric lights on, the night skies were so dense with stars, that the sky itself also seemed to deepen, much like the waters did.