{"id":203,"date":"2019-05-28T16:43:00","date_gmt":"2019-05-28T23:43:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/staging.mikefairfield.com\/?p=203"},"modified":"2026-06-22T14:52:32","modified_gmt":"2026-06-22T21:52:32","slug":"under-the-shade-of-august","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mikefairfield.com\/blog\/under-the-shade-of-august\/","title":{"rendered":"Under the Shade of August"},"content":{"rendered":"\n


I think a good songwriter is like a fisherman.

A true songwriter captures a special moment, takes it home, filets it, adds the perfect amount of herbs and spice and compliments it with fresh greens and a nice glass of chardonnay\u2026 Then he shares it with those he holds dear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Take this song about a tree for example. Yup, it\u2019s about a tree but it\u2019s special for good reason.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was the summer of 2007, August 5th. I remember because it was my birthday. A beautiful summer long weekend. Nine of us friends had set up our horseshoe of trailers on the perfect secluded plot at the edge of Douglas Lake Ranch. Our own little paradise. Rolling golden hills scattered with purple flowers, tropical looking bluey-green water on a small white sandy beach. To think that our little home town of Merritt, BC was only slightly within cell-range of some God-forsaken emergency calling us back to work. Thankfully, that didn\u2019t happen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the sun set, our bellies full from bbq and birthday cake, I\u2019ll always remember that feeling of contentment you get from being with friends, guard down, enjoying the peace and quiet that nature brings. The warm glow on your face from a crackling fire, a drink to wade off the slightly cooler breeze at your back… the dark blue canopy of moonlit sky\u2026 all under one big majestic, stand-alone, rugged statue that gently sang with the wind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t remember who said it first, but a number of us were thinking about it\u2026 Capturing the moment. The atmosphere. The memories in the making.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We should write a song.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Out came a scrap of paper and, guitars in hand, we all started contributing ideas for lyrics. The environment had all the makings of a cheezy country tune: fake straw hats, whiskey, dogs and pick-up trucks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harley<\/a> started jotting something along the lines that our buddy Frank couldn\u2019t find his way to his truck. Then scribbled it out. How about the crickets and the campfire? More scratches. Then for some reason, our attention was drawn to the massive dark monster of a rugged old pine, gently swaying overhead. Wow..if that old pine could talk. Then came words and made-up phrases about natures old war-hero as we put them to tried-and-true chords. And there we sat… under the shade of August… ’cause the tree deserved a name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coral-Ann grabbed the paper from Harley and added a few more lines…\u201cI was here before your grandad… and I\u2019ll be here long after your gone.\u201d… a prophecy written as Coral-Ann has since passed on to heaven, while that old tree remains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was the fish.<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n

We all caught it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But Harley was the one that wouldn\u2019t let it get away. He took it home and carefully prepared a wonderful lasting memory for the rest of us.

<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n