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a season of the new

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First month of the year, ’tis the season of turning over a new leaf and for me that includes lots of new things: new photos, new website and most importantly…new music! Yes, those demos have been taking their sweet time coalescing into something resembling the kinds of new songs I’ve been hearing inside my head – and willing to send off into the world. But the time is nigh!

But first, the photos. I just did a shoot with fantastic (and fascinating) photographer, Jimi Giannatti. Go click the link and see all the great work he’s done with really cool people! Here’s a sneak peek at of some of the pieces of my soul Jimi captured.

FYI – the building you’ll see in some of these shots are from a beautiful mission-style building called San Pedro Chapel. You’d think you were out in the middle of the Sonoran desert but this chapel – standing since the 1930s – is actually in the heart of Tucson in one of the oldest neighborhoods – originally called El Fuerte (the Strong) and is now Old Fort Lowell. It’s a tiny road surrounded by isolated adobes, ranches and native landscape that I didn’t have any idea existed just a mile from my house.

Cristina Williams by Jimi Giannatti

Cristina Williams by Jimi Giannatti

Cristina Williams by Jimi Giannatti

Cristina Williams by Jimi Giannatti

Cristina Williams by Jimi Giannatti

New website coming soon!

xo
Cristina

folk fest recap

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This is way overdue but here’s some video and pictures from the 2016 Tucson Folk Festival. For those who don’t know, the Folk Fest – as it’s usually called around here – brings folkies from all over the region. I think over two hundred acts perform over three days! I’ve been wanting to be a part of it for a while and this year it finally happened. Jamie, Mike and Brian played wonderful arrangements to these tunes – some that I’ve been playing around for many years, some are very new and two are either written by or cowritten with my dad, Tom Williams!

This video is a song that I co-wrote with Daddy when he sent me a beautiful stream-of-consciousness email about friendship and roads taken and untaken through the years – called “Across Time”

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Valley of the Moon

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There’s a funky old children’s attraction in Tucson that was started by a nice man in the 40’s as an enchanted place for kids. He made a magic snake out of oatmeal canisters and was re-using materials way before it was trendy. I was fascinated by the story and hence this song…

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wildflowers

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Every now and again when our friend Laura hung out with us in our backyard, she’d say something along the lines of “Y’know, you should scatter some wildflower seeds back here.” I’d enthusiastically nod my head but then forget – the backyard is full of pavers and gravel with a little bit of earth around our refrigerator bed. Nothing that seemed to want to be home to flowers. Even though I’m hyper-aware of the surprising amount of color and variety in the spring flowers of the Sonoran desert, I was content with the African daisies we inherited in our front yard.

Field of African daisies by Cyril Barrett

Then sometime last fall Jamie and I finally stopped by Native Seeds to grab some vegetable seeds for the winter garden in our new berm.

Let me back up.

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gift of the monsoon

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Tucson has been experiencing more monsoons this summer than since we  moved here (over 3 years ago). The natives tell us there used to be monsoons every day this time of year – the clouds would start to build throughout the day, gathering their moisture and then dumping it all out around 5 o’clock. Children would relish the frequent power outages taking everyone back to primitive but beautiful nights of candlelight and shadows. For a while now, the monsoons have been coming later, stopping sooner, with less rain to replenish depleted water tables. We’ve been told we’ve never seen a real monsoon season.

But this year has been different. We had our first monsoon in June – right when the official season opened – which shocked all of Tucson with joy. And the Fourth of July brought even more reason to celebrate with drenching rains throughout the day. We grinned as water flooded our patio – what’s a few soggy bags of charcoal when there’s all this WATER? Woo hoo!

Living in the desert changes your perspective on everything.

Ah the electric tingle of an approaching monsoon. It’s the wind that first pricks my attention. That delicious soft summer breeze starts growing. And growing. The clouds that were fluffy and white start darkening. Fast. The bruised sky keeps deepening and spreading. It’s all so sudden it doesn’t even seem real. The wind gets even stronger making the trees and bushes dance a strange tarantella. You start scanning the clouds, gauging the direction of the wind – will it actually happen? Or will it just miss us and take its tropical drama to the north or south? We’ve been disappointed before.

But no, you hear the first crack of thunder – then a white branch of lightning and it’s close. Anticipation builds – there’s no way you’re going back inside. There’s energy all around – soaking into you – hair whipping your face – air whistling in your ear – all the while building, building. You think of the thrill in your stomach when you climb the top of a roller coaster mountain.

And then the first hard drops slam – BAM – onto the pavement, the gravel. Splashing tiny craters into the soil. At first just a little sprinkle practically sizzles on the asphalt. But then more drops fall, and more. Finally sheets of water cascade down, a constant drum roll plays on the roof, creeks materialize to baptize your backyard then run for lower ground. The odd dove swoops through looking for shelter. Crack – BOOM. More lightning and thunder.

And then…it’s done. Just like that. The clouds hang around for a little while longer but they’ve dumped their cargo and soon start to dissipate. The minutes-old creeks and ponds start to disappear too, as the thirsty earth drinks up every drop possible. You already start to miss the sound and fury.

But if you’re lucky, the desert sometimes leaves a magical trick of full spectrum light as a sweet parting kiss.

And if you’re luckier, she’ll leave two.