When my husband Damien wrote the songs you find on Saint Bartlett, we were living in our dream home. While it weighed in at less than 600 square feet, it had windows on all sides, vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, and best of all, a porch overlooking Vashon + the Puget Sound. That summer was the hottest on record in Seattle, and Damien would escape to the porch with his guitar, singing and writing and watching the Fauntleroy ferry cross below. We didn’t have a television, but he preferred to watch the storms roll in from the west anyhow.
To contrast with this rather delicious vision, it was during those months that some of our dearest people went through some very awful times. It’s a haze of hospital stays and revisiting past failures ... READ MORE