I discovered Hadestown (the Musical) a while ago. I think first “Why We Build the Wall” on an NHPR music evening, and then references on Twitter for people looking for their Hamilton fix after finally coming to a point that we’d listened to the Hamilton and In The Heights cast albums as often as we could. For those who haven’t listened, it’s a musical retelling of the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice. A recurring description of Orpheus is that he’s a poor boy whose art can show the world the way that it could be, in spite of the way that it is. The kiddos and I listened through recently, and I was reminded how impressed I am by the creation.

Hadestown NPR Tiny Desk It seems a little odd to be discussing Hadestown in the farming category, but last year I was cleaning out the barn and playing the Hadestown album. At the end of the album, Hermes (who narrates the album) reflects on the story we were just told.

Cause, here’s the thing:

To know how it ends

And still begin to sing it again

As if it might turn out this time

I learned that from a friend of mine

Hadestown / Road to Hell II

Last year, getting piles of manure into the wheelbarrow, I got all the way through the album, and then circled back to the top.

It’s an old song

It’s an old tale from way back when

It’s an old song

But we’re gonna sing it again

Hadestown / Road to Hell

I was sobbing as the tragedy came round again (and I did not learn from either Orpheus or Anais Mitchell the lesson of how to listen as if it might turn out this time), and had to take a break and switch my listening before returning to fill the wheelbarrow. The sense-memory is enough now that whenever the album comes up again, I find myself right back in the barn full of filthy manure.

The barn’s a lot cleaner now than just before the annual mucking. Also, I find myself reminded of Isaiah and the lion lying down with the lamb, and world as it could be, in spite of the way that it is.

It’s a truism to say that there are a lot of cycles on the farm. The sheep are wandering through the grass, which is loving our hot, wet summer. I mucked the barn again a couple months ago. The sheep found some grass on patches that hadn’t grown well last year because I dumped last year’s manure there & the organic matter did what organic matter does. There’s a new pile of smelly, dirty stuff on what had been bare earth that hopefully will grow a bit more grass next year. Cycles repeat, with variation. The summer is hotter and wetter, and that variation is unlikely to change. It’s hard to see a path for that trend that isn’t tragic.

But here’s the thing: I don’t have to see the path to a non-tragic future. I don’t know what will happen on the farm, and in even that smallest uncertainty of that “don’t know” is all the gap I need to “begin to sing again / as if it might turn out this time”. I’ve learned that from a Friend of mine, and it might not be a daily occurrence that I can look out on the farm and see the world as it could be, in spite of the way that it is, but it happens a lot. So, if you haven’t heard it yet, or if you have, here’s the Hadestown album – “it’s an old song / But we’re gonna sing it again.”

(link, since I think the embedded playlist isn’t working and I don’t really want to try to figure out how to fix it - youtu.be/ZgsfT2w7F…)