This installment marks the end of Volume II, and the last of the 24-piece meditations series, a two-volume project where, as of this post, I have written and shared instrumental songs in every musical key over the last two years. I am so grateful for your time and attention.
Volume III will be announced soon.
Thank you for being here for the 25th installment of this newsletter, and the final piece of Volume II.
🎵 This month’s piece is in E-flat minor.1
This is such a special post. In addition to this being the final song of the two-year project I mentioned above, I wrote it for the newdocumentary, Woodbine, out today from the exceedingly talented.
Woodbine explores Taegan’s attempts to pull together various threads of his life after losing his dad at a young age, sixteen years ago. I’m honored to have provided the soundtrack for the entire documentary, and this piece, “Beneath the Woodbine”, was written specifically for the film.
Taegan is an incredible storyteller and filmmaker, and I feel so fortunate to have had the opportunity to collaborate with him on such a deeply personal project. My own dad passed away in 2019, and we lost my father-in-law not long after in 2020, so this collaboration has been especially meaningful. Taegan and I are also both new fathers, and working on this project together allowed us to, yes, connect through loss, but also explore our grief in a way that felt hopeful and forward-looking, even as we spent time — together and separately — excavating hard moments from our pasts. Sitting with Taegan’s well-crafted work has surfaced dozens of dormant memories I’ve carried of my own dad and has inspired me to think deeply about the kind of father, and person, I want to be for my son, and my family.
I don’t want to give too much away — so, please carve out some time to watch the documentary yourself, especially if you want to find out what’s beneath the woodbine. And if you need a good cry.
📷 This month’s photo was taken on Mt. Hood in Oregon.2
I had the chance to stay at this historic cabin over a long weekend last fall. I snapped the photo above during a rare break in the rain before ducking back inside to sit by the wood stove. It was a gloriously slow few days: I chopped wood, hiked, listened to the rain, wrote, read, slept, and did little else.
I invite you to sit with this month’s song, photo, and poem and make them a small part of your day, whether that’s your morning ritual, afternoon break, or your evening wind-down. And please go watch Taegan’s documentary, Woodbine.
As always, if you feel like it, let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you.
Thank you again for being here.
To See It
by Laura Foley3
We need to separate to see
the life we've made.
We need to leave our house
where someone waits for us, patiently,
warm beneath the sheets.
We need to don a sweater, a coat, mittens,
wrap a scarf around our neck,
stride down the road,
a cold winter morning,
and turn our head back,
to see it—perched
on the top of the hill, our life
lit from inside.
🔈 A reading (by me):
Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel (Bookshop) (Thank you, Jon, for the recommendation!)
📖 Explore all the books that have been shared in this newsletter:
Call It Dreaming by Iron & Wine (Listen)
🎧 I put all the songs shared in the newsletter into this Spotify playlist
The news that I had the opportunity to hear my first film score up on the big screen here in Portland last week.’s short documentary, To Be Rich, a companion piece to her fantastic book Windfall, which was shown at Cinema21 last week as part of a local film screening.4
I wrote the score for
Another ambient piece I wrote for the most recent chapter of’s utopian novel, Oblivion:
Rich says: “I love this shirt. It’s the best shirt I’ve ever owned. Very soft and such. Everyone should have one.”
Beneath the Woodbine in E-flat minor / Written and produced by Fog Chaser / Recorded in Logic Pro
Cabin, iPhone / Mt. Hood, Oregon, USA
That’s me, Matthew M. Evans.