Three Miles to Pine Creek captures the sounds of Tioga County (PA) mixed beautifully with music. Over 25 musicians, artists, poets, photographers and sound engineers contributed in the production of this piece of work in partnership with the American Cancer Society in 1998. Funded originally by local businesses with all proceeds from the sales going direct to the ACS, the digital version in the 2015 re-release was made possible by Living Word Fellowship Church in Wellsboro, PA. As before, all funds raised through the online purchase of the album go direct to the local chapter of the American Cancer Society in Tioga County. Album Credits: Produced by David Vaughan Instruments recorded by Bob Rubin, Whitneyville Recording. Tioga County Nature Sounds recorded by Russ Clarke, MC II Productions. Mixed by Bob Rubin, Dave Bush and David Vaughan Mastered by Bob Rubin, edited by Debbie Rubin The 6' baby grand piano used for the recording of 'Yesterday's Rain', 'Thunder on Newtown Hill', and 'Nightfall at Hanson's Pond' was done on location at the First Presbyterian Church in Wellsboro, PA. The 6' baby grand piano used for the recording of 'Measure of Tranquillity' was done on location at Mansfield University, Mansfield, PA. The cover art work was painted by Warren Goodrich. The photographers who provided their work for the original 6 page CD insert were: Steven Owlett, Jim Locey, Bob Rubin, Mark Bixby, Bruce Dart, and Robert Blair. The compositions were named according to nature sounds and themes. The producer would like to thank: Rev. Ruth Vaughan and Rev. Kathy Moore and Living Word Fellowship Church, Scott Blackwell, Dave Bush, Russ and Cheryl Clarke, First Presbyterian Church, Charles Haun (of the American Cancer Society), Kingdom Co., Gary Lablanc, Mansfield University, Bob and Debbie Rubin, Ross Shourds, Vista Simmons, St Paul's Episcopal Church, all of the artists, musicians, photographers, contributors and everyone who helped make this project possible. The following two poems appear on the 1998 CD insert: Lessons in Navigation: Pine Creek 'We push off from the shallows. Our red canoe, a gash against the pines, slips and scrapes unit it eases into the lazy waters of Muskrat Eddy. It is the high solstice of summer and your recovery. We are stripped to bathing suits and life preservers beneath a sun we cannot meet with our eyes. Your new, silvered curls glisten like broken fishing line snagged and nappy on the purple heads of joe-pye. It's nearly three years but you are strong again, sure at the stern; plying paddle, dip and pull. I am a novice assigned to the bow, an uneasy lookout. "Good thing for yesterday's storm," you say. Yes, I think, and bend deep over the prow, intent on the inches between the boat's bottom and the ragged bed of terraced rock. Already sweating the fabled rapids of Owassee, I miss the leap and fan of a brook trout. You tease us past an outcropping frosted with moss, still spilling midnight's canyon rain, an irritation of wild indigo, a rash of columbine, and the jagged nosegays of raspberry. You lean, canoe-tipsy, like a drunken bear swiping at the warty nubs, raking the last magenta petals to the current. A tart few berries come off in a tangle of thorns. They are hard and pink and my tongue rings, watering for riper days ahead, for the vintage blood fruits of July that fall fat and easy into the hand. Suddenly, the boat snares at the bow, and we are released to the channel catty-wompus. I am caught by surprise, alarmed by the unruddered reel. We are floating fast back-aft-forward. But you are calm and rapt, scanning the waters where we've been. You apprehend the present: the astonishing green of merganser, the osprey bombardier, the buzz and strafe of a cobalt dragon fly. You cup your hand in the water and bathe your face. Somewhere a distant hawk calls, its voice reborn on the canyon walls. Listening to the riffles of Tiadaghton and the chorus of the gorge, your smile says this is what comes of a near miss: a calm in spite of sculling blind, the grace of a journey rehearsed in the heart.' - Mary Carter Ginn The Heart of Us 'Not so far away, small towns bustle with visitors coming to relax and taste of country life, to enjoy the wonders of nature serene. The sight of our canyon is exhilarating with its blushing blossoms of laurel dancing and enhancing the hues of mountains green. Puffs of white cross the sky of purest blue, and the wind whispers past Wynken, Blynken , and Nod, dampening their faces but not their spirit, it seems. Life finds people enjoying much slower paces. Phases of nature spring through winter. Wildlife, hills, valleys, and mountain streams. Eagles soar majestically over our heads, hunting from the precious earth we hold so dear, she feeds and nurtures her young, yet unseen. It's not the lingering days causing buds to swell, or the crisp autumn breezes changing leaves to crimson, these are only necessities mother nature deems. It's the smiling hello of friendly faces strolling by, the true heart of Tioga County, present in each. Close your eyes, breath our air, we're more than just a dream.' - Susan Dawn Erney Cummings