There’s a place in this world that will always be home. It’s on a hillside in the green caps of coastal range by a brush covered creek. Along a gravel road to the top of the world, where you could probably reach up and touch heaven.
Oh the water, I hope it don’t rain all day. It stoned me, to my soul, it stoned me just like jellyroll, and it stoned me.
The misty fog covered mountain smell fills your nose. The constant sound of water. The true fountain of youth. It’s in those hills. Of course only in a matter of speaking. Down on the northfork everything seems to make you feel young and alive, even if it’s in a memory. And that’s why we call it jellyroll.
Take it away Van…