(acoustic folk music) ♪ Back roads and byways ♪ ♪ Campfires, we lie awake ♪ ♪ Sweet grass and summer sage ♪ ♪ Come on baby, come and take my hand ♪ ♪ Take my hand ♪ ♪ Take my hand ♪ ♪ We're Dakota-bound ♪ - Join us on the road, as we tour around the great state of South Dakota, sharing stories and songs.

Eponymously named for town in which it was built, our destination is a general store in far-western South Dakota, located along Highway 79 near Custer National Forest.

16 miles south of town is Castle Rock and Haystack Butte, large, sandstone buttes that appear from a distance like medieval palaces.

To the east, the twin points of Deer's Ears Butte stand sentinel.

Other than that, it is wide open prairie, for as far as the eye can see.

Which is why most people are surprised and thankful to find a store on this lonesome stretch of highway.

The town itself was laid out in 1905, and a post office was established in 1905, as well.

But the store is now the only business in this rural location.

Built of wood in 1902, the store looks like a western movie set.

It has not been open continuously, however.

When Leona McFarland bought a ranch in 1976 with her husband Jim, they found that the store, then closed, came with the property.

"We had a couple of teenage daughters "that were interested in opening it up, so we did," says Leona.

The neighbors were appreciative.

The next place to buy milk or eggs is 33 miles down the road.

Gas, sandwiches, salt blocks and other necessities for man, cattle and sheep are the store's mainstays.

"But beer is number one, by far," laughs Leona.

Tourists and bikers straggle in throughout the year, and hunters arrive in the autumn to look for deer, antelope and turkey.

Some hang their trophy mounts in the store, beside the McFarland collection of cowboy memorabilia, fossils, arrowheads, old photos, and of course the famous potbelly stove that warms the store on cold winter days, and offers the nostalgic scent of wood smoke all year round.

(acoustic music) Hi, I'm Eliza Blue, and I'm at the Hoover General Store in Hoover, South Dakota.

And I wish you were here!

So, today we are gonna be sharing some songs with you, but the Hoover store is a working store, so you might be hearing this sound, (door creaking) as customers come and go.

Let's go get the band!

We wanted to start off with a song that is an old, traditional folk song, and like so many great folk songs, has about a million verses, and if you've heard this song before, you've also heard, probably, a completely different version than what we're about to play you.

So I first heard Spider John Kerner play this tune, and loved it, so kind of my version is a mix of his version, plus added some of my own lyrics, which that's the beauty of folk music, but we thought we'd start off with this one, because this is the perfect place to be kind of playing a little, a laid-back folk tune kind of show.

So we'll start you off with this.

It's called: Red Apple Juice.

(acoustic folk music) ♪ I ain't got no use for you, red apple juice ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby now ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby now ♪ ♪ I ain't got no use for you, red rocking chair ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby there ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby there ♪ ♪ Who'll rock the cradle, who will sing this song ♪ ♪ Who'll rock the cradle when you're gone, lord, gone ♪ ♪ Who'll rock the cradle when you're gone ♪ ♪ I ain't got no use for you, red apple juice ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby now ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby now ♪ ♪ Yeah who will rock the cradle ♪ ♪ Who will sing this song ♪ ♪ Who'll rock the cradle when you're gone, lord, gone ♪ ♪ Who'll rock the cradle when you're gone ♪ ♪ I ain't got no use for you, red rocking chair ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby there, no lord ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby there ♪ ♪ I ain't got no use for you, red apple juice ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby now, lord no ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby now ♪ ♪ And I ain't got no use for your red rocking chair ♪ ♪ Ain't got no honey baby there ♪ ♪ I ain't got no honey baby there ♪ ♪ I ain't got no honey baby ♪ ♪ There ♪ When we started researching to do this episode here in Hoover, we were looking for background information about the store and the town but we came across a postcard from a gal named Mable to a woman named Gladys.

And it must have come from some time about when homesteading was opened up here, as she was describing how she was going to be teaching school, and she had her own land, and was just really thrilled and excited to invite Gladys to come visit her once she was settled.

So, we decided to take the text of that postcard and write a song, and it's called: Dear Gladys.

(acoustic folk music) ♪ Dear Gladys, ♪ ♪ Sorry that you looked for me in vain ♪ ♪ At the July Fourth gathering ♪ ♪ Say, Gladys ♪ ♪ I've been known to fool my friends sometimes ♪ ♪ I'm here to stay, my job starts September five ♪ ♪ Please write me when you get this ♪ ♪ Come see me when you can ♪ ♪ You'd love to see me in my home ♪ ♪ On my own land ♪ ♪ Oh, Gladys ♪ ♪ I've spent gold on my own ♪ ♪ Just two more weeks, I'll be living in my own home ♪ ♪ Please, Gladys ♪ ♪ Say hello to everyone at home ♪ ♪ Did I mention there's a piece of land that I own ♪ ♪ Please write me when you get this ♪ ♪ Come see me when you can ♪ ♪ You're gonna see me in my home ♪ ♪ On my own land ♪ ♪ Please write me when you get this ♪ ♪ Come see me when you can ♪ ♪ You'd love to see me in my home ♪ ♪ On my own land ♪ ♪ You'd love to see me in my home ♪ ♪ On my own land ♪ - Community is one of the things that makes small-town South Dakota so great.

And the Hoover store is a perfect example of that.

This is a community gathering spot.

It's a place to get groceries.

It's just a real highlight for this community.

So, I wanted to share a chapter from my book that is titled: The Art of Neighboring.

It's about one of my favorite parts of living in western South Dakota, and I think anybody who comes from a small town will be able to relate to this.

I'm rumbling down the road, the tires jumping at each jutting chunk of loose gravel and deep rut.

To our east, a knot of black cows stands, munching a bale of hay rolled out flat against the snow.

To the west, there's nothing but grass, and ahead to the south, a loose tangle of canyons, on the edge of which sits a small trailer house.

My son and I pull up to the house, the barn-wood siding and red roof shimmering like a cozy mirage against the slate-gray sky.

I bundle my baby in a soft, blue blanket and hustle through the wind, my boots crunching as we go.

Our friend and one of her small sons greets us at the front door, ushering us in from the cold.

Today, we are neighboring.

Every region has its own unique dialect, words and phrases that evolve to describe the particulars of that place.

Western South Dakota is no different.

A word usage that I had never heard before moving here, but have grown to love, is the verb form of: neighbor.

I first heard it from an older friend one morning over coffee.

"We did a lot of neighboring back in those days," she said, cutting into the pan of bars she'd just pulled out of the oven.

As a former English teacher, my ears perked up.

What a great word!

I had never heard that word used that way before, but instantly, neighboring became associated in my mind with having baked goods at the ready, in case someone stopped over for a chat, the door opened, the hearth warm and inviting.

Over the last few years, my understanding of neighboring has deepened as I've become more a part of this place.

Referring to its most basic usage, to neighbor someone can mean simply that they are your neighbor, as in your ranch borders theirs, and that you regularly swap work for seasonal events like branding.

Money is rarely exchanged for this type of labor, because everyone knows the favor will be returned when the time comes, but as a good friend explained, in the spirit or heart sense, neighboring means offering a helping hand with anything they need, be it physical, emotional, financial, spiritual, practical, et cetera.

Or according to another friend, it can simply mean stopping over for a cup of coffee for no reason other than to visit, which is what I am up to today.

Perhaps the art of neighboring is the reason I have never felt lonely in this place, which depending on your criteria, is one of the most remote in the contiguous United States.

Living and working in cities, it is easy to be anonymous.

The same people frequent the same coffee shops, every day at the same time, and yet they never speak.

Contrast that with my experience here.

The first time I walked into our grocery store, people greeted me by name.

They'd never seen me before, but I guess I fit a description they'd heard, and really, who else could I be?

By now, I've been the recipient of some wonderful neighboring.

For example, when I was living alone, I left a message on a friend's voicemail to ask if she knew anyone who might be able to help me with a simple carpentry project.

It was time-sensitive, and she must have heard the anxiety in my voice.

I came home that afternoon from work to find her son and son in law with their tools strewn across the front porch, the job nearly complete.

I tried to pay them, but they wouldn't accept a cent.

Thankfully, I happened to have baked goods ready to send with them, and the knowledge that though I couldn't repay in kind, someday if they needed help, I would be there to lend a hand.

Another form of neighboring that took this city girl some getting used to was never locking car doors.

Not on your house, not on your garage, not on your car.

In fact, most folks leave their keys in the ignition.

"In case someone needs to borrow it," I've heard more than once.

I don't think I need to tell you that that would not fly in a city, unless you don't mind not getting your vehicle back.

The same is true with unlocked doors.

"Oh, just go in and grab what you need, if we aren't home," people will often say.

Where I come from, you don't go into people's homes uninvited, and you certainly don't walk inside and take things if they aren't home.

Of course, most city dwellers don't really need to walk into people's homes uninvited.

Have car troubles?

Call a tow-truck.

Need Tylenol for your baby's fever?

That's why all-night drugstores were invented.

Getting that midwinter cabin fever feeling?

Make a date at a local cafe.

But here, those things aren't so simple.

It's hard to describe to people who haven't seen it themselves the scale of our community's isolation.

When I say our town is small, fewer than 400 people live in it, I could be describing a lot of places in America.

The next closest town is equally small, and so is the next and the next.

And again, that's not necessarily unusual in a rural area.

But what is unusual here is that when you drive the 40 or so miles between towns, you may not see another person the whole way.

And you won't have cell service for some of that drive, either.

So if your car breaks down it is quite possible you will need to go to someone's house to use their phone, and if they aren't home, you'll have to go in uninvited.

They say necessity is the mother of invention.

And I'd say that's true of the other kind of neighboring, as well.

Limited forms of entertainment make a weekly visit to a neighbor's ranch a highlight of any given week.

A morning chat over coffee, an afternoon working over a branding fire, these are the bright threads in the fabric of our daily life.

Neighbors get to know each other over generations, as they watch each other's children grow and eventually have children of their own.

Like the beautiful patchwork quilts that are the staple in every homestead, the neighborly exchange of goods and services, kindnesses and comfort, join us together.

Back at my friend's house, I unwrap the baby from his winter layers, while she makes tea.

We sit on the floor and marvel at how much they have already grown.

Just then, another vehicle pulls up outside.

It is my friend's mother in law, dropping off my friend's older son, who is visiting nanny and pop-pop for the morning.

40 years ago, this same woman was pulling up to a different trailer, not very far away, taking her own small son, bundled for the winter, out for a little neighboring.

The friend who came to greet her at the door is now my mother in law, and the little boy she held in her arms, my husband.

40 years later, a good neighbor is as valuable as ever.

I hug my son to my chest, reminded again how lucky we are to be patches in this beautiful quilt.

A quilt that warms us even in the deepest winter.

Well this is a song that I wrote many, many years ago, long before I came to South Dakota, back when I was a city-dweller and knew absolutely nothing about agriculture, certainly not firsthand.

So I used to play it a lot, but I get a big kick out of playing it now, because now I actually know what I'm singing about.

So, we really enjoy playing this song, and we hope you enjoy it too.

(acoustic folk music) ♪ Spend my daylight a-hauling hay ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Spend my daylight hauling hay ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Driving horses til the day is done, ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Til the day is done ♪ ♪ Hey, hey ♪ ♪ Til the day is done ♪ ♪ Work is hard, it's a heavy load ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Work is hard, it's a heavy load ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Count the hours til the day is done ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Til the day is done, hey ♪ ♪ Til the day is done ♪ ♪ Weather's hot and the creek is dry ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Weather's hot and the creek is dry ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Jenny's waiting on the other side ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ 'Cause the day is done, hey-hey ♪ ♪ 'Cause the day is done ♪ ♪ Spend my daylight a-hauling hay ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Spend my daylight hauling hay ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ Weather's hot and the creek is dry ♪ ♪ Hey now, hey now ♪ ♪ 'Cause the day is done ♪ ♪ Hey, 'cause the day is done ♪ ♪ Hey, hey ♪ ♪ 'Cause the day is done ♪ ♪ Hey, hey ♪ ♪ And the day is done ♪ (accordion music) - This is Rick, my accordion.

We've been together for a while, and Rick's taught me a few things.

One of the things Rick has taught me is: if you feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, it's time to put the accordion down.

- This tune is actually the title track of my last album.

It's called: South Dakota, First of May.

And as I'm sure most of you are well aware, May is not necessarily the beginning of spring in this part of the world, so it is not an unusual occurrence that we have some pretty chilly weather on the first of May, and the year that I wrote this song, it actually was snowing on the first of May.

So that was the inspiration behind it.

So you might wanna get some blankets, snuggle in.

South Dakota, First of May.

(acoustic folk music) ♪ South Dakota, first of May we lay ♪ ♪ Planks across the yard ♪ ♪ The corner cold frames frosted over ♪ ♪ The sky ♪ ♪ Is gray ♪ ♪ It sounds like oceans overhead and still ♪ ♪ It's only almost spring ♪ ♪ Last night's snow clings to the dirt road ♪ ♪ The sky ♪ ♪ Still gray ♪ ♪ In the ditch, a dead bird's black wing lifts ♪ ♪ Waving in the wind ♪ ♪ It sounds like oceans overhead ♪ ♪ Sounds like oceans overhead ♪ ♪ And will the birds, will the birds reach out and sing ♪ ♪ Turn this endless winter into spring ♪ ♪ Will the birds, will birds reach out and sing ♪ ♪ Turn this endless winter into ♪ ♪ Standing still and always leaning ♪ ♪ Into a wind that sounds just like waves ♪ ♪ Standing still and always leaning ♪ ♪ Into a wind that sounds just like waves ♪ ♪ It's only almost spring ♪ ♪ It's only almost spring ♪ ♪ It's only almost spring ♪ ♪ Back roads and byways ♪ ♪ Campfires, we lie awake ♪ ♪ Sweet grass and summer sage ♪ ♪ Come on baby, come and take my hand ♪ ♪ Take my hand ♪ ♪ Take my hand ♪ ♪ We're Dakota-bound ♪ (acoustic folk music)