Twenty years of touring. Twenty years on the road. "My own weariness amazes me," as Bob Dylan sings to his Tambourine Man. I feel ya, Bob. But the depth of my gratitude amazes me too. I'm humbled by the countless gifts of fanship and friendship throughout the past two decades. I would say it's been a dream, except I never could have dreamt up most of it. I've shared stages and drinks in hotel rooms with my heroes, met children named after me, made friendships rooted in music from Auckland to the Arctic Circle, performed on trains, on boats, for Wall Street men in tuxes and for the muddy denizens of a musk ox farm... Not bad for a lonely rambler girl from Idaho. It was always a nebulous gut feeling that got the show on the road, and so it is now but in reverse. A gut feeling is telling me to get off the road, at least for now. After 2026, touring and I will part ways for a year, maybe two, maybe fifty...it's hard to say at this point. I do hope to keep performing in some capacity. Maybe come see me of a weeknight in some Boise dive, playing for potatoes? Or strumming the guitar for a handful of fellow meditators as we contemplate the Dharma and the temporary nature of all things. I need some time for a new exploration, to try to be the kind of mother I want to be, and to stop moving long enough "to let my soul catch up with me," as my grandma Jeanne used to say. Who knows what will come of that? Maybe on some jingle-jangle morning I'll come following the next great dream, rested and ready to go anywhere. But until then, suffice it to say...thank you. Thank you, thank you to everyone who carried me forward all this way and in all your different ways. With love, gratitude, and solidarity in music always, --Eilen