“American Landscapes” is the subtitle of my Trio #2 for Flute, Cello and Piano. Written in 2022, it has just been recorded and will be featured on a CD of my music due for release early next year.

Each of the four movements evokes a region of the U.S.A.

Today, I want to share the first movement, “New England,” a region richly blessed with beautiful landscapes -- mountains, deep forest, lakes and sea shores.

“Culture-scapes” as well. The writers: Hawthorne, Melville, Dickinson, Louisa May Alcott, Jewett and my beloved Odell Shepard. The museums, concert halls, universities. The beautiful churches, almost always the most notable structure even in the smallest villages.

The village itself is an art form, an artifact brought into existence not by the hands of a single artist but rather by many hands over several centuries. Like any artf orm, it has its masterpieces. Ask me which is the most beautiful village in New England and I might venture to reply, tentatively, “Stonington, Connecticut.”

I say “venture” and “tentatively” because, of course, I have not visited every village in New England and so am not really qualified to pass judgment. Competitors come quickly to mind. Litchfield, Falls Village, West Cornwall, all three also in Connecticut. You gather, rightly, that Connecticut is the New England state I know best.

How to express New England musically? That is the fascinating question I posed myself. I thought, first, about the coldness of the winters; accordingly, the movement begins in the frosty key of G minor. I thought of the churches and sought to include some hymn-like gestures in the movement. I thought of the village greens and tried to slip in some charm, some sweetness. I thought of old stone walls running through woodland and of the resplendent colors of New England autumn. And I thought of the great thinkers, the Transcendentalists -- Emerson, Thoreau, Bronson Alcott -- and of the mountain ranges that so often inspired them. What music for peaks of mountains and peaks of thought?

I am so happy to say, in response to that last question, I somehow stumbled upon a sublime theme, of the sort that comes to a composer only once a in decade -- if we’re lucky. I think it’s splendid and I not too bashful to say so. When I hear it, it brings me the same state of mind I experienced arriving at the top of a mountain after a long hike. It’s like looking out across northwestern Connecticut from Lion’s Head, on the Appalachian Trail, up to which my nephew and I climbed many years ago, up from Sage’s Ravine, far below. He was twelve years old and had never before climbed a mountain. I took him on his first backpacking trip.

This music somehow captures the feeling. I know that’s a tall boast but just listen. You’ll hear the tune played twice, both times by the flute and cello “singing” it together two octaves apart, like my nephew and me, while the piano provides a background.

The first time is at 1:14, re-stated even more grandly at 5:48. See what you think. Have you climbed to the top of mountains? Did it make you feel like that?

To hear the movement performed by flutist Betty Douglas, cellist Michael Ronstadt and pianist Brian Cashwell, click on the link above. There's also a link to a PDF of the score.

I'd love to know what you think about this music; reply if you're inclined. But please don't feel that you are expected to reply. I'm just glad to share my work in this way.

As always, feel free to forward this message to friends who might enjoy it.

Anyone can be on my little list of recipients for these mpFrees (as I call these musical emails). To sign up, people can email me at rick@sowash.com, sending just one word: "Yes." I'll know what it means.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH
July 26, 2026