Rosemary came on stage, last.
In some ways she was the star of the show.
We'd seen her in the wings, holding a small bunch of garden flowers.
Earlier we'd heard a tune or two that rang true including "It's not just what your given, it's what you do with what you've got"; a Scottish ode to being useful.
We were at the Rowella Hall for part of the 2020 Festival of Small Halls.
Small Halls sees folk artists from across the globe tour some of Australia's smallest venues.
They come from as far away as Newfoundland and Scotland. They sell tea-towels alongside the musicians' t-shirts, CD and vinyl. It's that kind of gig.
The performers come to Australia to be part of Woodford Folk Festival between Christmas and New Year,
This week the artists played at Derby, Rowella, Nunamurra, Longford and Mole Creek.
We were the usual folk audience ... ageing hippies and youngling hipsters. The sort of people who successfully campaigned to save our Tamar Valley from the pulp mill.
West Tamar Mayor Christina Holmdahl was MC and scattered among our audience were some familiar activists and community people like Anne Layton-Bennett of the wonderful Tamar Valley Writers Festival, members of the local Lions Club and other volunteers.
The hall was wearing her prettiest mid-summer's party frock.
She was strewn with coloured flags, fairy lights and flowers. Her timbers were freshly polished. She wore a purple floral ruffle, agapanthus and lilies, spread across her footlights.
She had been born in Beaconsfield, but in 1927 was transported to her home of nearly 100 years on a sweet Rowella corner, overlooking vineyards and rolling pasture.
Small Halls, like Rowella, hold each town's stories.
I've been reading Peter Henning's biography, No Chains To Rust, about West Tamar resident, Bob McMahon.
Bob, who died in 2013, was an Exeter man; pioneering rock climber, artist, activist and leader of the anti-pulp mill protest from 2006.
He would have enjoyed our Monday evening at Rowella Hall. The same hall where he attended meetings to try and get answers from the politicians of the day.
We arrived at dusk and were waved across freshly-cut grass by men in fluro vests, members of the local Lions Club.
We'd packed a picnic, but volunteers were serving wine, selling ice creams and $2 raffle tickets.
By the time Rosemary came on stage we'd heard one of Scotland's finest voices, Siobhan Miller (think Maddy Prior).
We were transported to Edinburgh, Glasgow and the isle of Iona, off Scotland's West Coast.
I've often thought Tasmanians are a lot like the Scots, us with our rummin' disposition and finely-tuned bullshit radar.
Even our harsh landscape shares the same sense of isolated, haunting glory.
It was Miller's rendition of "it's not just what you're given" that took me wandering to the significance of places like the Rowella Hall and people like Rosemary Jensen and our committees of all persuasions, especially this past week of national bushfire disaster:
"And what's the use of two strong legs
If you only run away
What's the use of the finest voice
If you've nothing good to say now, ah
Or the use of strength and muscle
If you only push and shove
And what's the use of two good ears
If you can't hear those you love
It's not just what you're born with
It's what you choose to bear
It's not how big your share is
It's how much you can share
It's not the fights you dreamed of
It's those you really fought."