Kim Churchill plodded through puddles along the road that ran backstage at Telluride Blues and Brews. His back was turned to us, a guitar in his left hand, his pants rolled up past his ankles, his shoeless feet speckled with mud. He left The Van the same as he’d come into it. A smile on his face, he floated upon us, a true minstrel, in the purest sense of the word. Spotted shoeless all weekend, the one man band seemed the type of dude that might not travel well in packs. Not that he wouldn’t get along with anyone and everyone. He was a gentle soul, a fan of conversation, a giver of music, he’d get along well with a band, no doubt. It’s just, a cat who you see skipping around in the Colorado rain without shoes upon his feet, that’s the kind of cat that don’t want to stay at home long. The kind that likes to roam around where you tell him not to. The kind that doesn’t always come in for dinner. He floated out the same as he floated in. A skip in his step, a sparkle in his glance, and no need for shoes along his road, because feet can feel it better.