Trio: Wildflowers & Paper Dolls
This vintage Trio vinyl isn’t just a 1987 country record — it’s a wildflower story about Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris, stitched together like a coat of many colors and humming with timeless Say-So.
Found on Cherry Street
On a bright Thursday in Macon, I stepped into Fresh Produce on Cherry Street with my best friend since kindergarten, Susan, and Mark, her husband — the champion tumbler on our 5th grade tumbling team and later quarterback of our high school football team (Go Demons!).
Our own trio has been coming to Macon our whole lives. Heck, Susan and Mark have lived here for nearly 40 years.
Downtown Macon has changed a great deal since the 70s, but some things don’t change; like a well-stocked record store. Fresh Produce, a home-grown record store on Cherry Street, smells like old times and new dreams, and right there between Merle and Willie sat Trio, the 1987 vinyl by Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris. Just waiting for me to come along and bring her home for sixteen bucks.
In the top corner, a ballpoint pen signature: John Martin. Whoever you are, John, thanks for keeping these harmonies safe all these years.
The Backstory
Dolly, Linda, and Emmylou were friends long before they were a record. Dolly was a country/pop crossover star by then; Linda was a chart-topping rock/pop/country darling; Emmylou was the rootsy angel weaving Gram Parsons’ cosmic American music forward.
They’d tried to capture their porch harmonies in the late ’70s, but record labels fussed: too many egos, too many contracts, too much Say-So for three women. So this trio of spectacular artists did it their way — harmonizing in each other’s living rooms while the business folks dithered.
It took until 1986–87 to finally lay these tracks down with producer George Massenburg. The result? Trio was a rootsy masterpiece that won a Grammy, topped the country charts for weeks, and opened the door for future all-women country/folk collaborations. It still holds up because it’s timeless — no trend-chasing, just three voices, three stories, stitched together like a coat of many colors you can’t throw away.
That Surprising Inner Sleeve
When I slipped the record out of its cover, there they were: Dolly, Linda, and Emmylou drawn as paper dolls, sketched in their underthings with cut-out western get-ups to dress them back up. Part sweet nostalgia, part eyebrow raise.
Was it fun or was it sexist? Well, yes — and yes. In the late 80s, paper dolls would have been a nod to girlhood in simpler times, when you made your own entertainment with a pair of scissors and a wish.
But did these three legends have to be sugar-wrapped in “playful” packaging? The wink, though, is that they owned it. The wardrobe’s credited to “André of the Valley” and Manuel — the legendary Rhinestone Rembrandt, who dressed everyone from Johnny Cash to Gram Parsons. This wasn’t just kitsch — it was high-country couture, sketched into cartoon cut-outs.
A Porchlight for Mama and Her Paper Dolls
Looking at that playful Trio sleeve brought up Mama’s own cut-out worlds — making paper dolls were her way of shaping childhood memories, like these three women shaped their harmony.
When Mama passed in 2020 — just as COVID locked down the world — I sat alone clearing her cottage, with no family around, kept company by three kittens born under her garden shed. Sophia still naps in my window today. Miss Olivia wandered away, hopefully to a loving family. Genevieve, now Lily, lives with my nephew Shawn down in Hazelhurst, where Mama grew up.
Tucked among Mama’s things, I found her collection of paper doll books: the Kennedys, Vivien Leigh, Marilyn Monroe, Clark Gable, Civil War families, Victorian fashions. She’d told me how she’d made her own paper dolls from the Sears catalog back in the ’40s, scrap dreams cut out with kitchen scissors.
I can’t bring myself to get rid of her paper doll books. Maybe one day they’ll become art. Maybe they already are.
What Trio Teaches Us Now
As I write this, Trio is spinning on Mama’s old turntable, a little crackle where the past peeks through. Miss Sally, my newest porch stray, lounges nearby, letting those harmonies pour through her, and the walls.
This is what women do: we stitch scraps into something lasting. Mama did it with paper dolls and roses in her Georgia garden. Dolly, Linda, and Emmylou did it with mountain songs and west-coast echoes. And maybe I’m doing it now — telling stories, planting wildflowers, keeping a porchlight on for every stray dream that shows up hungry (and pregnant!).
Dolly, Linda, and Emmylou released Trio II in 1999, recorded earlier but delayed for years by label fights again (some things never change!). And you can find a gorgeous compilation called The Complete Trio Collection if you want all the sessions and unreleased gems.
When you drop that Trio record on the turntable, think about how all three of those women were told they couldn’t do it: “You’re too different.” “It won’t sell.” “Women don’t do that together.” They did it anyway — their way — and the world made room.
Next time Susan, Mark, and I get loose on Cherry Street, who knows what we’ll find? A dusty gospel record? A Macon soul gem? I’m crossing my fingers for some Otis, Percy, and Red Clay Strays on vinyl!!
I’ll keep the porchlight on for that kind of trio any day!
About the Author
Cindi Brown is a Georgia-born writer, porch-sitter, and teller of truths — even the ones her mama once pinched her for saying out loud. She runs Porchlight Press from her 1895 house with creaking floorboards and an open door for stories with soul. When she’s not scribbling about Southern music, small towns, stray cats, places she loves, and the wild gospel that hums in red clay soil, you’ll find her out listening for the next thing worth saying.
