2020 (Ben Folds)

[thanks to my daughter Sarah for this most perfect meme!]


It's the last day of July, significant in that normally (ha, I don't think that word means what you think it means, Susan!), I would be attending the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival in The Berkshires.  Except that we talked about going to the New Bedford Folk Festival instead... and now both plans are moot... null... kaput.  Anne and Bub, the powers-that-be at FRFF have actually managed to present it online this year, starting at 1:30 p.m. today.  As someone said in the chat of Dar's livestreaming concert last night, "I won't miss the porta-potties and/or the mud", but it will be fun to pop in over the course of the weekend to enjoy the music and community, virtual though it is.  Also, my friend Sheila (who I've known and loved forever, and watched her girls grow into beautiful and kind young women), whose husband Bob volunteers for the parking crew, sent this brilliant and hilarious video... 😄

Had a lovely walk with my friend Dave Wednesday evening, and he gave me some chives from his garden, the better to vegan-cream-cheese-and-bagel with, my dear!  Great phone chat with my sister on the way home, which continued another hour sitting in my car in my condo parking lot.

Yesterday was another perfect beach day with Nancy and SusanP.  Not to jinx it, but we always manage to have perfect weather.  Ack, speaking of... there is some sort of crazy hurricane watch in effect for this weekend, a name whose pronunciation is difficult and counter-intuitive.  What?!?  Anyway, sounds like it won't make it past a Category 1, and we do have a stockpile of supplies, but hoping for the best... and I will update on Monday.

Wonderful livestreaming concert with Dar Williams last night, Histories and Mysteries.  It's archived, if you missed it! 

Taking dinner to my former UUCFL minister and her husband this afternoon.  They were in a tragic car accident earlier this month (Rev. Susan's mom was killed), and I wanted to do something.  For Italians, food is our love language... 💓

NR:  The Second Home by Christina Clancy.  Not very far in, but already enjoying... :-)

So, it is indeed Feel Good Friday.  As is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!

~  ‘The Moms Are Here’: ‘Wall of Moms’ Groups Mobilize Nationwide:  The movement that started with a few dozen moms in Portland now has offshoots in cities across the country. (I loved the idea and the intention but now, two days after this article was published/updated, there seems to be controversy.  Such a shame!)


~ From Bob Dylan to The Beatles: 8 songs horror hero Stephen King couldn’t live without:  There are few more imposing names in the world of horror, both on-screen and off, than the extraordinary writer Stephen King. A huge figure in the world of film, King’s works have always been underpinned by the expert use of music. But what were King’s most cherished songs?


~  GEE, ANTHONY FAUCI!:  A Randy Rainbow Song Parody (thanks to SusanP for the heads-up!).


~  Without Music, Tanglewood Is Empty, Eerie and Beautiful:  The usually tourist-packed Berkshires confronts a season without the music festival that anchors its summers.


~ Danny Schmidt and Carrie Elkin, Online Together, Saturday (tomorrow!), August 1, 2020 - 2pm CDT, Facebook Live:  Once a month, Carrie and I have been trying to do a full show of our own, swapping songs back and forth, and singing harmonies with one another. The shows are totally free to watch (though donations are much appreciated) and usually last about an hour and a half. We try and mix up the sets so they're very different shows each time. We hope you'll come join in the festivities!


SONG:  2020 by Ben Folds

BOOK:  What Time Is It? by John Berger, Selçuk Demirel (Illustrator), Maria Nadotti (Introduction)

POEM:  a homeopathic remedy for longing** by Maya Stein

Return to the edge of the ravaged garden, vines stripped while you slept.
Stand mute at the piles you keep adding onto, the leftovers you keep forgetting, 
the trash can that keeps filling and filling and filling. Pause in the brute light 
of unmet plans, the rusty edge of old wounds, the plaintive vacancy of what you 
didn’t say and didn’t do when you had the chance. Roll these losses in your hands. 
Steep in the tea of the stain that follows you everywhere. Gather regret’s knotty fibers 
to your body and enrobe your bones in the steely wool of dread. And now,
now that you’re nearly buried by your own blight, pitch your heart to the sea. Watch it
bobble and weave in an unseen current, tip and tumble as the wind rakes through.
Remember, there is no right answer to where you are going, except forward.

**I borrowed this title from an Instagram post by photographer and writer Lisa Field.

QUOTE:  "What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us." ~ Henry David Thoreau

Disorder in the House (Warren Zevon)

I am still here, although it's been three months since I've checked in with my blog - I'd like to say I'm okay... but that would not be true. July 19 is the one-year anniversary of my mom's passing - I have spent the last two months re-tracing my steps as to what I was doing this time last year (caregiving since mid-May). Today feels like a destination of sorts, of raw grief and the beginnings of healing - I have allowed myself minor meltdowns in these last 24 hours but, as soon as I hit Publish Post, I will get in the jacuzzi and weep until I am empty...

Today also marks eight years since Dave Carter died - I am exhausted, I am sad, I am bone-weary... and I leave for Falcon Ridge (by way of Boston) in a few hours. I will only get a few hours sleep - it is now 5 a.m. although, for clarity's sake, this post is dated yesterday to honor The Day of the Dead...

I had grand plans for this post, and it has fizzled along with my energy level - my annual festival beckons, and with it a promise of rejuvenation and regrouping and renewal. I have to snap out of this emotional chaos, and surrounding myself with music friends is a lovely first step - Mom and Dave would want it that way... and I trust them to lead me on the path to, as my friend Myra says, "the new normal" (sigh)...

SONG: Disorder in the House by Warren Zevon

BOOK: The Shadow Effect: Illuminating the Hidden Power of Your True Self by Deepak Chopra, Marianne Williamson, Debbie Ford

POEM: The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart by Deborah Digges

The wind blows
through the doors of my heart.
It scatters my sheet music
that climbs like waves from the piano, free of the keys.
Now the notes stripped, black butterflies,
flattened against the screens.
The wind through my heart
blows all my candles out.
In my heart and its rooms is dark and windy.
From the mantle smashes birds' nests, teacups
full of stars as the wind winds round,
a mist of sorts that rises and bends and blows
or is blown through the rooms of my heart
that shatters the windows,
rakes the bedsheets as though someone
had just made love. And my dresses
they are lifted like brides come to rest
on the bedstead, crucifixes,
dresses tangled in trees in the rooms
of my heart. To save them
I've thrown flowers to fields,
so that someone would pick them up
and know where they came from.
Come the bees now clinging to flowered curtains.
Off with the clothesline pinning anything, my mother's trousseau.
It is not for me to say what is this wind
or how it came to blow through the rooms of my heart.
Wing after wing, through the rooms of the dead
the wind does not blow. Nor the basement, no wheezing,
no wind choking the cobwebs in our hair.
It is cool here, quiet, a quilt spread on soil.
But we will never lie down again.

QUOTE: "Like cars in amusement parks, our direction is often determined through collisions." ~ Yahia Lababidi

Some Great Thing (Vance Gilbert)

First and foremost… I {heart} galoshes – but I digress… :-)

To paraphrase, even a bad day at Falcon Ridge is better than a good day anywhere else – it was most certainly a long weekend of extreme pendulum swings… and we managed to weather (pun absolutely intended) it with grace and style.

Getting to the airport 90 minutes before my flight Tuesday morning, I found it to be cancelled – they managed to get me on another plane, routing through Atlanta (with a long layover), arriving 5 hours later than my intended 2:30 p.m. ETA. No worries – my dear friend Stephen/Mosh was there to pick me up and sweep me away to the amazing seafood restaurant we went to last year (do it twice and it’s a tradition), where I had lobster bisque, mussels and a glass of Pinot Grigio.

Wednesday morning found us segueing from Joan and Ed’s Deli for lunch to Newberry Comics in search of cinnamon Penguins (out of stock), then on to Target and Trader Joe’s for last-minute trip supplies, including bungee cords (for my exploding-out-of-the-box tent), crunchy green beans, sparkling sake and green tea mints. Continued downpours slowed our journey, and we arrived in Hillsdale about 5:30 p.m., where we saw Amy Putnam and the amazing Chris Chin (who had already staked out Camp Dar… a.k.a. Peace Branch Horse and Bible Camp) – the roads were too muddy to drive up, so we carried our camping gear up the hill and a small break in the rain allowed us to set up.

After much discussion, it was decided we couldn’t *not* do Dinner at the Diner, despite our fewer numbers (Chris, Jen T., Joanne, Candy, Stephen and I) and the lateness of the hour – so glad we did, as the owner and “our” waitress were delighted to see us (yes to tomatoes this year). Back to Falcon Ridge and more rain – it was at this point I unpacked and donned my (inspired by Meg and Kate last year) Target galoshes.

We decided to pack a small overnight bag and trudge back up to camp - considering the mud was ankle deep, the rainboots easily transformed from fashion statement to function. “I {heart} galoshes”, I squealed, to which Stephen responded, “when did heart become a verb?”, stating that both the New York Times and Boston Globe had validated - someone walking by overheard us and was distressed, because the media had usurped their Internet speak (gotta love grammar geeks!). Lovely to have a short song circle, with Sharon Girlock and Jessie (and Jim, Reinhard and Cami) joining us at this point – lots of lightninging (sic) and more rain (imagine that).

Since I gave up coffee (I should have warned you to sit down!) over a month ago, Stephen suggested I begin Thursday morning by apologizing in advance to my favorite vendor for single-handedly putting him out of business – however, when I saw he carried yerba mate (my new favorite caffeine substitute), I knew all would be right with the world (especially since my galoshes made an encore appearance this day as well). Since my favorite food vendor wasn’t yet open, I opted for a Benevolent Burrito (I can change and adapt). Nice to see Gene and Isabel and their friend Jim… and Sheila, Bob and their beautiful babies – there was another Camp Dar song circle, with sparkling sake passed around (and much lower temps!). I hear Sally and Laura and Gail and Jen have arrived but don’t see them until the following morning – Camp Dar grows larger and more familiar…

The Artist Showcase officially kicked off Friday, and it was wonderful to see Danny Schmidt receive such a warm response (finally saw sharong later that afternoon and we did our usual mile-a-minute catch-up) – I lived life on the edge and got a combined Colorado/Wildcat Wrap. Loved the Beatles workshop (Blackbird on Lindsay Mac’s cello) - very cool to see ASL interpreter Jodi wearing a cape Maura Kennedy had put on her during the Strangelings set – the John/Eliza/Patty/Vance songswap was great. Stephen and I wandered up to the BudgieDome later to hear the newest SuperGroup (Anthony DaCosta, Abbie Gardner, Amy Speace… backed by Rad Lorcavic and Eric Lee) - Anthony: “more Rad in the monitor, please”… :-)

Saturday’s Love and Other Tragedies workshop stage sported a marriage proposal (down on one knee), aided and abetted by Katryna and Nerissa – it paved the way for more weeping during Janis Ian’s Society’s Child workshop, as she spoke of her mother’s declining health (a situation I can relate to all too easily these days). As I met Janis to get my book signed, she saw my Peace Love Anarchy hat and declared she and Todd Snider were e-mail buddies – knock me over with the proverbial feather. Wonderful to stumble across We’re About 9’s (duo) set on Vendor Row – I jumped out at Dan Pelletier for a change (rather than our standard M.O. of the other way around).

Hooray for Graham, Becky and Molly making it – ah, history. How could Dar top last year’s Iowa? – by bringing even *more* children onto the mainstage to witness the dark transformed by lights. Loved being able to hear three of the new songs – nice surprise to see Jake Armerding (Julie: “he’s dreamy”) performing with Eddie From Ohio. Martin Sexton was an entertaining powerhouse – our planned Camp Dar song circle was derailed by more rain, as we all got inside our tents just in time for a Haunting of Hill House breathing walls and electrical light storm experience.

Sunday morning was the Dave Carter Song Circle (hard to believe it’s been 6 years) and the Gospel Wake-Up Call – we went back to camp to break down and had everything packed in Sharon and Jessie’s van (except my tent) before the rain started (not again!). Over to mainstage to hear Tracy’s set (finally got to see Tina) as the rain comes down harder – they stop the music halfway through and we attempt to wait it out. The rain, coming down harder still, turns to hail and we are unceasingly and quite painfully pelted (ouch!) – festival staff finally makes us leave the hill and we retreat to Stephen’s car, learning later that the festival is declared over. We rescue my bent, bowed yet still-standing tent… and I realize I am officially ginger-ice-cream-less and Popeye-quesadilla-less – so sad…

We get to Four Brothers Pizza quite a few hours before our usual post-fest time frame – you’d think I’d learn to expect the birthday pie by now.. but I am always pleasantly surprised. We call Megan from the parking lot and tell her we missed her – goodbyes all around as we head our separate ways. We arrive at Stephen’s to find The Wizard of Oz on his HDTV – I marvel at the clarity of color… and fall asleep to “you’ve always had the power”.

Monday was my baby Eric’s birthday (20!) and we set up my tent in Stephen’s yard to dry out while we make another Trader Joe’s run and hit Fireflies barbeque (another tradition) for lunch - on to the airport for goodbyes and tears and promises of return, oh my!).

I {heart} Chris Chin. I {heart} Stephen. I {heart} ice cream for dinner. I {heart} Funny Money, even if it is soggy. I {heart} the teaser of an almost-played Love Shack on the workshop stage. I {heart} Jack Hardy’s Worst President Ever song. I {heart} my new dragonfly tattoo. Oh… and did I say I {heart} galoshes?... :-)

Related articles here and here...

SONG: Some Great Thing by Vance Gilbert

BOOK: Hailstones and Halibut Bones by Mary O'Neill, John Wallner (illustrator)

POEM: may my heart always be open... by e. e. cummings

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

QUOTE: "The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself." ~ Henry Miller

Beautiful World (Eliza Gilkyson)

I am beyond excited... in that I am leaving for the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival first thing tomorrow morning - last year's preview and review posts pretty much sum it up!

This will be FRFF's 20th anniversary... and my 10th - in addition to dear Dar Williams, artists performing are Janis Ian, Patty Larkin, Tracy Grammer, the above-mentioned Eliza Gilkyson... and so many others. I am delighted that Danny Schmidt has been chosen for the Artist Showcase - there will also be a Dave Carter song circle early Sunday morning... and, despite my probable lack of sleep, I will most definitely be there...

SONG: Beautiful World by Eliza Gilkyson

BOOK: A History of Folk Music Festivals in the United States: Feasts of Musical Celebration by Norm Cohen

POEM: Not to Sleep by Robert Graves

Not to sleep all the night long, for pure joy,

Counting no sheep and careless of chimes

Welcoming the dawn confabulation

Of birds, her children, who discuss idly

Fanciful details of the promised coming —

Will she be wearing red, or russet, or blue,

Or pure white?—whatever she wears, glorious:

Not to sleep all the night long, for pure joy,

This is given to a few but at last to me,

So that when I laugh and stretch and leap from bed

I shall glide downstairs, my feet brushing the carpet

In courtesy to civilized progression,

Though, did I wish, I could soar through the open window

And perch on a branch above, acceptable ally

Of the birds still alert, grumbling gently together.

QUOTE: "In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, for in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." ~ Kahlil Gibran

Fantastic Planet of Love (Marshall Crenshaw)

I'm baaaaaaaack! - here follows my post-FRFF post to the Dar-list:

Hello, All - I'm still a bit discombobulated (in a good way, Martha!) and felt my story best told in stream-of-consciousness snippets - thanks to all who once again lifted my spirit and carried my heart... up the hills, through the rain and under the blazing sun... <3

Tuesday, 7/24 - Ft. Lauderdale to Boston... Logan Airport... Stephen/Mosh!... my tent and sleeping bag (which I'd purposely left behind) in the trunk... excitement he had already packed them turned to hilarity they were *still* there from last year... Logan the cat... seafood bisque... air mattress on the floor...

Wednesday, 7/25 - Target run for last-minute essentials... Panera foccacia... our first JT ritual (Jethro Tell's Aqualung)... Mass Pike... Revere Lynn... Tanglewood... Stockbridge... the Great Barrington K-Mart and Amy!... Hillsdale... Dodds Farm... Peace Branch Horse and Bible Camp... Chris Chin!... Reinhard!... it takes a village to set up a tent... Jim G!... Jen T.!... dinner at the diner... what, no tomatoes?!?... Candy and Joanne!... Happy Ice... Sharon G. and Jessie!... Camp Dar song circle... The Carpenters... Santa Dave (Sam and Dave?)... Cami!... Carrot Juice is Murder... Tangled Up in Blue... butt-sucking the moisture from our chairs... Girlock Gone Wild...

Thursday, 7/26 - iced hazelnut... finding Laurie and Dana's RV... chai freeze... monster veggie skinny pancake... if it's Thursday it must be Colorado wrap... Kahlua chunk ice cream... the Lovell Sisters (and middle child syndrome)... Marshall Crenshaw's hipster vibe... the Budgiedome with David Massengill, Jack Hardy, Iain Campbell Smith and our very own Nick and Elizabeth...

Friday, 7/27 - iced hazelnut... Annie Wenz!... Emerging Artist Showcase (wow!)... sharong!, with pink donuts and Buzz Cola and Krusty-O's (oh my!) for Mosh... if it's Friday it must be tempeh reuben... Gene and Isabel!... Twisting and Shouting at the Beatles Forever workshop... Tina!... Jitterz ice cream... Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers (a.k.a. mainstage gymnastics event) who discover that, at FRFF, the accordion is not a novelty instrument... songswap delayed by heavy rain and intermittent lightning... when Mary Gauthier, graduate from the School of Hard Knocks, looks worried, we should be too!... three new Richard songs, including a ten-years-after follow-up to She's Leaving Home, performed at the Beatles tribute... early bedtime due to canopy collapse...

Saturday, 7/28 - tarp meander... back in the tent just in time to fall asleep to more rain... iced hazelnut... early downpour at the Musica Internationale workshop (hooray for sharong's WFUV ponchos)... Candy's birthday Pop-Tart ritual... Tracy Grammer and Jim Henry's great set, with a second annual DTS (Dare to Suck) selection, this year George Michael's Faith... Like a Rolling Stone... neon green polka band covering Over the Rainbow... watching Dar watch (and enjoy) Ellis during the songwriting process (Alleluia meets How Would It Be)... Gimme Some Truth (and three chords?)... exchanging birthday cards, presents and tears with Megan!... Gandalf Murphy's Circus calls Dar (their four-doors-down neighbor) to assist with song by Muslim songwriter (a.k.a. Peace Train)... Dar asking our help in making magic for her three-year-old Stephen (the lights of Iowa)... EFO's carp in the bathtub... ice cream tent closed so apple and cheese crepe instead... Love is Strange(ling)... the road less traveled (euphemism for early bedtime) but lived vicariously through others' adventures...

Sunday, 7/29 - parodies of Naked Folk (Fans) Calendar... "Our Shoots are Rowing" workshop with the Dust Poets... Gospel Wake-Up Call... tent village breakdown at noon... Meg and Kate (with Devin) modeling their galoshes... many group photos around the banner... We Are the Others... Abbie's "I smell like a hippie" quip... Good Year for the Roses (harmonies abounding)... falafel for lunch... Richard and Lucy swapping songs on mainstage... ice cream choices dropping like flies as we stand in line (my Moose Trails is poop-deprived)... Arlo doing Woody's small peace song... Never Turning Back... table for 20 at Four Brothers Pizza... my usual gyro with fries... flush toilet!... running water!... mirror (yikes!)... the traditional, yet never taken for granted, birthday pie... blessings to you all as I turn 53 (but feel 19 in spirit)... the other JT ritual (James Taylor, "the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston")... playing new CDs during the two-hour drive back to Framingham... Logan greets us with as much enthusiasm as a cat allows... one more night on an air mattress...

Monday, 7/30 - leftover Starbucks bottled mocha... birthday card, present and tears with Stephen... shower!!!... lunch with Herb and Gert... sweet potato chips, dark-chocolate-covered edamame and Falcon Ridge wine at Trader Joe's (supposedly opening a store in Florida in two or three years!)... back to Logan (the airport, not the cat)... more tears (equal amounts of residual joy and goodbye sadness)... writing notes on the plane... back to my own house (and husband and children and dog and jacuzzi and bed!)... typing and posting the next day...

Love to all - see you next year for my tenth... and the festival's twentieth (zippity... :-)

SONG: Fantastic Planet of Love by Marshall Crenshaw

BOOK: A State of Mind: The Falcon Ridge Folk Festival - Liz Carlisle's Harvard College Undergraduate Thesis, Department of Folklore and Mythology, Special Field in Ethnomusicology, March 23, 2006

POEM: Journey by Mark Strand

A journey continues until it stops

A journey that stops is no longer a journey

A journey loses things on its way

A journey passes through things, things pass through it

When a journey is over, it loses itself to a place

When a journey remembers, it begins a journal

Which is a new journey about an old journey

A journey over time is different from a journey into time

An actual journey is into the future

A reflective journey is into the past

A journey always begins in a place called Here

Pack your bags and imagine your journey

Unpack your bags and imagine your journey is done

If you're afraid of a journey, don't buy shoes

QUOTE: "How does one keep from "growing old inside"? Surely only in community. The only way to make friends with time is to stay friends with people…. Taking community seriously not only gives us the companionship we need, it also relieves us of the notion that we are indispensable." ~ Robert McAfee Brown

Traveling Again (Dar Williams)

Your Horoscope for JULY 24, 2007

Today, SUSAN, you may appear to be blocked on all sides. Beloved projects may be put on hold; mix-ups at work might have you worrying about your job; romantic matters also seem to be stalled. It's times like this when you need to get away from it all and try to recoup your energies and get your thoughts together. Get in the car and take a short trip out of town, preferably by yourself.

How f*cking funny - I was planning to do just that... :-)

Leaving in an hour for the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival (see previous post) - back late Monday, July 30!

SONG: Traveling Again by Dar Williams

BOOK: Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott

POEM: The Clause by C. K. Williams

This entity I call my mind, this hive of restlessness,

this wedge of want my mind calls self,

this self which doubts so much and which keeps reaching,

keeps referring, keeps aspiring, longing, towards some state

from which ambiguity would be banished, uncertainty expunged;

this implement my mind and self imagine they might make together,

which would have everything accessible to it,

all our doings and undoings all at once before it,

so it would have at last the right to bless, or blame,

for without everything before you, all at once, how bless, how blame?

this capacity imagination, self and mind conceive might be the "soul,"

which would be able to regard such matters as creation and

destruction,

origin and extinction, of species, peoples, even families, even mine,

of equal consequence, and might finally solve the quandary

of this thing of being, and this other thing of not;

these layers, these divisions, these meanings or the lack thereof,

these fissures and abysses beside which I stumble, over which I reel:

is the place, the space, they constitute,

which I never satisfactorily experience but from which the fear

I might be torn away appalls me, me, or what might most be me?

Even mine, I say, as if I might ever believe such a thing;

bless and blame, I say, as though I could ever not.

This ramshackle, this unwieldy, this jerry-built assemblage,

this unfelt always felt disarray: is this the sum of me,

is this where I'm meant to end, exactly where I started out?

QUOTE: "One doesn't discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." ~ Andre Gide

Beware the Killer Tents (Moxy Fruvous)

I do not even know where to begin to describe the feelings/memories/sensations regarding the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival - to quote Joni, it is "in my blood like holy wine". This will be my *ninth* year - seems like forever... and just yesterday at the same time.

I became a fan of singer-songwriter Dar Williams and subscribed to her online discussion group in July 1997 (hey, I just realized it's been ten years this month!) - I would read posts about the festival that summer and the next with complete envy, wishing that one day I would be able to join everyone. In the meantime, I had begun e-mail friendships with a few people through the list - when the opportunity presented itself for me to attend FRFF 1999, I jumped (metaphorically speaking!).

It was amazing to finally put faces to names and spend a three- (now four-) day weekend with people who shared the importance of music, values and traditions - whether Dar is performing or not (this year she is!), we have a Camp Dar/Dar Camp/Damp Car area which can attract as few as 30 or as many as 100. My routine is to fly into Boston on Tuesday and meet up with a friend who lives there - we make the 3-hour-ish drive to Hillsdale New York the next day, arriving mid-afternoon to set up our tents. We count on dinner at the diner the Wednesday night before and a Sunday evening decompression at Four Brothers Pizza after the festival - there are song circles, loaves-and-fishes brownies and hugs abounding. I have a favorite food vendor and a preferred coffee tent and I, so used to an overflowing Day-Timer, pride myself on going into non-decision-making mode for the entire festival. Oh okay, I do have to choose between coconut almond and expresso (we have ice cream for dinner every night)... and the pesto quesadilla or the tempeh reuben - talk about win/win... :-)

As I explained to "the people back home", going to Falcon Ridge that first year and meeting other Dar-listers was akin to attending a reunion of people I felt I knew intimately, but had never seen before - oh, the blessings for this lovely extended family (which continues to grow each year... <3>

I jokingly say that Falcon Ridge is chiseled in stone on my life calendar and, if I'm not there, I'm dead - actually, I'm serious...

SONG: Beware the Killer Tents by Moxy Fruvous

BOOK: Deep Community: Adventures in the Modern Folk Underground (Paperback) by Scott Alarik, photos by Robert Corwin

POEM: The Prayer by Richard Jackson

Blessed be the year climbing its cliffs, the month crossing the fields
of hours and days, the bridges of minutes, the grass where we stood
that first moment, the festival music keeping our time, the hood
of the season's sky above us, the moment's fictive shield
against history, her tattered glance, her broken smile, everything real
or imagined, bless the rivers I invented to carry us, the woods
I planted as our own, bless even the sweet hurt, even the herd
of stars that trample my real heart which she has taught to heal.
Blessed be these trackless words running downstream
following the remote valleys she has cut through my life,
and blessed be the sounds they cannot make, but mean,
and blessed be all these pages watermarked with her name,
these thoughts that wander the unmapped roads of strife
and love, her blessed world whose dream is always a dream.

QUOTE: "We are all longing to go home to some place we have never been — a place half-remembered and half-envisioned we can only catch glimpses of from time to time. Community. Somewhere, there are people to whom we can speak with passion without having the words catch in our throats. Somewhere a circle of hands will open to receive us, eyes will light up as we enter, voices will celebrate with us whenever we come into our own power. Community means strength that joins our strength to do the work that needs to be done. Arms to hold us when we falter. A circle of healing. A circle of friends. Someplace where we can be free." ~ Starhawk