What a great read, Leah. Little People sounds like a treat. My wandering about for hours days are over but this piece brought me back to a couple of magical weekends.
You do look like that woman in the bathroom.
I got married on August 15, 1969. The news started to trickle out of Woodstock that weekend. Nowadays everyone would know ahead of time and ruin everything.
Thank you for this. I’ve had a beastly headache for days and just the idea of Martha’s cranial sacral work relaxed me.
Mesmerizing and magical your essay. Many threads to tug. One must think on it. We all yearn for community and the calm, joy and love that good music in a beautiful space invigorates. I yearn for those brief moments when you feel as though the Gods are smiling on you because you found an idyllic little pocket in which to rediscover that which you thought lost. Old oak trees and sheep at dusk indeed. As for the loo incident…… hmmm. I like the foundling idea.
This is lovely and it reminded me of the thing I keep seeing on Instagram (I think) - a wall chart that tracks the weeks of one's life, all on one chart, and you black the dots as they pass. Absofuckinglutely not would I want that on my wall, with the majority already blacked out and the clock ticking on to the end. I want to float in the stream while I can, and feel the carp hit my leg, let my mind release all else but the music in the depth of a 15-minute piobaireachd, and feeling the slight vibration of drones on the shoulder. Enjoy your summer days.
I have seen those charts and they are one of the most sinister things I can imagine. What kind of psychopath counts the days down? Floating on the stream on the other hand...a joy.
Loved your descriptions here, Leah. Really got a sense of the joy in the aimless, and the creative mind awakening. You so captured Glastonbury. And maybe I'll join you here next year.
I'm going to five festivals this summer, including the Mariposa Folk Festival, which I first went to in 1965, when I met Joni Anderson, Leonard Cohen, Gordon Lightfoot, the Staple Singers, Phil Ochs and many more — all of whom widened my musical horizons in wondrous ways... I guess that I've been to some 200 festivals since. After Mariposa I go on to the Calgary Folk Festival, the Calgary Blues Festival, and major folk festivals in Canmore and Edmonton Alberta. So much music, so many friends — known and so far unknown. I know, at 90 I should stay home and vegetate — but this has been my summer for more than 60 years — too late to quit now!
What a great read, Leah. Little People sounds like a treat. My wandering about for hours days are over but this piece brought me back to a couple of magical weekends.
You do look like that woman in the bathroom.
I got married on August 15, 1969. The news started to trickle out of Woodstock that weekend. Nowadays everyone would know ahead of time and ruin everything.
Thank you for this. I’ve had a beastly headache for days and just the idea of Martha’s cranial sacral work relaxed me.
And your great story.😊
Mesmerizing and magical your essay. Many threads to tug. One must think on it. We all yearn for community and the calm, joy and love that good music in a beautiful space invigorates. I yearn for those brief moments when you feel as though the Gods are smiling on you because you found an idyllic little pocket in which to rediscover that which you thought lost. Old oak trees and sheep at dusk indeed. As for the loo incident…… hmmm. I like the foundling idea.
You sound like a fun woman to hang out with!
This is lovely and it reminded me of the thing I keep seeing on Instagram (I think) - a wall chart that tracks the weeks of one's life, all on one chart, and you black the dots as they pass. Absofuckinglutely not would I want that on my wall, with the majority already blacked out and the clock ticking on to the end. I want to float in the stream while I can, and feel the carp hit my leg, let my mind release all else but the music in the depth of a 15-minute piobaireachd, and feeling the slight vibration of drones on the shoulder. Enjoy your summer days.
I have seen those charts and they are one of the most sinister things I can imagine. What kind of psychopath counts the days down? Floating on the stream on the other hand...a joy.
Loved your descriptions here, Leah. Really got a sense of the joy in the aimless, and the creative mind awakening. You so captured Glastonbury. And maybe I'll join you here next year.
I'm going to five festivals this summer, including the Mariposa Folk Festival, which I first went to in 1965, when I met Joni Anderson, Leonard Cohen, Gordon Lightfoot, the Staple Singers, Phil Ochs and many more — all of whom widened my musical horizons in wondrous ways... I guess that I've been to some 200 festivals since. After Mariposa I go on to the Calgary Folk Festival, the Calgary Blues Festival, and major folk festivals in Canmore and Edmonton Alberta. So much music, so many friends — known and so far unknown. I know, at 90 I should stay home and vegetate — but this has been my summer for more than 60 years — too late to quit now!
Thanks Leah. I’m going to try to surrender to the uncertainty ♥️