Common Ground
Jul. 10th, 2006 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellyssianSo, in bed at 2am Sunday morning, up at 4am. A highlight of waking up that early in this case was that, about an hour later, I got to call somebody else and wake them up. Right before leaving the house, I gave ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kk1raven a wake-up call.
The drive to and from was enjoyable - a number of interesting discussions, morphing from one topic to another, and wandering all over the realm of possibilities. Wildlife featured heavily on the ride - whether it was the turtle we drove *over* or the groundhog that used a crosswalk, there was interesting happenings in either direction. The turtle was sitting out in the middle of the road, too afraid to move. Lucky for him, he didn't bolt when we drove over him... unfortunately for him, he chose a location where we would be the roadkill if we stopped to help him out. As for the groundhog, as we stopped for a light on PA 30 E, he was hoofing (or pawing?) it across the road. Must have waited for the light and bolted for it. Kept looking at the cars stopped inches away, hoping that they weren't the typical roll-until-the-back-wheels-are-on-the-line PA drivers. He breathed a sigh of relief once he made it to the other side.
The highlight of the day as far as other species went (and this is including theunholy offspring of llamas and giant poodles alpacas at the festival, the sheep that accompanied the hammered dulcimer jam, and the rooster that sang along =), though, had to be slowing down as we dipped into one valley... gathering there, right on the side of the road were about six horse, the seventh running from the woods, crossing in front of the stopped traffic, and then running along side. The other half dozen looked intently at us - kk1raven thought about snapping a picture, but they were actually a bit too close, and looking perhaps a bit too curious and friendly - they'd likely expect a treat, not a camera, which certainly wouldn't taste as good.
One of the curious things we noticed on the ride down was the perverse usage of plentiful, clear, easy-to-read, absofrickenlutely beautiful signs that warned you about every cross street before you got there. Bing! In 378 feet, you will come to Pretty Boy Dam Road. All very nice, and how, exactly, is that perverse - well, not considering the name of the street itself... The only streets without advance warning, pre-road signs were the ones we needed to take.
The streets we needed to take did some of the most twisted, evil turns possible. Imagine coming to a T in a road. You can read a road sign showing the name of the cross road, but your directions imply coming to a place where the road changes from Mt. Caramel to Lower Somethingberryorother and this road is *not* named Lower Anything. After pulling over, we finally saw that the other side of the cross road was, in fact, the same road as we were on. Boom. Come to a halt. Take a sharp left. Oy.
Pretty Boy Dam Road. What's up with that? Where do they come up with names for roads? A couple of oddities popped up, but for a while we noticed the German section, followed by the English... Not really sure what they were thinking, but the street names off of Mt. Caramel were just, erm, off the map.
Bothkk1raven and yrs. truly tend to be early. tewok and his wife were the first act of the morning, going onstage at 10am. So Katrina and I each added an extra hour to our time of departure, because if we missed even a tiny fraction of Wayne and Jo's set the whole point of the venture would be missed. We got there between 8-8:30am. More talking on various subjects, some bird IDs and discussion of a tree ID (which I didn't remember to get a better view of once we got inside...)
Any time you're out around large quantities of Joe Q. Public you see interesting people. Characters, you might call them. Like the guy who parked next to us. Picture, first off, a shaved-low Santa. The red shorts, red shirt, and portly belly just add to that image, as did the red sleigh overloaded with gifts... okay, so it was a red import, filled with all manner of things - brooms, boxes, clothes, and I don't know what else; mostly loose items piled to the ceiling in the entire back seat and in the passenger seat. Sitting in the car next to us, and I still could not see the driver. Thought he was a young kid, until he got out. Wondered who he was talking to, until I saw him doing so wandering by himself, walking about the festival with books, newspapers, and other things propped up on his sizable stomach... yep, a character.
Speaking of characters, a mocking bird entertained us while we waited by entertaining thoughts of chasing away the cards invading his domain...
Once inside, we found the correct stage fairly quickly - sure, we had a one in four chance of getting it right, but when I walked up the soundguy at the first stage beyond the restrooms, he acknowledged that it was the very stage we were looking for. Taking a seat on a picnic bench, we waited for the performers to arrive. Once both Wayne and Jo got there, and before they were too intent in the set-up, we wandered up to say hi, but they were already pretty sure who we were... especially because they had met Katrina before.
They played an excellent set - both very talented musicians - but the highlight for me was when Wayne dedicated a tune on the highland pipes for us, for getting up so early in the morning to drive down and see them. A lullaby. Yep. And he walked around into the audience, coming behind us and then stepping up onto the picnic table for a moment or two before stepping down and continuing the circuit. He realized after doing so that he was wearing hearing protection, while we had none - but after all my years with stacks of guitar amps and drums, I didn't have a problem with it and quite enjoyed it.
Of course, later on there was talk about piping table dancers. And topless. The conclusion of all that was quite obvious. People would pay to not see it. =)
After their set, Wayne said the next guy up was very good. Actually, it turned out that Scott Ainslie is not very good. He is actually very, very good. I rarely get that impressed by a guitarist. Good guitarists, yes. Impressive guitarists, yes. Some guys are even better than that, and Scott is in that category. His vocals were perfect as well - actually enjoyed them as much as the playing. The accompaniment of Fraser Speirs on harmonica - unplanned, the two hadn't played those tunes together before - made it work that much better.
There were quite a lot of talented musicians playing at the festival - I was really surprised there wasn't more of a turnout. The crafts and other tents had interesting things as well - plenty to spend lots of money. One thing I did spend money on was a pot for Rachel from Clay Monster. Another favorite stop was the instrument petting zoo. They had a classical there - only a Washburn, but still... someday I'll get a nylon string guitar, but I was very good Sunday, and did not come home with one. Or with a harp. Or mandolin. Or any other kind of stringed or otherwise instrument.
It was great to actually meet Wayne and Jo in person - strange, having written back and forth for a couple of years or so, to know someone so well, but not in person. That's the thing about TH. Even though we don't all agree on everything, there is a lot of common ground between us. As with the car ride, conversations jumped from one subject to another. A gathering of friends.
On the ride home, rain loomed. "Heavy at times" is what they'd call it. Nothing. Cloudburst. Nothing. Conversation jumped over to the rain gauge at the airport, which Katrina reported to be consistently out-of-whack with reality. And there it was, suddenly popped in my head. The guy in the red shirt and shorts and the car with more stuff in it than I have in my garage (and I have a two car garage with two aisles of walking space at the best of time) was holding the gauge in his hand, shuffling left and right, attempting to catch every rain drop and missing most of them...
...and that's about it, except for all the other cool, interesting, or odd things that happened, or, at the least, was discussed.
kk1raven a wake-up call.The drive to and from was enjoyable - a number of interesting discussions, morphing from one topic to another, and wandering all over the realm of possibilities. Wildlife featured heavily on the ride - whether it was the turtle we drove *over* or the groundhog that used a crosswalk, there was interesting happenings in either direction. The turtle was sitting out in the middle of the road, too afraid to move. Lucky for him, he didn't bolt when we drove over him... unfortunately for him, he chose a location where we would be the roadkill if we stopped to help him out. As for the groundhog, as we stopped for a light on PA 30 E, he was hoofing (or pawing?) it across the road. Must have waited for the light and bolted for it. Kept looking at the cars stopped inches away, hoping that they weren't the typical roll-until-the-back-wheels-are-on-the-line PA drivers. He breathed a sigh of relief once he made it to the other side.
The highlight of the day as far as other species went (and this is including the
kk1raven thought about snapping a picture, but they were actually a bit too close, and looking perhaps a bit too curious and friendly - they'd likely expect a treat, not a camera, which certainly wouldn't taste as good.One of the curious things we noticed on the ride down was the perverse usage of plentiful, clear, easy-to-read, absofrickenlutely beautiful signs that warned you about every cross street before you got there. Bing! In 378 feet, you will come to Pretty Boy Dam Road. All very nice, and how, exactly, is that perverse - well, not considering the name of the street itself... The only streets without advance warning, pre-road signs were the ones we needed to take.
The streets we needed to take did some of the most twisted, evil turns possible. Imagine coming to a T in a road. You can read a road sign showing the name of the cross road, but your directions imply coming to a place where the road changes from Mt. Caramel to Lower Somethingberryorother and this road is *not* named Lower Anything. After pulling over, we finally saw that the other side of the cross road was, in fact, the same road as we were on. Boom. Come to a halt. Take a sharp left. Oy.
Pretty Boy Dam Road. What's up with that? Where do they come up with names for roads? A couple of oddities popped up, but for a while we noticed the German section, followed by the English... Not really sure what they were thinking, but the street names off of Mt. Caramel were just, erm, off the map.
Both
kk1raven and yrs. truly tend to be early. tewok and his wife were the first act of the morning, going onstage at 10am. So Katrina and I each added an extra hour to our time of departure, because if we missed even a tiny fraction of Wayne and Jo's set the whole point of the venture would be missed. We got there between 8-8:30am. More talking on various subjects, some bird IDs and discussion of a tree ID (which I didn't remember to get a better view of once we got inside...)Any time you're out around large quantities of Joe Q. Public you see interesting people. Characters, you might call them. Like the guy who parked next to us. Picture, first off, a shaved-low Santa. The red shorts, red shirt, and portly belly just add to that image, as did the red sleigh overloaded with gifts... okay, so it was a red import, filled with all manner of things - brooms, boxes, clothes, and I don't know what else; mostly loose items piled to the ceiling in the entire back seat and in the passenger seat. Sitting in the car next to us, and I still could not see the driver. Thought he was a young kid, until he got out. Wondered who he was talking to, until I saw him doing so wandering by himself, walking about the festival with books, newspapers, and other things propped up on his sizable stomach... yep, a character.
Speaking of characters, a mocking bird entertained us while we waited by entertaining thoughts of chasing away the cards invading his domain...
Once inside, we found the correct stage fairly quickly - sure, we had a one in four chance of getting it right, but when I walked up the soundguy at the first stage beyond the restrooms, he acknowledged that it was the very stage we were looking for. Taking a seat on a picnic bench, we waited for the performers to arrive. Once both Wayne and Jo got there, and before they were too intent in the set-up, we wandered up to say hi, but they were already pretty sure who we were... especially because they had met Katrina before.
They played an excellent set - both very talented musicians - but the highlight for me was when Wayne dedicated a tune on the highland pipes for us, for getting up so early in the morning to drive down and see them. A lullaby. Yep. And he walked around into the audience, coming behind us and then stepping up onto the picnic table for a moment or two before stepping down and continuing the circuit. He realized after doing so that he was wearing hearing protection, while we had none - but after all my years with stacks of guitar amps and drums, I didn't have a problem with it and quite enjoyed it.
Of course, later on there was talk about piping table dancers. And topless. The conclusion of all that was quite obvious. People would pay to not see it. =)
After their set, Wayne said the next guy up was very good. Actually, it turned out that Scott Ainslie is not very good. He is actually very, very good. I rarely get that impressed by a guitarist. Good guitarists, yes. Impressive guitarists, yes. Some guys are even better than that, and Scott is in that category. His vocals were perfect as well - actually enjoyed them as much as the playing. The accompaniment of Fraser Speirs on harmonica - unplanned, the two hadn't played those tunes together before - made it work that much better.
There were quite a lot of talented musicians playing at the festival - I was really surprised there wasn't more of a turnout. The crafts and other tents had interesting things as well - plenty to spend lots of money. One thing I did spend money on was a pot for Rachel from Clay Monster. Another favorite stop was the instrument petting zoo. They had a classical there - only a Washburn, but still... someday I'll get a nylon string guitar, but I was very good Sunday, and did not come home with one. Or with a harp. Or mandolin. Or any other kind of stringed or otherwise instrument.
It was great to actually meet Wayne and Jo in person - strange, having written back and forth for a couple of years or so, to know someone so well, but not in person. That's the thing about TH. Even though we don't all agree on everything, there is a lot of common ground between us. As with the car ride, conversations jumped from one subject to another. A gathering of friends.
On the ride home, rain loomed. "Heavy at times" is what they'd call it. Nothing. Cloudburst. Nothing. Conversation jumped over to the rain gauge at the airport, which Katrina reported to be consistently out-of-whack with reality. And there it was, suddenly popped in my head. The guy in the red shirt and shorts and the car with more stuff in it than I have in my garage (and I have a two car garage with two aisles of walking space at the best of time) was holding the gauge in his hand, shuffling left and right, attempting to catch every rain drop and missing most of them...
...and that's about it, except for all the other cool, interesting, or odd things that happened, or, at the least, was discussed.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-12 12:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-12 12:46 pm (UTC)It's in Virginia.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-21 12:47 am (UTC)The pre-setup howdy helps. Mr. Scarlet (the guy in red you mentioned) has a habit of zooming up and Talking to performers as they're trying to get ready to perform. (Dunno Mr. Scarlet's real name; that's just what I've taken to calling him.)
Scott Ainslie is amazing. His playing, his singing, his choice of music, nothing to complain about.
Thanks again for making the long trek down.