Dear Mom it is the festival season
About the time September hits, my calendar fills up quickly. There are only 8 or 9 weekends in which I must fit a years worth of festivals. Some people have favorite events to go to, I have favorite months. With the possible exception of Saint Patrick’s Day season, a holiday that needs more than one day to properly celebrate, this is truly my favorite time of year. Thousands of years ago our ancestors would finish with the Autumn harvest and gather in conclaves to celebrate the good fortune of the lands bounty and have one last party before cloistering themselves over the winter. Today remnants of those early festivals still linger in small towns across the world and reflect our agrarian roots.
I didn’t truly get it when I was a kid. Though I remember a few events that seemed to wander into my busy childhood schedule around Halloween, I never really understood what they meant. I don’t recall if you were dragging me to these things because you thought they would be fun for kids or because there was some deeper meaning behind it.
Either way, today I still consider those early outings as the roots of my current obsession. I decorate the house with pumpkins and autumn leaves. Spiced candles fill the air with a feeling of warmth. Outside my marigolds give their last autumn colored blooms before falling asleep for the winter. How can anyone not be submersed in the season.
And so every weekend I pack my sweater and head off to the next adventure. Harvest festivals, pumpkin festivals, wine festivals, and Irish festivals. Yes, Irish festivals, combine my favorite festival season with my favorite music, you get a killer combination. Claire does not truly understand what is going on, but she falls asleep every Sunday blissfully exhausted. Many years from now I imagine she will take part in the calendar planning. Help me pack the picnic basket and carefully put all the wine glasses in their place so they will not break on the way.
4-6 festivals in 9 weeks is just about adequate. Any less and you are really slacking on the job. I look forward to every Autumn and a new event to add to the calendar. Some will become annual outings and some will just be that once to see what it was like and to say you did it. Both are memorable and deserving of the effort.
When I take the pumpkins down at the end of November to make room for the Christmas tree I can’t help but feel a tinge of longing for the next Autumn.
Love Mike
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Dear Mom I had a great weekend
Dear Mom I had a great weekend
It was one of those weekends you hope will happen but you can not really plan for. I still remember the first time you came up with the idea of Hermann Missouri for a weekend. You were all excited about the romantic notion of spending the day sitting around in a vineyard drinking wine. Soaking in the last of the Autumn warmth, watching the leaves change, listening to according music and sharing some wonderful moments with friends. You hope every year will be better than the last but you can never count on it.
I owe it to you that I never meet a stranger. There are some circumstances that make the notion easier than others but Octoberfest is a prime example of how easy it is to make friends. Sipping on wine can lead to a nice level of comfort and happiness that is very conducive to meeting new people.
Accompanied with spending time with old friends the time you spend with the new ones is that much more special. You talk about things you have in common and things you don’t. You share stories about your kids and reflect on how times have changed.
The slight breeze and smell of Autumn sets a stage that few things can match. The leaves softly falling off the trees send glints of sunlight that twinkle in the afternoon as you drain yet another bottle of wine. By the time the afternoon has passed and you can see the hints of evening falling in long shadows around you, you shake your head disappointingly at the setting sun and say goodbye.
Maybe you will see them next year. Maybe they will actually send an email much as you have heard in years before. Either way you have one more reason to never miss that first weekend in October.
Sudden Light
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot telll.
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
the sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before
How long ago I may not know;
But just when at the swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall I knew it all of yore
has this been thus before?
and shall not thus time's edying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Love Mike
It was one of those weekends you hope will happen but you can not really plan for. I still remember the first time you came up with the idea of Hermann Missouri for a weekend. You were all excited about the romantic notion of spending the day sitting around in a vineyard drinking wine. Soaking in the last of the Autumn warmth, watching the leaves change, listening to according music and sharing some wonderful moments with friends. You hope every year will be better than the last but you can never count on it.
I owe it to you that I never meet a stranger. There are some circumstances that make the notion easier than others but Octoberfest is a prime example of how easy it is to make friends. Sipping on wine can lead to a nice level of comfort and happiness that is very conducive to meeting new people.
Accompanied with spending time with old friends the time you spend with the new ones is that much more special. You talk about things you have in common and things you don’t. You share stories about your kids and reflect on how times have changed.
The slight breeze and smell of Autumn sets a stage that few things can match. The leaves softly falling off the trees send glints of sunlight that twinkle in the afternoon as you drain yet another bottle of wine. By the time the afternoon has passed and you can see the hints of evening falling in long shadows around you, you shake your head disappointingly at the setting sun and say goodbye.
Maybe you will see them next year. Maybe they will actually send an email much as you have heard in years before. Either way you have one more reason to never miss that first weekend in October.
Sudden Light
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot telll.
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
the sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before
How long ago I may not know;
But just when at the swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall I knew it all of yore
has this been thus before?
and shall not thus time's edying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Love Mike
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