Tag Festivals

Bridge for Sale

Michael Leave a comment

Labor Day has come and gone and you know what that means. No more white shoes or Seersucker! Uh, no. It’s the start of a new season. I don’t mean the change from unofficial summer to unofficial fall. What with meteorological autumn and astronomical autumn and autumnal equinox and the fall TVseason the last thing we need is any unofficial season. No, the period after Labor Day is the beginning of a new festival season.

Ok, those of you who have always suspected that I’m closing in on batty it’s probably official – or maybe even unofficial. I’ve been marking the seasons by the changes of festivals for years. Winter heralds holiday festivals, spring brings my beloved maple festivals, summer is the season for arts festivals, and fall is the time for covered bridge festivals. This should be nothing new for regular readers of RRSB. I’ve brought up the local covered bridge festival before. (See “Passages of Fall,” September 15, 2014.) (Come on, give me a little break. I’ve been doing this for almost five years. We’re going to revisit some things every now and then.)bridgeforsale

But let’s digress here for just a moment. Festivals have morphed terribly from the traditional definition. That is, “a day or time of religious or other celebration, marked by feasting, ceremonies, or other observances.” Modern festivals often include feasting, otherwise the corndog and kettle corn industries would be in shambles, but around here they’re known more for jamming as many hand-made and/or ersatz hand-made crafts, foods, clothes, and furniture into any open field and for the greatest concentration of the Square point of sale app per vendor per acre.

And that’s what I love about them! You can buy anything at a festival – and I have. Chain sawn eagle yard ornament? Bought one. Framed, numbered, signed pencil sketch? Bought one. Metal sculpted snowman family. Bought one. Commemorative newspaper front page parodying offspring’s eccentricity? Bought one. Hand-hammered silver jewelry ensemble featuring recycled place settings? Bought one.  Hand-made left-handed wooden kitchen utensil set? Bought one. Full scale carved wooden Jack-o-lantern? Bought two!

Oh sure, you can buy maple syrup at the maple festivals and real art at the arts festivals and traditional Christmas decorations at the holiday festivals. But you can get that stuff at lots of places. But where else can you find a four foot, hand carved, wading flamingo carrying a surfboard under its wing? What can I say? I live for kitsch.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

A Spring and a Miss

Michael Leave a comment

I missed the coldest winter we ever had and the snowiest February we ever had (I think or else it was really, really close). I didn’t mind that at all. But then Spring came and I kept on missing stuff. I sort of minded that.

We started out by missing the Home Show. I hadn’t missed a home show for probably a dozen years.  And I always bought something that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Odd looking but really cool holders for my herb pots on the deck. Lids of all sizes that really work to make my food storage cups useful again.  Of course there were other things we just got a good laugh out of like the $99 iron. Oh well,they’ll be back next year.

I also missed the Maple Festival. We’ve written about that before. It is THE PLACE to get your local syrup and honey.  No log cabins there, just the real stuff.

The local jazz festival changed venues and time this year.  They managed to schedule it right during my unavailable period. The nerve of them! It was at this festival a couple of years ago that She of We found a fellow high schooler now a featured jazz singer. Amazing how small the world really is.

There’s still quite a bit of Spring to go and every week the paper has pages of interesting things to see and do. I’ll just have to make sure to leave a little time available so I don’t miss it all. After all, what good is a Spring if you can’t connect with it?

That’s what I think. How ’bout you?

Passages of Fall

Michael 1 Comment

Over the past week He of We noticed fallen leaves in yards while meandering through the neighborhood on his afternoon walk, She of We talked about getting her garden ready for next Spring’s plantings, Daughter of He contemplated buying new snow tires, and stores everywhere have Halloween candy out.  All of them are sure signs Fall is soon here.  But the surest sign of Fall to come isn’t any of these, it isn’t the shortened days and cooler nights, it isn’t the model year end clearance sales on the car lots.  Nope, the surest sign of the next season coming right around the corner is the Covered Bridge Festival!

Yes, there are still covered bridges in the country.  In use even.  Up in our corner of the country there are two neighboring counties that have a combined festival every year right at the start of Fall.  If you have the kind of time we did some years ago and wanted to make a quest of it, you can drive up to and over 30 of the covered bridges spanning (no pun intended) nearly 90 miles of quiet, rural roadway.  (It’s a perfect way to end the convertible season, although if you’ve read us for a while you’ve read posts that make it clear that we never really end convertible season.  But that’s a different story for a different day.)  At 17 of those bridges there will be vendors selling their autumnal decorations, local food booths, singers, dancers and other entertainers, chain saw carvers, quilt makers, and artists in almost every medium.

So why are we so excited over what seems to be just a giant craft show spread over 1,400 square miles?  Like most things we like there are the people.  Some of the most talented people display their talents at the bridges and nowhere else.  Others who are at other arts festivals actually get to spend time with visitors in a more relaxed setting.  Even though it is only 20 or so miles from home there are foods, sights, and sounds we only see the one day a year that we get to the bridges.  And if we miss a year, when the following year rolls around and the dates get closer, the anticipation grows even stronger.

It’s not so much that the Covered Bridges are from a simpler time.  In fact, they are from a harder time.  If we had a choice of trying to make a living in 1814 or 2014 we pick now.  But they are from a sturdier time.  These are bridges built in the early to mid 1800’s and they still work.  And most of the things that we’ve bought in their shadows still work too.  There’s an endorsement, even for a decoration.

And it’s always a great day to take a ride in the woods – and know we can’t get lost!

Now that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you.

Get In Line

Michael Leave a comment

Regular readers know we aren’t good waiters. Lines do not thrill us. Some people find themselves very comfortable standing still behind tens of other people also standing still. We don’t. We especially don’t want to be behind many other people waiting to eat. Just a few days ago we got to combine our displeasure of waiting with our dislike for lines.

It was over the weekend that we were at one of our favorite things, a springtime maple festival. Being in the American north east we are surrounded by maples. Trees in general take up almost every square foot of land around that hasn’t already been turned into Class A office space or $300,000 McMansions. (Has anyone else noticed that nobody ever builds Class B office space? What if we don’t want private elevators, multi-zone climate control, and integrated security/entertainment software? But that’s a post for a different day.)

We were saying, trees in general are big here. And among them, oak and maple top the list. You can’t get anything out of an oak except some really cool shade in the summer and habitats for little woodland creatures all year long. And a lot of maples will never yield more than solid wood furniture. But the sugar maple has that special something running through its veins, if it had veins for anything to run through. And that something is sap and with enough sap you get syrup and with syrup you get the classic Maple Festival. If it’s indeed a classic, you have hot, homemade pancakes. With pancakes made out of freshly milled flour and fresh boiled syrup you get lines. Lines of well over a couple hundred people long waiting for hours to get to the pancakes to pour the syrup over. We don’t understand it.   We’ll buy the flour and the syrup and have our own. And while everyone else is standing in line, we’ll visit the hundred or so vendors that show up with the handmade crafts to sell while the festival folk sell their handmade syrup. We like it. We buy it. We just don’t want to stand in a line for it.

Yet many do. And as we were driving ourselves home that afternoon we started to wonder, just what would we be willing to stand in line for. We’ve never stood in line for tickets to concerts or theaters or sporting events. We’ve gone to many but we don’t pitch a tent the night before to get the best seat. With a few exceptions, the best seat is usually the one in front of the television anyway. We’ve never stood in line for a store to open on Black Friday. We would stand in line to go back to bed the day after Thanksgiving but not to buy one. We once stood in line to get three (yes, three) autographs of three (yes, three) hockey players. If we were so fond of baseball or opera or professional badminton we might have once stood in line for autographs of their great ones but we aren’t so we didn’t and even for hockey we might not again.

Some lines you have to stand in. You’ll never board a plane without first standing in line at the security checkpoint and then again at the gate boarding ramp. If you didn’t print your boarding pass at home the day before add the line at the ticket counter to get one of them before you hit the other two. And if you check baggage through there are lines to check it and then to wrestle it off the conveyor belt. With luck, you’ll never have to stand in the line to determine where they lost it. Airports are not happy places for people who don’t like lines.

And what about you? Line stander, line jumper? Line aficionado, or line abhorrer? Oh, did we mention that in order to get to that festival with the line of people waiting for their pancakes we had to wait in line for the shuttle to take us to the festival grounds? We had no choice; it was either that or walk 3 miles from the parking lot. We know where to draw the line.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?