Monday, July 17, 2017

went to the weed bluegrass festival the other folks around here, there is nothing alarming about that name. weed is simply a little town way out in the mountains, and it holds this festival every july, and the festival is its largest fundraiser for the community center and scholarships that the community provides to its people. some of its kids go to my son's school, as it's only 23 miles away or so, but it takes a good forty minutes on windy, treacherous roads with no shoulder on steep cliffs. you follow the cox canyon road out maybe 18 miles before turning and actually crossing over a range of rather steep mountains; this is only about six or seven miles, but it's very steep and somewhat dramatic.

bluegrass people had come from all around, and most were camping. this is generally an upbeat, but very conservative, religious crowd. they like gospel music. they are generally opposed to alcohol in all of its iterations. they tend toward large motor homes and little pets, and they are generally well keyed in to the music itself. that is the part that endears them to me. they love the music, and they know a lot of songs.

fiddlers are rare, not only here, but in texas, and throughout the countryside. i've found generally welcoming greetings from crowds like this, since they don't get many chances to play with fiddles. there were several steel guitars, and several banjos; there was a standup bass, and one more fiddler, a woman whom i know, who is actually one of the organizers. it's a tiny community, but it seems the restaurant-cafe-post-office is clearly the center of it, and almost all of its residents were there that night.

my son recorded much of it; he knew the waitress and some other kids who were there. in the end, because we knew people, it was a local kind of thing. and that i liked. the music was good, the company was good, and i felt like i was a fiddler again. this is the kind of festival i could attend every year, as long as i live.


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