Days in the (C)ountry.

(Written July 1, 2009)

It began with a parade not celebrating the independence of a country, but the independence of eccentric locals with musical instruments.

Roughly 16 hours ago I awoke. I roused myself much too early on a Saturday with coffee (more to follow later) and a promise to be the first ever resident belly dancer in the Cheltenham Day festivities. The weather: a cool, sea-like, breeze and a cloudless sky.

Roughly 16 years ago, I was growing up here in Cheltenham, Ontario. I used to walk with my cousins through the corn fields into town for Freezies. Town, here, being defined as a grouping of houses and a general store and differing from the country in the density of said houses and lack (although not entirely) of barns and tractors. I used to play t-ball here next to the fire house with my Kindergarten mates and swim in the Credit river. Today I am reestablishing myself here, 30 days in, to the country in this Country. I shall call myself a Canadian re-patriot.

I find myself at a parade at 9:00am with members and fans of the “Music Farm” a farm for music, honey and garlic courtesy of Paul Haines (AKA Rusty Ephemeris.) The tent is full of instruments, as many in action as possible, and garlic scapes (the stalks of garlic plants) to be dipped in honey or bought by the bunch for whatever may need a garlicky flavour (stir fry, omelet, frittata… an otherwise uninteresting sandwich). We’ve gathered here; mum, myself, uncle Nik, aunt Andrea, Rusty, Sage (his daughter), Sage’s friends and at some point we picked up a horn and squeeze box playing clown, though fortunately, not a leprechaun. I’m jingling all over in my belly dancing attire and getting some second looks from the firefighters grilling next to us. This is a town where “festival” does not equate with ‘hippy clothes and bare feet’ so much as it does with pie eating contests and children on straw bales.

We drummed, we jingle jangled, we danced, I shimmied, we paraded through Cheltenham with a passionate noise. A grand success! We ate garlic scapes dipped in honey. Leaving, we agreed to meet Andrea later for more of some kind of music at another farm.

Home again, mum napping, I was struck with the desire to express in ink and then immediately with the thought; ‘upon what?’ It occurred to me then to revisit the antique flea market in nearby Glen Williams where I had seen a rather neglected drafting table. I’d seen it offered up for $20 while it sat in the rain the previous weekend. It was told to me that the table had previously belonged to the lead animator for the television show “Inspector Gadget”… what a history. It was still there, I offered $15, it came home with me, I spent a while cleaning it up and by the time mum got up again it was in my room and sadly without a useful chair. Away we went to Georgetown to visit Waste Wise; a warehouse somewhere between a junk yard and a thrift store where purchases are by the pound. Success again! They had a fairly ideal chair which took up the time of three employees (two observing, and one fervently working) to sort out how to adjust the height of said seat. It came home too for less than $10 and it is at this furniture ensemble I will sit later to write this.

By the time that was set up we have enough time for a quick veggie burger bite before heading out again for farm music. “Farm music” brings to mind something which could inspire square dancing so it was much to my surprise when we parked in a field and walked under a lit up cedar arch to find a hidden hipster fest! Most of the attendees looked like they were loyal shoppers of Urban Outfitters and thrift shops specializing in “western wear.” Fortunately I was sporting a tattoo and hipster camouflage (plaid), handy in just such a situation as this. I was thinking that the coin belt and finger zils from the earlier parade ensemble would have gone over in this crowd without the double takes. Barn yards are not commonly the place to find people in polka dot dresses with tights, or jeans, band shirts, sneakers and wide rimmed glasses. However, this barn yard was another case. The front yard was packed, Tetris form, with tents.

Evidentially this “Stones Throw Farm” is host to an annual music festival drawing out all the local hipsters and some really great local bands. The stage was set up between a shed and a grain silo in an old farmhouses backyard. The lights were set up on a ladder and inside a horse trailer and the picture-frame area between the stage and the silo displayed possibly the most picturesque rolling fields with lines of trees and dotted farms, sun setting smack in the middle of it. This made for incredible scenery and incredible difficulty in actually seeing the band. The sun was in my eyes almost the whole time, until it finally concluded in a gorgeous and long, stretched-out sunset. This I watched happily from behind the barn in the company of a doe-eyed jersey cow which I felt compelled to feed and bow to along with the sun. The music was superb. All three, of the many bands playing, that I saw, were worth checking out: 1. Tacoma Hell Farm Tragedy 2. Ridin Forward 3. Devon and the Dark Light. Of the places I could have ended up on a Saturday afternoon, especially after an already full day, I was thrilled to find myself seated on this particular back lawn on this particularly perfect day. Even our departure further complemented the day with a calm air, a rising full moon and some distant July 4^th fireworks, three days late for July 1, Canada Day. Oh Canada.