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February
16, 2010
(Port Charlotte, FL)
This is the very first
yeast bread I've ever attempted to make! I'm a real whiz at quick breads:
cornbread (Southern-style, with no sugar!) and all its variants (corn
pone, hoe cakes) and biscuits; and I make a mean Yorkshire pudding, but I always
thought that baking yeast bread would be too difficult and time-consuming.
Then a friend passed along a link to Artisan
Bread In Five Minutes A Day. "Only four ingredients," I
thought, "I can handle this!"
There are some unexpected quirks to the art (notice that the top of the loaf is split; that's not right!) but nothing I can't handle. At least my first attempt was not a complete flop, which is all the encouragement I need to keep trying. (Sorta like playing the hammer dulcimer; its sounds are so beautiful, even when a complete novice is playing, that there's instant motivation to keep trying!)
And by the way, that bread is delicious!
February
12, 2010 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
It's mid-afternoon, I
am lying in bed, listening to wind and rain pelt the windows ... and, odd as it
may seem, giving thanks for being sick! We were to have participated in
the Bay Area Renaissance Festival's "Highland Fling," up in Tampa,
this weekend. But I woke up with a weird sinus headache and other ailments
this morning, and Greg and I both felt that it would not be in my best
interests to continue with our weekend plans, since Tampa's weekend forecast is
for temperatures that won't get out of the fifties. (Yes, yes, I realize
that it is much, much colder elsewhere. But if you live in one of those
much colder places, I hope you do not have to work outside!)
Moreover, there was to be no Saturday-morning set-up at the festival; a Friday set-up was mandatory. And as I listen to the wind and rain pelt the windows, I realize: had we ignored my (hopefully temporary) physical condition, we'd have been in the midst of set-up when this foul weather hit! Guess it's true: every cloud has a silver lining.
February
7, 2010
(Mount Dora, FL)
The 2010 Mount Dora Art
Festival has just ended. Although the weather presented a challenge --
both days were breezy and cool -- I'm counting my blessings: I'm in Florida,
rather than in Washington, D.C. (where it is currently very cold and pretty much
buried in snow); I had a nice, warm woolen cape to wear; I met so many nice
people this weekend, including a somewhat surprising number of people whose
first (and pretty much only) language is French -- my CDs are going back to
their home countries, which is always a special little thrill.
And I loved our neighbors this weekend! It's unusual to have a "bad" neighbor, although it does happen. But these neighbors were particularly supportive and complimentary of the music. One even went so far as to comment that "no one could listen to this and not be happy," and truly, if people linger a bit longer to listen to/watch me play, odds are they'll take note of the artists around me. Works the same way for me, too: if a person stops to admire a painting or select a piece of pottery, I get just a few more minutes in which to play for them.
I
was exceptionally fascinated with the painter, whose booth I faced all
weekend. Normally, I notice all the pottery in a fair; guess the
"earthiness" of the clay appeals to me. But I was very drawn to
the paintings of Edson Campos, some of whose work immediately made me think
"Rembrandt," though I know very, very little about the paintings of
the great masters. There were some beautiful profile portraits which made
me sort of wish that I lived in a French farmhouse rather than in a Florida
ranch, because they just wouldn't be a good "fit" for our house!
One picture
was so lovely it moved me to tears. (If you are an art lover, you may be
interested to know that I looked up Rembrandt on the internet, to discover that
the picture that had such a profound effect on me was a sort of adaptation of
Rembrandt's "Philosopher In Meditation," with a young woman's
thoughtful face painted into the foreground.)
So why did Campos's work speak to me so? I've never given a great deal of thought to why I like what I like ... when it comes to paintings, that is. But while strolling along the street during a break, I had a chance to observe the paintings of several others, and I realized that many of them, while colorful and accurate representations of flowers or landscapes or architecture, were pictures of things, and didn't really make me think. In Campos's work, I found myself again and again wondering about the subject in the portrait, or where that flight of stairs must lead, or ... just look at the picture at left. It was displayed on the outside of his tent, so I had all weekend to study it. I found myself wondering who the woman was, and what her story was. But rather than asking Campos about the painting, I chose to wonder about it. Perhaps my enjoyment of the art is in the wondering?
January
30, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
Haggis Bash was last
night. "Haggis Bash" is what we informally call our concert
"My Heart's In The Highlands." It's a celebration of Robert
Burns, the poet who, over two centuries ago, composed songs and poems that
celebrated the joy in simple pleasures, like My Heart's In The Highlands,
To A Haggis, and Auld Lang Syne. Burns's birthday is January
25, so this was a birthday party, of sorts, for him.
No, it really was a party! Don Pigeon, Frances Pisacane, Ann & Cal Lloyd, Robin Hendrickson, Elly Gilmore and I, with the capable management and sound support of Greg, plus the big-screen media provided by Rev. Bill Klossner, gave a fun and laughter-filled performance to a fine audience of nearly 200. Sometimes it's tough to play to an audience of hundreds so soon after you've played to an audience numbering in the thousands. Not so with this crowd! They sang along, they clapped, they laughed in all the right places -- they sampled haggis! We played three encores, and had not the house lights gone up, we might be playing yet!
January
28, 2010
(Port Charlotte, FL)
Today had a bizarre
beginning! A little after 2am I woke up with a start, thinking that I'd
just heard a very loud sound. Or was it my imagination, or perhaps
something on the TV? (Greg likes to sleep with the television on.)
Maggie, too, who sleeps in our room, seemed a bit agitated. I'd just about
convinced myself that the dog and I were only imagining things, when I heard
"Uncle Jerry" yank the front door open. If Jerry was moving that
fast, there must be something afoot -- and at that time of the morning, it
probably wasn't good.
So I hopped out of bed and ran outside. Much to my surprise, I saw not only Jerry but our neighbor from across the street. And our trashcan -- the sturdy, heavy-duty, county-issued trash can, which we'd left at street-side for early morning collection, was smashed to pieces, strewn all over the driveway and part of the lawn. Next thing I knew, I heard a soft call from up the street: "Ya'll OK?" And then a small SUV skidded to a halt, its driver and passenger saying, "Does anyone need medical attention?" Thank goodness there were others to respond to these questions, as my brain, still sleep-fogged, was functioning too slowly to take it all in.
Someone insisted they'd heard two big "bumps," and started looking in our vacant lot and down the street for the source of the other "bump." By now, the crowd in the street was growing, including one man who'd heard the commotion from several streets away. Then we all heard from down the street: "He's down here!" In practically no time at all a Sheriff's Deputy cruiser appeared, then another, then a third, then a fourth. I started to pick up the debris out of our driveway, until Jerry stopped me, reminding me that it might serve as evidence for an investigation of the crash. Sometime during all this, Greg came outside; though I'd initially told him that I could handle what I'd initially assumed to be a quick clean-up of a mischievous prank, he'd become concerned when I didn't return after a few minutes.
Here's the general consensus of what must've happened: Some of the crowd reported having heard a high-pitched whine, like the sound of an engine that was revved up to the red-line. Then a very loud BUMP, which was the vehicle hitting our trash can. The driver must've lost control and slalomed all over the street before hitting a mailbox, jumping the sidewalk and thwacking into a tree. Mercifully, the tree was a decorative one planted by the county on a vacant lot. Miraculously, the driver and his passenger were unhurt.
The neighbor from across the street and I were standing in the driveway as one of the deputies was leaving the scene. "You know, Waste Management won't pick up trash unless it's in a can," he teased. Glad he was awake enough to make a joke; I wasn't really awake enough to think up a suitable comeback. I secured his "permission" to begin cleaning up and as he drove away, he kidded me about my needing to take better care of my property, or something to that effect. It's still sort of dream-like in my mind. And then there were Greg, Uncle Jerry and myself, raking and sweeping at 2:30am, watching the ambulance come for the occupants of the wrecked car and the wrecker come for the car itself.
There are weird little bits of red fiberglass, and plastic lens from a headlight in our yard, and the spectacularly damaged trash can which, although Waste Management picked up our re-bagged garbage, did not get picked up on today's trash run!
January
25, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
What a week it's
been! Saturday was the Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival (CCF), and the
Kickoff Party was the night before. No wonder that yesterday morning in
church, every time I bowed for prayer, I secretly prayed that it wouldn't last
too long, lest I nod off!
We watched the number of "hits" on Greg's Celtic Heritage Productions website grow as the week progressed. Following the Central Florida Highland Games, at which both Rathkeltair and Albannach performed, perhaps their fans were looking for the next place they'd be performing. Perhaps it was due to our marketing efforts through Facebook and MySpace, or to the huge billboards in Fort Myers, or to the Comcast television commercial; of course it was a combination of all of the above.
And
the Kickoff Party would bring new attendees to the festival. The CCF is in
downtown Fort Myers. When we first had the idea to have a pre-festival
party, we'd looked for a venue in the immediate downtown area. When
nothing panned out, we began to think of going someplace totally different, and
Bell Tower Shops, with its trendy boutiques and bistros and Saks Fifth Avenue as
an anchor, fit the bill. Just how "different" it was would be
proven to me pretty much on arrival: notice that our big white cargo van and my
musical instruments are parked next to a Lotus! But that
"different" crowd responded with great enthusiasm to the brief,
"teaser" performances by Marcille Wallis & Friends and
Albannach. Jaime Knaub, a retired competitive Irish dancer who now teaches
in the Fort Myers area, danced at the party; she's pictured in the odd but
attractive photo at right. The lighting from the shops make Jaime and the
unidentified party-goer seem almost spectral!
With only a few hours' sleep, Greg and I began Saturday, the day of the CCF, at sun-up in Centennial Park. It's difficult to convey here, all that must go on in the hours immediately prior to opening the gates. To tell the truth, when I reflect on it, it doesn't sound like an overwhelming amount of work. But I can tell you this: I never stopped moving! There were tents to set up and cargo to unload and vendors to be placed and sound crew to check with and performers' "green room" to be set up and countless other tasks -- by the time our band takes the stage I've put in almost a full day's work, most of it physical labor! As exhausting as it can be, though, it is also somewhat exhilarating.
We were the first musical act up, and the set practically flew by, it was so much fun! Rathkeltair followed us -- what a compelling mix of the traditional with the contemporary! Brendan Nolan, who's always a delight, came next, then Albannach, and their raw tribal Scottish sounds. Jaime's Kellyn Celtic Arts Irish Dance Academy had danced their way through many of the earlier acts, then took their own turn on stage, to be followed by encore appearances by Rathkeltair and Albannach. The festival was such a mix of sound and color and energy; my words cannot do it justice, so in hopes that a picture is really "worth a thousand words," I present these:
The above are some of my favorites, but there are plenty more pictures to see on the official Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival page. And there's video on Facebook.
I wanted to close this blog with a heart-warming story -- the sort of thing you need, once in a while, to remind you that there are some really good and decent folks out there. About half-way through the festival I (as emcee) was asked to announce that a money clip had been found and that its owner needed to locate a Fort Myers Police officer and somehow verify his/her identity as the true owner of the clip. A few minutes later, I glanced behind the stage to see an older gentleman chatting with a police officer. Guessing that this man might have been the owner of the money clip, I asked the policeman about him. The policeman very happily reported that, not only was the man the owner, but that the clip had contained a substantial sum of money, all of which had been turned in to the police. "A young kid" was all the officer knew, a kid who did not bother to identify himself. So grateful was the owner, that the reward which he'd wanted to give to the finder of the clip was instead given to the Red Cross, who was at the festival collecting donations for relief efforts in Haiti.
And speaking of the Red Cross, all of the tip money collected by the beer servers that day was donated to the Red Cross. Doesn't stuff like that make your heart sing?
January
17, 2010
(Port Charlotte, FL)
Relaxing in the trailer
after being blown to bits today!
Hmmm ... that
sounds alarming, doesn't it? Today was the second day of the Central
Florida Highland Games, in which we participated this weekend. Today was
gusty, so windy in fact, that the police, citing safety concerns, closed down
the main stage -- and had to chase patrons out of the collapsing beer
tent! But overall, it was a great weekend for us, despite that fact that
both Greg's and my faces are a bit wind-chapped.
Setting
up on Friday, I got to meet, up close and personal, a "Highland
Coo." It's difficult to see from the picture, but the Highland
Cattle, or Kyloe as they are known in Scots, have thick wavy coats, perfect for
grazing in the cold and windswept Highlands of Scotland. (Bet this fellow
was not at all concerned by the blustery conditions on Sunday!) Supposedly
their ... ummm ... dietary preferences also make them well-suited to life in the
Highlands, as they'll eat things that other cattle refuse. All I can tell
you is that this little guy was more interested in eating flowers than in being
petted by me!
Our neighbors, that is, the people who shared our vendor tent, were Susan and Kelly Amsden of Somerville, Tennessee. They'd shared space with us last year as well, and last year I'd admired one of Susan's hand-carved Celtic knots on a necklace of macramé, only to see another woman walk away with it before I got around to purchasing it for myself. This year, I was not to be similarly disappointed. In a grabby gesture that was somewhat unbecoming, and most uncharacteristic, of me, I actually snatched the necklace out from under some customers' noses! Horrified by my own behavior, I hung around, pretending that I was helping Susan to show her designs, but I was quite relieved when the women showed preference for pieces other than "mine." Well, it's legitimately mine, now, and I plan to show it off often!
Kelly's an instrument builder, and I do so enjoy having him as neighbor, because when people tell me they like the sound of the dulcimer and then ask where they can buy one for themselves, all I have to do is point to Kelly!
I really love the Central Florida Highland Games, and would go so far as to guess that in recent years it's become the biggest of all the Games in Florida. Speaking of Highland Games, I have the official go-ahead to announce that this summer I'll be performing at the 55th Grandfather Mountain Highland Games.
January
10, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
I've neglected my
Blog. There, I said it. For those who've written with good-natured
complaints of withdrawal, thanks; I'm flattered -- and I mean to do
better.
Time management has not always come easily to me! While I can hang with the best of the "left-brain" crowd when it comes to ordering tasks in a concrete sequence, I am "right-brain" all the way when it comes to estimating how long those tasks may take! Since I have taken on management of Facebook/MySpace pages for both the Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival and the brand-new (coming in June 2010) WNC Highlands Celtic Festival, in addition to my own personal profile/professional pages on the aforementioned networking sites, I'll admit to having gotten distracted and, at times, a bit overwhelmed. It's been so much fun to reconnect with old friends, getting involved in discussion threads and looking at photo albums of the lives they've led since we last saw each other, that I have to keep reminding myself to complete certain tasks during business hours. Whatever constitutes "normal business hours" these days, in the age of the World Wide Web which never sleeps!