Springs Folk Festival...a place for memories

As I sit cross-legged on my bed, eating kettle corn, I am thinking about the Folk Festival. Yesterday and today, the small community of Springs, Pennsylvania became an organized jumble of lined-up traffic, fields parked full of cars, and people, thousands of people. The craft booths were jam-packed full of knitted, woven, hammered, carved, whittled, sewn, spun, braided, painted and photographed handicrafts of all kinds. The aroma of fresh baked bread mingled with popped corn, apple butter stewing, sausages simmering and chestnuts roasting. Yesterday, the warm weather called for homemade ice-cream. Bean soup and vegetable soup are tradition and today's chilly weather called for both.  Actually, it demanded both.  Can you tell I love the Festival?

I first went to the Folk Festival with my cousin and friend Jencene. Her mother was an artist, painting oil portraits, and always had a booth. So we'd go with her and spend the day wandering the grounds, collecting everybody's business cards, eating funnel cakes, going on hayrides, buying penny candy from Springs Store and getting muddy. One year, I remember a huge mud puddle that sucked the boot right off my foot. Of course, that was after I'd already fallen backwards into the mud.

Another year, we spent hours playing Dukes of Hazzard out among the vehicles, using her dad's Trail Blazer as our "General Lee". While not quite the same as Bo and Luke Duke, we did eventually master how to climb in through the windows. If there had been a cop chasing after us though, we'd have been quite caught. The crafts that year? Not a clue. The singing groups? Even more clueless. Time spend with my buddy? The best.

Watching Ryan this year, just turning nine years old,  and wanting to run off with his friend, I had to remind myself that I was just that age when I ran loose all over the same territory. Did my mother worry what I'd get into? Most likely. I know I wondered if I should let Ryan go or make him stay with me. In the end I let him go. Somehow the Festival feels safe, like everyone who is participating is one big family and we look out for each other.

I like that.

Heather had fun with her friends too.

I like that.

(Thanks Pam Dornburg for some of the pictures!)

The drama "Chestnut Roots" is done for another year. I had so many mixed feelings about it. From thinking I would not be able to help at all, to ending up helping with some costuming, prompting of the actors, and then doing a walk-on "Mother of the schoolteacher" role, it has been a little bit of a bumpy ride.  I missed being more involved. I missed playing the role of Arminta. I missed the excitement of being next on stage.

But, I think it was the right decision for me to step back a bit this year. I really don't know how I would have or could have done more. That doesn't mean it was easy watching someone else playing the part that was mine for the past four years, but she did a good job and brought her own personality to it. Maybe next year, I'll have to find another role that fits me.

For now though, my role is to take care of my family, work hard even when life gets tough, enjoy the small moments and delight in the large ones, be a good manager of what God has blessed me with, and be creative with my mind and my hands.

Hey, that sounds a lot like what the Festival is all about.

Me as "Mother Hart" and Sara as Miss Hart, my schoolteacher daughter

Pam as "Catherine Miller" aka Mama

Til next year, I'll leave you with this...

 ...and this.
(Didn't you always wonder what the ladies wore underneath those long skirts?)

Love,
Dianne

P.S. See you next October