random thoughts – Day 1,230 – (Sunday) – folk fest sunday

Folk Fest Sunday was perfect. The sun was shining and the temperature was in the 70s. It was markedly more comfortable than yesterday’s oven-like conditions followed by the rain that derailed a chunk of the day.

Friends came in from out of town and we carpooled downtown in their mid-life Chrysler convertible in perfect weather conditions to be topless. We met other friends at Boarding House Park for the Fran Grace sacred steel guitar performance before peeling off for lunch nearby. 

On the trolley, ready to ride.

We surveyed the menus and narrowed our choice to two vendors, then chose one based on the shorter length of the line. We are quite strategic. The winner was the Middle Eastern food booth where a man yelled to the crowd they had “THE BEST FALAFEL.” It was true, they did. Within minutes, all the lines at all the booths on the street were exponentially longer and we congratulated ourselves for both our food choice and timing. 

After lunch, the adventure continued with the Ukrainian band Cheres, which reminded me of playful and delightful cartoon music, followed by our annual trolley to the other side of the festival footprint. We rejoined our friends for the Chuck Mead rockabilly and honky-tonk show at the Dance Pavilion where there were lots and lots of cowboy hats under the tent and the seating and dance floor were mobbed.

Break time! Aperol Spritzes
 and a Hendricks and tonic.

Our Folk Fest day hit all the high points. There was the music and food and the wandering through the art market and LaLa Books. We enjoyed a sit-down beverage break at Fuse Bistro, which had Aperol Spritz, my current favorite beverage, on the menu. A jazz band played while we sipped and chatted and watched the crowd passing by on the street. We forgot to take our annual Folk Fest group photo. 

After more music at the Market Street Stage, the walk back to the car included a stop at a very crowded, barely navigable antiques shop. The proprietor of the antiques shop told us there are no prices, and people just “make an offer, hand over the cash, and bounce.” Dang, I really prefer to see a price tag lest I insult somebody with a horrible price offer. Luckily, I didn’t see anything I wanted because the stress might have killed me.

Vent nesting.

After a quick visit to Jack Kerouac Park, we were back in the car, top down, and back to the house. As we pulled into the driveway, the unobstructed view of peak of my roof revealed multiple clusters of straw near the attic vent which never would have been seen if the roof wasn't down. 

Bird nests, precariously perched on the slope of the roof, seemed to solve the spring mystery of the four baby bird corpses on the front lawn. It made me sad. And now I need to figure out how to get the nesting material out of the vent. The BungaLowell is always full of surprises.