We're Back from Doug Stock!
We went up to DougStock - an occasional celebratory party hosted by our friends Doug and Patricia (Thanks folks!) in Vermont. Peter went up with us and we had a great time. The community of Fair Haven is right out of a New England travelogue. We stayed at an Inn called the Marble Mansion, a great pile of a Victorian home that's within walking distance of the main festivities, (http://www.marblemansion.net/). Doug and Patricia had invited all of their friends from the four quarters. People came streaming into town, (I understand that New York State Throughway was closed, man!). The weather was always threatening, due to the nearby hurricane. But Peter and I led the crowds in a chant of "No Rain! No Rain!" and that kept the storm at bay. The music and the company were great. We got to meet Doug and Patricia's new daughter Zoe. Chris and Mariela came down with their kids Marcello and Alexsandro too. It was the first time we'd met any of the children. Things started up Friday night with a nice dinner out and a tour of the house. It was a fascinating structure - a former pre-Victorian era barn. Later additions added new rooms and angles, creating a sinister maze, hinting at dark secrets and forbidden spaces.
The next day started early, there was to be an Apple Festival taking place directly across the street from our Inn that was cancelled at the last minute. Vermonters are a hardy people, used to dealing with inclement weather. So, I cannot believe that the roiling storm clouds were the reason for the festivities not taking place. No, I suspect that we, the presence of outsiders, were to blame. The Fair Haven Apple Festival is quite clearly a pre-Christian fertility and harvest cult rite. Each Autumn, when the stars and Moon are aligned, a young lad from the village is selected by the elders as that year's symbol of the apple harvest (my occult intuition tells me that their proper title is probably the "MacIntosh King"). After a year of enjoying the best food, housing and selection of local maids, this person is put to death - sacrificed to assure the next year's harvest and general welfare of the village. I noticed that the village square has a small stone altar at its center. Clearly, its purpose is to tie the victim down across it, drive an obsidian knife into their chest and extract their heart. Blood from the still-beating organ is squeezed upon the ground, guaranteeing the fertility of the land for next year. Then, each of the villagers lines up with a small silver cup to receive a few drops from which they drink for personal protection and success in the coming year. A new MacIntosh King is selected, and the whole process beings again, as it has since antiquity.
Clearly, this ceremony is to be hidden from outsiders, and I am positive that is why it was cancelled while we were there. But as we were driving off, I felt sure that I heard the callings of sinister drums...
At any rate, later on Saturday, the festivities at DougStock proceeded apace. Great friends and conversations, music and food. It was a wonderful day. In fact, the comparisons to Woodstock were uncanny. There was drug use, (I'd taken my prescription of Lipitor earlier) as well as nudity (Zoe lost her shirt some time during the festivities). A very successful Happening!
This morning we reluctantly left Vermont to return to Byzantium. I'm happy to say that the ride was uneventful, with one notable exception. We were driving along Interstate 287 in New Jersey and needed to get some gasoline. Now, the state already has a rough reputation; but apparently it feels that it's just not quite bad enough. What New Jersey does is put signs up at each exit announcing that there's a gas station there. For most of us, this would strongly imply that there's a gas station right off the highway. But for Jersey it merely means that if one exits here and travels enough days, one might possibly spy a station at some point, (a condition which exists for any highway exit on earth - even Timbuktu). I was misled several times into leaving the highway with promises of gas that simply weren't true. After several failures to locate a station (after having been promised same by the highway signs), I gave up leaving the road until I could actually see a pump. Ridiculous.
But that is a minor quibble, we had a great time, and look forward to the next Gathering of the Tribes...
The next day started early, there was to be an Apple Festival taking place directly across the street from our Inn that was cancelled at the last minute. Vermonters are a hardy people, used to dealing with inclement weather. So, I cannot believe that the roiling storm clouds were the reason for the festivities not taking place. No, I suspect that we, the presence of outsiders, were to blame. The Fair Haven Apple Festival is quite clearly a pre-Christian fertility and harvest cult rite. Each Autumn, when the stars and Moon are aligned, a young lad from the village is selected by the elders as that year's symbol of the apple harvest (my occult intuition tells me that their proper title is probably the "MacIntosh King"). After a year of enjoying the best food, housing and selection of local maids, this person is put to death - sacrificed to assure the next year's harvest and general welfare of the village. I noticed that the village square has a small stone altar at its center. Clearly, its purpose is to tie the victim down across it, drive an obsidian knife into their chest and extract their heart. Blood from the still-beating organ is squeezed upon the ground, guaranteeing the fertility of the land for next year. Then, each of the villagers lines up with a small silver cup to receive a few drops from which they drink for personal protection and success in the coming year. A new MacIntosh King is selected, and the whole process beings again, as it has since antiquity.
Clearly, this ceremony is to be hidden from outsiders, and I am positive that is why it was cancelled while we were there. But as we were driving off, I felt sure that I heard the callings of sinister drums...
At any rate, later on Saturday, the festivities at DougStock proceeded apace. Great friends and conversations, music and food. It was a wonderful day. In fact, the comparisons to Woodstock were uncanny. There was drug use, (I'd taken my prescription of Lipitor earlier) as well as nudity (Zoe lost her shirt some time during the festivities). A very successful Happening!
This morning we reluctantly left Vermont to return to Byzantium. I'm happy to say that the ride was uneventful, with one notable exception. We were driving along Interstate 287 in New Jersey and needed to get some gasoline. Now, the state already has a rough reputation; but apparently it feels that it's just not quite bad enough. What New Jersey does is put signs up at each exit announcing that there's a gas station there. For most of us, this would strongly imply that there's a gas station right off the highway. But for Jersey it merely means that if one exits here and travels enough days, one might possibly spy a station at some point, (a condition which exists for any highway exit on earth - even Timbuktu). I was misled several times into leaving the highway with promises of gas that simply weren't true. After several failures to locate a station (after having been promised same by the highway signs), I gave up leaving the road until I could actually see a pump. Ridiculous.
But that is a minor quibble, we had a great time, and look forward to the next Gathering of the Tribes...
posted by mendip at
7:08 PM
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