May 30, West Friendship.
Two days here again, sweet, but I miss yesterday's perfect lot, and how it made for such an easier day with the kids.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
No mowing the lawn.
May 29, Reisterstown.
This time we're really on the much awaited East Coast (and it seems like yesterday we were in Ohio, sometimes I overestimate the size of this country, as when I was little and thought it was more or less the size of the Pacific ocean,) in a northwestern suburb of Baltimore, if you looked at Baltimore as a clock we would be at eleven, said a lady who was at the playground with her grand-daughter this morning.
The church's playground is the star of the day: we're parked smack in front of it, Dylan's private playground, right in front of us, across a perfect lawn we don't have to mow.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Our own private yard.
May 26, Frostburg.
We moved here last night, as the day was winding up after the last show at 4:30 PM, because the terrain was steeply downhill and everybody was parked lopsided (but us, we moved back and somewhat leveled, with the extra bonus of being on our own with a private yard of sorts, thanks to the miles of cables Fridman has.) I forgot to take a picture of the view from the back window, maybe because we had no internet connection and so I spaced out. But we went for a walk, Dylan, Nicolas and I, and it was where I would put the house of my dreams, and so here it is.
It is beautiful too here in Maryland, yet another state, it feels so nice being in a level grassy lot and no mud nor dirt (paradise comes cheap for circus people.)
A trailer with a (forgotten) view.
May 25, Springfield, West Virginia (48 miles, Crystal Valley Ranch.)
Saturday, May 24, 2008
In the valleys.
May 24, Petersburg.
After three days in Morgantown we drove yesterday in the afternoon, we couldn't pull onto the lot until evening here, and it was too long to drive in the morning as usual.
Horrible drive for me as I suffered from another one of these pseudo-migraines that come at this time of the month and almost blind me; it grew worse as I drove on, thought I would not make it. Too bad, it is indeed, if not exactly wild, wonderful, as the tags say, on these rural roads in the West Virginia valleys.
After three days in Morgantown we drove yesterday in the afternoon, we couldn't pull onto the lot until evening here, and it was too long to drive in the morning as usual.
Horrible drive for me as I suffered from another one of these pseudo-migraines that come at this time of the month and almost blind me; it grew worse as I drove on, thought I would not make it. Too bad, it is indeed, if not exactly wild, wonderful, as the tags say, on these rural roads in the West Virginia valleys.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The blues doctor.
May 20, Morgantown.
Morning surprise. On the daily route card we find on the truck dashboard when we wake up a change of plans: the town we were to play today was canceled, and as a result we got a day off, out of the blue, and we jumped to the next stop, Morgantown, and another state; the reason for all this is not hard to guess, it has rained on and off all day.
Morgantown is home to an old friend, Joel Beeson, the bluzdoctor, and his wife, Danah, and family. Joel was one of my instructors at the University of Missouri-Columbia in the photojournalism school and has remained a friend ever since through many moves and career twists on both sides. He teaches photojournalism at West Virginia University; Danah is a designer, and teaches there as well. He loves the blues, and all things true. Danah and he are multi-talented, incredibly creative people, they are giving and open-minded, for me they epitomize the best of this country's spirit.
We haven't seen each other in close to three years. I am looking forward to seeing them again.
Morning surprise. On the daily route card we find on the truck dashboard when we wake up a change of plans: the town we were to play today was canceled, and as a result we got a day off, out of the blue, and we jumped to the next stop, Morgantown, and another state; the reason for all this is not hard to guess, it has rained on and off all day.
Morgantown is home to an old friend, Joel Beeson, the bluzdoctor, and his wife, Danah, and family. Joel was one of my instructors at the University of Missouri-Columbia in the photojournalism school and has remained a friend ever since through many moves and career twists on both sides. He teaches photojournalism at West Virginia University; Danah is a designer, and teaches there as well. He loves the blues, and all things true. Danah and he are multi-talented, incredibly creative people, they are giving and open-minded, for me they epitomize the best of this country's spirit.
We haven't seen each other in close to three years. I am looking forward to seeing them again.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Ballade.
May 19, Avella.
Not a song - a beautiful word, a ballad, - but a stroll, in French.
It's a yukky day and we're stuck tire-deep in mud (and it had to be the day when I wanted to unhitch and go drive around the area where I had found the house of my dreams last year while looking and wishing on the web, an old remodeled farmhouse west of Pittsburgh with seven acres of pasture and a creek frontage; when am I going to be back in the area? we had it all planned out over the CB radio on the way over.) But I wouldn't give in to a mood to suit the circumstances, so I put Nicolas/Peanut/Mingo on my back and took Dylan by the hand and off we went slip sliding in the mud down a dirt road at the back of the lot and we had an adventuresome walk, met a spider (Dylan and I,) saw a black dog (all three of us,) picked up a branch to use as a walking stick (Dylan,) listened to the wind in the trees (Dylan and I, for Mingo/Peanut/Nicolas was asleep by then) and the sound of the stream and the birds and the trucks on the invisible road on the other side of the creek.
Happy birthday Myrna.
May 19, Avella.
We're swimming in mud, sinking and sliding, every trailer except Myrna the cook had to be pulled in with a tractor. It is nice clay, said Myrna, we could make pottery. It is her birthday today. Lucky Eddie and Vickie wished her a happy birthday when she arrived, last on the lot, and she said she couldn't remember whether she was 36 or born in 36. I think I'll be 27, she added as final words on the subject.
Myrna is a story in itself, one that I hope to learn about soon; she's been in the circus all her life, I've been wanting to interview her since the beginning of the season but haven't had the time; when the circus programs are finally done I'll be able to go back to story telling, the fun stuff.
We're swimming in mud, sinking and sliding, every trailer except Myrna the cook had to be pulled in with a tractor. It is nice clay, said Myrna, we could make pottery. It is her birthday today. Lucky Eddie and Vickie wished her a happy birthday when she arrived, last on the lot, and she said she couldn't remember whether she was 36 or born in 36. I think I'll be 27, she added as final words on the subject.
Myrna is a story in itself, one that I hope to learn about soon; she's been in the circus all her life, I've been wanting to interview her since the beginning of the season but haven't had the time; when the circus programs are finally done I'll be able to go back to story telling, the fun stuff.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Cadiz.
May 18, Cadiz.
Nothing like la belle de Cadiz but this small town is cute in its own right, brown brick and stately homes, and this sprawling park. On a sunny day this would be simply paradise, oh what paradise.
The field is so saturated you step on the grass and sink in water. The crew covered the ring with hay yet again, and the horses performed even though they don't under such conditions. People are not complaining, rather joking about the weather and what it means in terms of discomfort, for the crew setting up the tent and midway and for the artists dealing with muddy, dirty backstage areas in addition to wildly uneven grounds.
We're going into Pennsylvania tomorrow! (always loved the state, memories of working as an intern photojournalist at The News-Journal in Wilmington, Delaware, fifteen years ago and living next door in Pa, in gorgeous Mendenhall.)
Nothing like la belle de Cadiz but this small town is cute in its own right, brown brick and stately homes, and this sprawling park. On a sunny day this would be simply paradise, oh what paradise.
The field is so saturated you step on the grass and sink in water. The crew covered the ring with hay yet again, and the horses performed even though they don't under such conditions. People are not complaining, rather joking about the weather and what it means in terms of discomfort, for the crew setting up the tent and midway and for the artists dealing with muddy, dirty backstage areas in addition to wildly uneven grounds.
We're going into Pennsylvania tomorrow! (always loved the state, memories of working as an intern photojournalist at The News-Journal in Wilmington, Delaware, fifteen years ago and living next door in Pa, in gorgeous Mendenhall.)
Amish country.
May 17, Millersburg.
Beautiful part of the state and one of those roads marked scenic on the map with tiny green spots; that usually means a difficult road for us, curves and hills. This is Amish country, and just as we passed a sign to the "Nearest Amish restaurant: Das Deutsch Essenhaus" a horse buggy, with its orange warning sign on the back, a tad sinister with its black cover hiding the passengers.
Beautiful part of the state and one of those roads marked scenic on the map with tiny green spots; that usually means a difficult road for us, curves and hills. This is Amish country, and just as we passed a sign to the "Nearest Amish restaurant: Das Deutsch Essenhaus" a horse buggy, with its orange warning sign on the back, a tad sinister with its black cover hiding the passengers.
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