Forest Festivities

On Friday the 24th of January my partner Remo and I headed to the four day long Forest Festival at Jacky's Marsh, located behind the arts and craft town of Deloraine. 

Eventually tracking down our friends amongst the awe inspiring mass of cars, painted vans, alternative tents and colourful people, we unloaded the rather packed Land Rover which was bursting with sleeping bags, food, harp, swags, bags and more!

 We set up our new Dune tent for what was only the second time.

The whole camping area was a hive of activity as everyone organised their various belongings, pausing  to discuss where the tent pegs might be, and to draw attention to "His beard!" or "Those dreadlocks!".

 Having put our campsite into a relatively organised state or disorder, we followed the path marked by red and blue silk flags across the small creek and into to the bright, incense scented market area.  

Passing stalls dedicated to providing alternative fashions, delightful nibblies, artistic inspiration and aura readings.

   

The Juice Box attracted many a thirsty browser as, in typical Tasmanian style, the weather jumped every few minutes form a harsh cold dry wind, to a still summer day with intense uv beating down on all unwary visitors. The constantly changing weather, particularly indecisive on the first day, grew somewhat tiresome as we swapped from wearing jumpers and socks, to walking around barefoot sporting sun hats!

By far our most visited site over the four days, the retro style caravan converted kitchenette, WanderLust provided dreamily smooth and rich Brownie slices for those of us in need of a boost. Their wholesome gluten free spinach and fetta pies,  complimented our rather patchy and un-regimented diet. Inspiring comments such as "Mmmmmnuhhh." and "We need to steal this recipe!" were heard regularly.

In the day time, most of us spent time out on the grass in front of the stage and bar area, finding some little shade and playing well known card games such as Uno, with a few tweaked rules Remo's family had come up with and now played traditionally. Converting all who dared to compete against them in Jump In Uno. I dare say we attracted a few observers eager to learn this new version as members of our band excitedly shouted out "Jump IN" much to the groaning despair of the person who's go it should have been.

Along with card games, one of our top activities during the festival was playing Hackie Sack in the early morning, or evening when the weather was coolest.

A wonderful no hands game where members stand in a circle and by spastic kicks, thrusts and kneeing, attempt to keep the Hackie ball in the air allowing each member to touch it at least once.

These crazy moves and shouts of desperation attracted others, who joined our circle, no introductions necessary.

Though by definition it is a team game, there's always an amusing amount of competitiveness, as show is the picture. Stealing others peoples shot is a regular occurrence. 

Having brought my small harp, Petra, along for the festival,  I had the wonderful opportunity to jam with the amazing didgeridoo player Moriya Light.

I had serenaded our little group early morning while enjoying breakfast, and later when

we actually found a quiet shaded space to relax on the lawn. 

Having seen me walking, harp underarm, Moriya introduced himself, and later that afternoon joined us!

 A wonderfully knowledgeable man, who was happy to allow some of our gang to experiment with many of his magical, and unusual instruments.

Sharing his experience and giving me a few tips as we tried playing the Harp and Didgeridoo together, much to my own, and the others awe. It sounded amazing!

One of the best aspects of the Festival were the people. Incredibly friendly, and colourful.

Zucchini band performers posing in character for a photo.

The little pixie of our gang.

Impressively healthy dreadlocks spotted! 

A hackie sack enthusiast relaxing in the shade.

   

The abstract Tepee.

Embellished hat.

Embroidered parasol.

Beautifully providing shade.

Coffee table.

Flamboyant displays.

The colours, textures, smiles, atmosphere and music of the Forest Festival ensured we all left with memorable experiences, happy thoughts, and strengthened friendships.

Oliver, Katie, Abbey, Hairy Henry, Marietta, Zac, Remo
Bonnie, Daisy, Nina.

The Western Tiers watching over us as the camp was packed away into the Yeti (LandRover) once more.

Strangers meet

Wednesday the fifteenth held in store quite an emotional and touching experience...

Unwittingly I made my way to Launceston amongst the early morning commuters. Suffering  the frustration and occasional spouts of road rage that now go hand in hand with my weekly trips, traveling at 80k an hour and dreaming about the day I am no longer on my P plates. 

Arriving on time and having booked early to secure the best busking spot and time slot, I started up. Though it did not seem overly busy I seemed to be raking in the donations and the atmosphere was great! Many people came up to talk to me, making comments like

"The music of angles."

"You've made my day."

"Keep it up."

as they made their donations, big and small. I heard one man say to his son as they walked by "It's just like a guitar, but standing up."  to which I couldn't help myself but call out that "no, it really isn't."

Another little snippet I gleaned was from a son berating his father for, "Only" having a dollar to put in the box.

Such interactions may seem trivial, but they really make this buskers day.

And as such brief interactions go, I was about to have the most heart wrenching one yet.

An old gentleman came up to me, we had a brief conversation about the style of music I play, and his love of Irish tunes, referring to me as "Ma'am" the whole time.

What I remember most clearly about him was, his clothes, black jeans, black shirt.

He was wearing a belt, and carrying a newly purchased one also.

The VIBE he gave off was so... well it seemed as though he was seeking, and lonely.

After a couple of minutes I started to pluck away at the stings... then he asked me to play him a traditional Irish tune. I chose one of my favourites, called Chanter, which he knew well.

Feeling good about the day and thriving on the atmosphere I dare say I played it well, taking to heart the saying   "To play a wrong note is insignificant, to play without passion is inexcusable."

After finishing, he was thoughtful for a moment. 

Then said

"Thank you so much, you've eased my mind... I was a bit worried about myself earlier..."

when I asked why, he told me

"I've been diagnosed with terminal cancer."

He proceeded to drop a tenner in my box, and walked away...

Later I felt so sad for not knowing his name.

I continued playing after that, feeling grateful for my life and quite nostalgic. I really got in to the music, and hardly noticed as the next person came up to me. He caught me just as I finished a really nice piece. Open face, palms together in the typical (hippie) gesture of gratitude, blond hair and tattooed skin.

He thanked me for playing with such feeling and passion, said he could see my love of the harp and had felt at piece while listening. 

As often I do when meeting someone interesting who seems to appreciate what I do, 

I offered him a go.

Taking the opportunity to snap some shots of the meeting.

I learned that he had traveled from Canada to the mainland not long ago, and in one day decided to make his way to tassie, with no contacts here, little money and no idea what to expect or where to go once here.

As he finished playing, I glimpsed an instrument case over near his pack and after questioning him about it, he offered to play a song of his own.

He gathered quite a crowed as he played and sang, something just for me made-up on the spot.

Our little meeting completely made my already amazing day, just that bit better, and vastly more memorable. 

We wished each other well, he insisting we would meet again, the charmer, blowing me a kiss as he left, hefting his pack, music case in hand.

Two days later, back in Launceston busking, and he puts a little poem in my box.

Here is a little snippet of that poem I feel I can share with you.