Five Green Acres Mary Jo + Andrew Borchardt fivegreenacres@gmail.com Poynette, WI
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This time, as an insider.

This time, as an insider.
August 4, 2009 Mary Jo

We returned to the Sugar Maple Music Festival.  This must be our favorite event of the entire year.

It was the culmination of a year’s worth of anticipation, beginning the moment we left last year’s event.  Last year, as we danced and marveled and let the cornucopia of  sound wash over us, we also recognized the longing that we carried with us to make our own music.  Wistfully, we ogled the banjos and fiddles and guitars and accordions.  And as we wound our way through the crowd of contented listeners last year, taking our leave and observing our little one’s need for sleep, I made two wishes.   First, I hoped we would return to the festival the following year with a family of four. (check)  And second, I hoped that by that time the following year, I would be learning how to play an instrument of my own. (double check)

As it turns out, having a set deadline for a goal or wish is infinitely useful in manifesting that goal.  But more on that later.  For now, I’d like to focus on the marvelous time we had at the festival this year.

“We could live on this blanket,” I said as I set about preparing our picnic lunch.  A still-warm loaf of fresh baked bread was sliced on the spot for our sandwiches.  Fresh blueberries were squirreled away by a little girl sharing with a new friend on a neighboring blanket.  We were comfortably afloat in a sea of music, arriving just in time to hear the traditional cowboy songs performed by KG & The Ranger, an act that included yodeling and lasso rope tricks.  We had been anticipating it for months.

KG & The Ranger

The stilts were a pleasant surprise.

Maybe next year will find us joining one of the jam sessions offered in a nearby tent?  Or the accordion workshop? Perhaps the child-size accordion I stumbled across at a garage sale a few weeks ago can be put to good use.

This year, the painful angst came not from the intense, unfulfilled desire to play an instrument, but in having to leave the festival at the beginning of this act to head north for a wedding.  A consolation made its way home with us, allowing us to revisit the fest while (edited) washing dishes, bouncing baby, or making supper. vacuuming up broken glass, intercepting the maple syrup being emptied out onto two leftover blueberry pancakes, and accompanying the battery-operated noise of the Jumparoo.

I made a new wish as we drove away this year.  Respecting the rules of wish-making, I’ll share it once it comes to fruition.

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