DOUBLE ADVENTURE WEEKEND

In the midst of finishing planning for the Ireland trip — the really big 75th birthday celebration — I have two adventures back-to-back in one weekend.  Saturday I enjoy a six hour music festival and Sunday, a wildflower jaunt.  And an incredible sight awaits me at the end.  

SATURDAY May 7:  Blind Willie

My friend, Paul, and I have attended the Blind Willie McTell Blues Festival first Saturday in May for three previous years.   I make an exception to my 2016 rule of not spending money for musical events to buy this ticket.  (With my budget, travel adventures preclude entertainment spending.)  It is held in Thomson, Georgia; Paul drives.

The Universe is incredible.  As Paul and I approach the gate a portly man comes toward us asking whether we have tickets already.  We don’t.  He offers us two at a $20 savings of what they would be at the entrance.  Wow!  Paul asks where this apparent stranger lives.  “Athens.” 

So I say, “Well, you must know Paul because everyone in Athens knows him.”  Then both say something about the other person looking familiar.  Turns out they met at some party years ago. 

It is a beautiful sunny day with a nice breeze to tone down the Georgia Spring warmth.  The grass is well mowed.  I see no signs of fire ants.  Friends and families set up canopies on the outer edge so that they don’t block the view of people on lawn chairs or blankets. 

Super-clean blue porta-potties stand behind a hand-cleaning station with running water and soap.  Very posh!

 
Folks wanting to buy beer have to show identification to a guard issuing wrist bands.  I overhear a woman ask, “Do you want to see my driver’s license or my Medicare card?”

Diane and her family have been attending the festival for at least 15 years. They play cards between performers.  (Hey, who is that taking our picture!)

I experiment taking photographs of musicians on stage.  I have seen marvelous pictures by Tim and others in the Athens Photography Guild.  As a complete neophyte, I can only try to get something interesting in my camera lens.  A photography challenge and adventure.

The Deslondes, from New Orleans, show influences from blues, bluegrass, zydeco, rock’n’roll, and gospel.  Great way to begin.

 Col. Bruce Hampton and the Madrid Express, is unknown to me but both Paul and Diane are glad his current group plays more melodically than in the past.  This customer, a "Biker for Christ," is buying dessert.

Jerron “Blind Boy” Paxton plays on guitar, banjo, and a tiny harmonica.  His performance is personal, authentic and historical.  His patter is entertaining.

My favorite group, musically, is The Cash Box Kings.  They play Chicago blues,  reminding me of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band.   I make a teensy movie clip for Bernice to hear about Everybody Goin’ Fishin’ sung by mellow-voiced Oscar Wilson.  The guy with the crown on his head plays fabulous harmonica, bending blues notes sensually.  It’s jolting seeing him in that light blue suit (is it seersucker?) playing sultry sounds.  He should be dressed in something black I’m thinking.  I close my eyes.

Is that masking tape on his bass?

Oscar Wilson:  smooth!

Larry Campbell and Teresa Williams are famous but I am not impressed.  They choose to play songs which sound more country and less bluesy to me.

My favorite performers in terms of heart and soul are Ronnie Earl and The Broadcasters.  Maybe because of their age?  No, it’s how Mr. Earl reaches out to the audience.  He speaks, sings, and plays TO and FOR the people in the audience, about love.  I’m taken with his bass guitarist who might be my age.  He has a peace pin on his guitar strap. 

The festival ends before dark.  I go to sleep as soon as I get home because there’s another adventure tomorrow.

SUNDAY May 8:  Jarrard Trail

Linda Chafin’s directions are clear.  Go around Dahlonega, heading toward Lake Winfield Scott.  Up until the very last moment, my iPhone and her directions are identical.  But I find her and the group anyway.

Walking in the woods is always an adventure.   Jess, the ecologist for Forest Watch, is there.  I met him at Hike Inn when he spoke and then gave a guided walk down the mountain.  

I went on Jarrard Trail a year ago for an elective course on my Native Plant Certificate curriculum.  I loved it then and love it now but can recognize some plants on my own this time.   I make audio notes about the plants I don’t recognize but accidentally delete the recording.  

Before we even get on the trail we see a mountain buckeye and some bright yellow buttercups.

 

A yellow trillium is hiding amidst profuse foliage.  A beautiful stand of foam flower must have been well watered by Spring rains.  

The fertile frond of rattlesnake fern, according to country legend, points to “sang.”  That stands for ginseng, of which there are two mountain varieties.  The large ginseng can be quite valuable if sold.  We saw the dwarf ginseng in the Smokies and at Smithgall Woods.

Catesby’s trillium is light pink now but was white and will gradually turn dark rose.  Its flower always hangs down.

Jess does a wonderful job of explaining something important about this tree, which might be a magnolia.  Sometimes I get so aggravated with my brain!  Wonderful teachers tell me marvelous things which I cannot hold in my head.  And on this trip, I accidentally delete the audio notes I use as my brain annex. 

 The last beautiful thing we see before we actually get on the trail is this tall native azalea.  Knocks my sox off.

Now we’re on the trail and Jess is being instructive about another tree, possibly a Fraser magnolia.  Or not!  I do remember that we saw two kinds of magnolias.

This May-apple’s bloom is so pretty.  Only “twins” produce the flower (two leaves coming from one stem).  Once the flower becomes a fruit, it is so heavy, it pulls the plant to the ground.   Box turtles eat it and, after partial digestion, expel the seeds to spread the plant in new locations.  Neat, hunh?

The red trillium with its flower on top, not hanging below the leaves, is called Sweet Betsy. 

Ferns are everywhere thanks to the tiny streams and seeps.  Maidenhair ferns (why are they so appealing?) give clues about what rocks are underneath the soil.  Linda says limestone is not in this area so something else (did she say mafic?) is causing the right pH (acidic) for them to grow.  Web site gardeningknowhow.com says:  Maidenhair fern history is quite interesting. Its genus name translates to “non wetting” and refers to the fronds’ ability to shed rainwater without becoming wet. The plant is the source of an aromatic, volatile oil commonly used as a shampoo, which is where its common name of maidenhair derived. Its black stems were once used as a dye in addition to being employed for the weaving of baskets. Native Americans also used maidenhair ferns as poultices for wounds to stop bleeding.

My new friend from the Smokies is here:  yellow mandarin. 

A plant I just learned last year, Indian cucumber-root, is blooming.  It is more attractive when it has dark berries.  And there is a wonderful Jack-in-the-pulpit! 

 Wild geranium is frequent and glows in the dense woods.

We see quite a number of white trilliums which the botanists enjoy discussing:  Is it this species?  Or that one?  I keep walking since I have nothing to add and will not remember what they decide. 

 A huge, still-standing dead tree is declared to be a chestnut.  What a loss when they all died years ago in a blight that began with a fungus in the early 1900’s.  Hopefully the new variety will be viable over time. 

Amidst all these beautiful flowers, ferns, and trees, is poison ivy.  It is hard to keep track of, so I am glad I have on long pants and hiking boots.  I hope the people wearing shorts are not sensitive to it.

We see meadow parsnip, which I first learned about in the Smokies.  (This photo is for Mary and Kathy, who love parsnips.) And the Clintonia, with its huge, broad and simple leaves, is blooming.  Goodness, what a wonderful trail!

We tromp forward because Linda says there are pink lady slippers at the top of the hill.  They are so special we admire them fully.  Should we keep going?  Linda says there is nothing ahead on the trail that we have not already seen.  

We swear an oath not to spot another flower, not to ask a single botanical question, until we get back to the parking lot for lunch, enabling our group to walk down five times faster than we went up.  Most of the group is going on a second walk after lunch.  But it took me two 1/2 hours to get to Lake Winfield Scott from home.  I want to arrive back before midnight. 

I will eat my own lunch in the car but first, I need to use their clean unisex privy.  I pass the lake, which looks like fun for families and fishermen. 

Then I see a tiger swallowtail fluttering by, then five.  As I follow their path, I see a whole flock of them “puddling.”  I walk carefully toward them.  [Mostly male butterflies do this, ingesting salts and minerals to improve their sperm.  They puddle around water, mud, urine or fresh dung.]  

I just love all that color and fluttering.  Perfect ending to this day’s adventure.