Fire Songs
I had a really wonderful music experience last night that come up serendipitously. It began when I received an invite to see one of my favorite bands, the North and South Dakotas, play in a barn. The invite included the promise of beverages, food, bonfires, and a trebuchet: all elements that seem necessary for a party that takes place in a barn. I attended, not really knowing what I was in for.
When I arrived, there weren't may people there. I'd say about thirty or so folks were hanging out in the barn and near a small fire that was set up outside of the barn. There were sofas and comfortable chairs set around the fire.
I chatted with members of the band and a couple other friends that were also there. I drank a beer and searched for a cup to pour the whiskey that I had brought in to. Then, I heard that the trebuchet was going to be launched to start the first bonfire.
I walked outside and stood near the trebuchet. A few rolls of toilet paper had been soaking in some sort of lighter fluid. These were lit and launched into the air using the trebuchet. The flaming rolls flew forty or so feet in the air and landed directly in the center of large pile of wood. The pile of wood caught the flame and steadily grew into an intense bonfire while the crowd cheered, hooted, and hollered. It was fantastic!
The North and South Dakotas played a set and I watched. I found a cup and poured some whiskey.
The night wore on and I wandered back and forth between the bonfire and the barn, catching some warmth and introspection from the flames and/or listening to some great music. The second bonfire was lit in the same fashion as the first, when the first began to die down hours later.
The crowd doubled in size and then doubled again. There may have been three or four hundred people present.
A solid buzz from the alcohol set in and I wandered through the crowd in a haze, stopping to chat with folks I know or to listen to the bands or to just stare at the fire. The sweet, herbal scent of marijuana wafted through the air.
Groups of people sat in circles passing pipes around. Some practiced yoga. Some danced.
One thing that made this party particularly interesting was the question of the night that was continually asked: Do you know the owner of the property? Often, the answer was no. Sometimes, it was something like: "Oh, I've met him once, but I don't really know him." A joke developed throughout the evening that the owner was the Great Gatsby. That may have started previous to the fireworks going off...
Wandering around the property, I discovered some bizarre things. There were what looked like Gypsy wagons parked here and there. There were also weird statues. This was one of them; but, there were many more:
At one point, I laid in a hammock under a terrace and stared at the moon.
Later on in the night, I found myself standing near the small fire that was by the barn. I met a young couple who would be getting married next summer. They talked about their favorite bands and were very excited that the North and South Dakotas were going to be playing at their wedding. They love the Americana, folk sound. I talked about my music and we discussed the pros and cons of the internet and streaming music.
I overheard a rumor that there was a third bonfire that was yet to be lit. I didn't know where it was because of the layout of the field and the darkness of the night. The other two bonfires had burned down quite a bit.
I noticed a hooded man standing off to the side of the barn in shadow. He was stringing a bow. Once strung, he put an arrow to the string. Then placed the tip of the arrow into a small fire and pulled it out. The tip of the arrow was now flaming.
Nonchalantly, the man took a stance. He pulled back on the string of the bow, aimed at the sky, and let loose the flaming arrow into the dark of the night.
The flame arched and began to make it's decent. I noted that it appeared to be headed in the direction of the two other bonfires and I worried briefly that it was going to land among the crowd of people.
The flame landed in an area beyond the crowd, about a hundred or so yards away from where the hooded archer let loose the flaming arrow.
Instantly, the small flame caught an accelerant. And fire erupted throughout the third wood stack that became the third bonfire. It was hidden behind an area of trees and in the shadows of the night. Now, it was alight with flame while the air was filled with applause and cheers from the crowds.
Moments later, groups of people filtered around the new bonfire, which took no time to become an intense blaze. They danced in a circle around the flame to the sound of tribal hand drums.
From my vantage point atop the hill near the barn, it was a surreal site.
Later in the night, I found myself near the second bonfire, which was no more than a pile of extremely hot coals with a few logs of wood still alight with flame. A woman with a guitar asked me if I had seen the guitar's owner. I knew who she was talking about, but I hadn't seen him. She handed me the guitar and I strummed it. It was severely out of tune.
I began tuning the guitar, when it's owner arrived. We worked on fixing the tuning together, until he disappeared again. I played a couple songs, but people began filtering away from the dying fire. It was also nearly two o'clock in the morning and much of the large crowd had dissipated. I wanted to give the guitar back to its owner and sit in a comfy chair by a fire and enjoy my alcohol buzz.
I wandered in the direction of the third bonfire, as it was the warmest and had the most people around it. As I approached, I attempted to scan the crowd for the guitar's owner. But the faces were dark and my eyes struggled to adjust with the fire as bright as it was.
A group of about six people stood closer to me than the rest. Someone made a comment about the guitar. I explained that I was looking for its owner and asked if anyone knew him. They did not, but they were hoping to hear some music and wondered if I would play something.
I did.
I played Wagon Wheel because they wanted something to sing along to. And they did sing along. They did so loudly. And it was wonderful.
After I finished the song, a young woman explained to me that it was serendipity that I showed up with the guitar. She explained that the crowd, which had been joyful and welcoming was turning negative and uneasy due to past relationships being revisited. She said that she and the group were hoping for something to lighten the mood.
I played Free Fallin' and Walls. Then, I played One and Only Home. A few members of the group picked up on the melodies and sang along.
The fire was quickly shrinking and sleepiness was setting in. I said good-night to the group, received some hugs and handshakes, and set the guitar on my shoulder as I headed away from the fire back towards the barn.
It took some more time to locate the guitar's owner and when I did, I explained the moment I had shared with the group near the bonfire. I thanked him for leaving the guitar with me.
It was now close to three o'clock and the bands had all finished playing and had packed their gear up. The crowd, now, was smaller than when I had arrived. Folks cuddled near the small fire on sofas and chairs. Conversations were quiet.
I wandered out of the light of the fire and around the barn. It was cold and I was weary. Still, I wore a big smile on my face.
I found my car and started it up. I headed home.
When I arrived, there weren't may people there. I'd say about thirty or so folks were hanging out in the barn and near a small fire that was set up outside of the barn. There were sofas and comfortable chairs set around the fire.
I chatted with members of the band and a couple other friends that were also there. I drank a beer and searched for a cup to pour the whiskey that I had brought in to. Then, I heard that the trebuchet was going to be launched to start the first bonfire.
I walked outside and stood near the trebuchet. A few rolls of toilet paper had been soaking in some sort of lighter fluid. These were lit and launched into the air using the trebuchet. The flaming rolls flew forty or so feet in the air and landed directly in the center of large pile of wood. The pile of wood caught the flame and steadily grew into an intense bonfire while the crowd cheered, hooted, and hollered. It was fantastic!
The North and South Dakotas played a set and I watched. I found a cup and poured some whiskey.
The night wore on and I wandered back and forth between the bonfire and the barn, catching some warmth and introspection from the flames and/or listening to some great music. The second bonfire was lit in the same fashion as the first, when the first began to die down hours later.
The crowd doubled in size and then doubled again. There may have been three or four hundred people present.
A solid buzz from the alcohol set in and I wandered through the crowd in a haze, stopping to chat with folks I know or to listen to the bands or to just stare at the fire. The sweet, herbal scent of marijuana wafted through the air.
Groups of people sat in circles passing pipes around. Some practiced yoga. Some danced.
One thing that made this party particularly interesting was the question of the night that was continually asked: Do you know the owner of the property? Often, the answer was no. Sometimes, it was something like: "Oh, I've met him once, but I don't really know him." A joke developed throughout the evening that the owner was the Great Gatsby. That may have started previous to the fireworks going off...
Wandering around the property, I discovered some bizarre things. There were what looked like Gypsy wagons parked here and there. There were also weird statues. This was one of them; but, there were many more:
At one point, I laid in a hammock under a terrace and stared at the moon.
Later on in the night, I found myself standing near the small fire that was by the barn. I met a young couple who would be getting married next summer. They talked about their favorite bands and were very excited that the North and South Dakotas were going to be playing at their wedding. They love the Americana, folk sound. I talked about my music and we discussed the pros and cons of the internet and streaming music.
I overheard a rumor that there was a third bonfire that was yet to be lit. I didn't know where it was because of the layout of the field and the darkness of the night. The other two bonfires had burned down quite a bit.
I noticed a hooded man standing off to the side of the barn in shadow. He was stringing a bow. Once strung, he put an arrow to the string. Then placed the tip of the arrow into a small fire and pulled it out. The tip of the arrow was now flaming.
Nonchalantly, the man took a stance. He pulled back on the string of the bow, aimed at the sky, and let loose the flaming arrow into the dark of the night.
The flame arched and began to make it's decent. I noted that it appeared to be headed in the direction of the two other bonfires and I worried briefly that it was going to land among the crowd of people.
The flame landed in an area beyond the crowd, about a hundred or so yards away from where the hooded archer let loose the flaming arrow.
Instantly, the small flame caught an accelerant. And fire erupted throughout the third wood stack that became the third bonfire. It was hidden behind an area of trees and in the shadows of the night. Now, it was alight with flame while the air was filled with applause and cheers from the crowds.
Moments later, groups of people filtered around the new bonfire, which took no time to become an intense blaze. They danced in a circle around the flame to the sound of tribal hand drums.
From my vantage point atop the hill near the barn, it was a surreal site.
Later in the night, I found myself near the second bonfire, which was no more than a pile of extremely hot coals with a few logs of wood still alight with flame. A woman with a guitar asked me if I had seen the guitar's owner. I knew who she was talking about, but I hadn't seen him. She handed me the guitar and I strummed it. It was severely out of tune.
I began tuning the guitar, when it's owner arrived. We worked on fixing the tuning together, until he disappeared again. I played a couple songs, but people began filtering away from the dying fire. It was also nearly two o'clock in the morning and much of the large crowd had dissipated. I wanted to give the guitar back to its owner and sit in a comfy chair by a fire and enjoy my alcohol buzz.
I wandered in the direction of the third bonfire, as it was the warmest and had the most people around it. As I approached, I attempted to scan the crowd for the guitar's owner. But the faces were dark and my eyes struggled to adjust with the fire as bright as it was.
A group of about six people stood closer to me than the rest. Someone made a comment about the guitar. I explained that I was looking for its owner and asked if anyone knew him. They did not, but they were hoping to hear some music and wondered if I would play something.
I did.
I played Wagon Wheel because they wanted something to sing along to. And they did sing along. They did so loudly. And it was wonderful.
After I finished the song, a young woman explained to me that it was serendipity that I showed up with the guitar. She explained that the crowd, which had been joyful and welcoming was turning negative and uneasy due to past relationships being revisited. She said that she and the group were hoping for something to lighten the mood.
I played Free Fallin' and Walls. Then, I played One and Only Home. A few members of the group picked up on the melodies and sang along.
The fire was quickly shrinking and sleepiness was setting in. I said good-night to the group, received some hugs and handshakes, and set the guitar on my shoulder as I headed away from the fire back towards the barn.
It took some more time to locate the guitar's owner and when I did, I explained the moment I had shared with the group near the bonfire. I thanked him for leaving the guitar with me.
It was now close to three o'clock and the bands had all finished playing and had packed their gear up. The crowd, now, was smaller than when I had arrived. Folks cuddled near the small fire on sofas and chairs. Conversations were quiet.
I wandered out of the light of the fire and around the barn. It was cold and I was weary. Still, I wore a big smile on my face.
I found my car and started it up. I headed home.