Adam's Ave Folk Festival

And then, at the end of the 6th day, the two jobs parted and were held back with curtain ties. Though constantly framing the spaces between, time between, the real show took to the road. Deb and I went to the Adam's Ave Folk Festival, and not a minute too soon. We were caught up in the city life, rustling in deadlines and clinging to the long reaching branches from our roots. We were Ohioans, folk folk, and needed to return to those roots. Deb was so drained she actually figured vampires were involved. No joke, she kept garlic on her bedroom dresser.

The lady with the skirt wrote the songs. Unfortunately, they were classic in nature: songs about being a girl, love, her grandmother. The music was good, though, and she had a nice voice. The little girl wasn't completely impressed either.

The poor girl dancing had nightmares for days after seeing the man who epitomized "grandfathered". He was grandfathered into the audience because they had to build the stage around him. I think he was actually grandfathered into modern society, too.

The foursome here was actually an extension of duo known as Last Transit. While the man on the far right, Marke Foxworthy of all names, and the fiddler were the root of the group, but the banjoist on the left really stole the show. He had studied from some of the great pickers in Virginia, and as a picker he nose what he's doing. We sat back with carnival food on the grass while they did their thing. Awesome time.