Spoutwood May Day Fairie Festival, and I haven't said a word about it! I didn't even invite Mushu and Grape, last year's most popular dragons! I haven't gotten out my garb ... The only thing I did was to put the Mountain Tribe banner in the trunk of the car (fearing I would forget it).
Part of the reason I haven't said much about this year's Fairie Festival is that it will be very bittersweet for me. Don't tell anyone ... shhh ... but I'm going to resign as Tribe leader after this year.
You can't talk me out of this. It's not ethical to be leader of the Mountain Tribe when you live in the tidal flats and own no property in the mountains. Say what you want about the mountains being in my heart and my heritage. It's still not the same.
Also, I'm just getting to a time in life when I don't want any responsibilities outside the enormous burden of school and family. I've ranted about this before. There comes a time in the life of every sane person when they just say NO to volunteering.
Fairie Festival isn't like the Mummer's Parade, where you show up for one drunken rehearsal, pay for a costume you don't have to make, and spend a day pie-eyed in the streets of Philly.
It also isn't like Buzzard Day, which consists of renting a costume and spending three hours strutting around in it.
Fairie Festival is more like performing ... and serious performing at that. There's a deep spirit there that must be taken seriously.
Well, that should tell you all you need to know. "Serious" is not in my vocabulary. It sends me into blue screen. Go ahead. Say it. Tell me, "Anne you have to be serious about this." And then watch me curl up into a fetal position, whimpering for my blankie.
Spare has been my co-leader for the past three years. But next May she will be in finals week ... college. Wouldn't be right to continue without her.
So, if you're in the neighborhood of Glen Rock, PA, and you want to join the Mountain Tribe for the swan song of Anne and Spare, please make yourself known! Look for the neon tie-dye on Saturday and a more muted robe on Sunday. 2012 will forever be the year I lost my farm. Moving forward, I'll be in the Tribe, but it deserves a leader who walks the walk.