Lessons Learned at Four Quarters Farm

Hello, there, chappies! It's me, Annie of the Appalachians, slinging more words your way! Catch 'em, share 'em, collect the whole set!

My three long-time readers will know that the biggest hurdle in my personal life has been the loss of my ties to the Appalachian farm that was in my family for ... oh ... thirteen or so generations. Really. I have an ancestor who died in 1778 whose grandfather lived in those parts.

At just about the same time that the last generation of Johnsons were dying out or moving away from Polish Mountain, a campground called Four Quarters Farm opened at the other end of the Zip code. It was quite a joke at the time, because Four Quarters started out as a completely clothing-optional place. (Options have been scaled back but not abandoned at present.)

It's no coincidence that I started camping at Four Quarters the same year that my family sold the homestead. What is a coincidence is that Four Quarters Farm is for Pagans ... and I had become Pagan.

When I go to Four Quarters Farm, I meditate on the loss of my farm, the lack of Appalachian identity in my children, the loss of family and friends and anchor. This is the Great Work that I still have to do to find peace in my life: I've got to stay connected to the land even with the loss of ownership.

This year at 4QF, my friend Maebius came and was pretty much game for any silly endeavor I proposed. So I persuaded him to go hiking with me off site to a state forest trail that I recalled from my youth. (There are some very gorgeous hollows in those mountains, but they're hard to get into and out of.) We set out in search of a drop-dead gorgeous hollow that used to be easy to find on a well-marked trail. But that was 20 years ago. The trail isn't even marked any more. We discovered this only after hiking into a wicked thicket of new growth woods and stinging nettles.

We weren't lost, but we couldn't find a consistent path back out of the hollow. It was slow going. Thankfully we did have a nice pure stream at our side.

As we made our way down along the stream, back toward where I parked, we began noticing interesting topography. There were ornamental shrubberies grown wild. Rock walls abandoned. Masonry foundations in the middle of the woods. The area had once been populated. Now it's woods.

Maebius said, "Nature has really reclaimed this place."

This comforted me immensely.

The long-gone residents of those long-gone homes were no doubt kin of mine. They're probably buried up in Chaneysville. But their homes, yards, barns, bridges ... lost, all lost.

So, too, will this be with my great-grandfather's land. Once the kinship tie is broken, and the property owners are absentee or foreign, Nature moves in. There's a stubborn grove of locust trees where my great-aunt Belle had her magnificent garden. Carpenter bees have eaten the barn; it was torn down this year. The pastures are growing in because only deer are grazing them.

Appalachia is still under attack by mountaintop removal mining and fracking, but at least in the little patch where I came up, Gaia has moved in and is reclaiming. Now that no Johnsons live along Johnson Road anymore, I beseech Her to expand Her reach.  Let there be trees. Let there be woods. Let the roads grow in and the timbers crumble. Let the mountain forget us all. It was born in the days of the dinosaurs -- what do we matter to it, after all?

Gaia, take back what was yours, and thank you for letting us borrow the mountain for awhile. We didn't leave very much behind. Bright blessings to You.

Drum and Splash 2014

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored Go Camping!"

From Wednesday through Sunday past, I was at an event at a campground called Four Quarters Farm. The event is called Drum and Splash.

Four Quarters Farm has an embarrassment of riches when it comes to swimming holes. The property has three.

It's tough to do justice to a swimming hole in a photograph. And, since this particular swimming hole is under-utilized, you can't get a good perspective on its size. But take it from me, as a born-and-bred Appalachian, this is a quality swimming hole. Five stars outta five.

The swimming holes account for the "splash" portion of Drum and Splash. The "drum" portion consists of classes and seminars built around drumming. Almost everyone brings fancy djembe drums, but this year I was also happy to find dumbek classes for clueless beginners. I mean, I know so little about my drum that the teacher had to show me how to hold it. And when he said that a whole major beat is created with one finger, I contemplated aborting the mission. Instead I'll practice, because drumming is a wonderful thing.

After dark at Four Quarters Farm, the staff builds a bonfire, and there's an open drum circle. People dance around the fire. This goes on until the last person stops for the night, which means sometimes the drumming goes right on to dawn. The fire spinners also come out and practice their moves in the meadow. Elsewhere there's a big tent for guitars and storytelling and singalongs.

The Grand Finale of this event is a celebration that begins with a parade of dragons, bellydancers, drummers, straw men, and stilt-walkers. After they march across the meadow, the fire-spinners come out. After them, big ol' fireworks shoot up into the clear mountain air. Then everyone pours into the drum circle for Masters performances and much more drumming and dancing.

I don't have a single photo of any of it.

Some people can live and take photos of the living as it's happening. I can't seem to do that. Maybe it's because I grew up in the 20th century, and photos were staged ("everyone say cheese").

You know, I would be feeling really geezerish if I could come home and Google this event and find 1,000 vivid photos, but the pictures just aren't there. Drum and Splash is a be-in. People are doing stuff. No one is looking through the lens of an IPhone. Even the teenagers sit and talk to each other. And the place isn't off the grid. My phone worked to make calls. I was just too busy to point and shoot.

I know I have said this before. If you are looking for a Pagan-friendly place to bring your children, or just to chill out yourself, you cannot do better than Four Quarters Farm. Put it another way. Do you have a closet full of tie-dye you can't wear? Shove it in a satchel and go to Artemas, PA.

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Well well! Here we are at Solstice, and I still have another week of school to teach! It was a very, very snowy winter ... and now we at the Vo Tech are paying the price for all those cold, white days.

I'm already switching into summertime mode, though. I've got the micro meadow planted with good New Jersey native flora. The Shrine of the Mists is undergoing a cleanup and restoration, and my summer get-away is only ten days hence!

Out in south central Pennsylvania there's an interfaith campground called Four Quarters Farm. It's in the same Zip code as the former Johnson family farm, as well as the resting places of my ancestors for 13 generations, going back to the French & Indian War.

Used to be, when I wanted to clear my head, I would go to the family property and spend long days swimming, hiking, and reading. But all the Johnsons have cleared off the mountain now. There are a few here and there, in other parts of the township ... and maybe they would remember my name and face, but most likely not. This makes ambling about a bit of a dicey proposition. The last time I took a hike there alone I came upon a man in camouflage, carrying a hunting rifle, and nothing was in season. (Thankfully that included female hikers.)

Since I need to put the ancestral land beneath my feet, and since Four Quarters Farm is such a grand Pagan campground, I switched my recharge place. Today I am anticipating my five-day sojourn there, to an event called Drum and Splash, July 2 through 6.

Drumming and splashing are the two things you do at this event. There are several first-rate swimming holes on the campground property. One of them is clothing optional. This is delightful. So that's how I'll spend the day... swimming and reading. In the evenings the drum circles begin at dusk and go pretty much all night. I'm a firm believer that drumming is meditation for people who don't want to sit still. At Drum and Splash, I find like-minded souls, including even a few teachers who workshop the whole meditative drumming thing.

The folks at Four Quarters Farm had to go to county court and prove that they were a religious organization before they were accorded the tax exemptions that all other churches take for granted. That feat has been accomplished. As for the opinion of the regular residents of that Zip code regarding a Pagan campground in their midst, all I can say is that only the very few most ardent fundamentalist Christians have any beef with the place. Growing up in that area, I can tell you that the free spirits outnumbered the Christians, and the badasses outnumbered both. There's a refreshing "live and let live" attitude out there, bolstered in no small part by the shopping the campers do in the area during the summertime. Money talks, and Four Quarters Farm is good for the local economy, without doing any damage to the land.

If I lived closer to Four Quarters Farm, I would be a full member of the church and attend their Lunar celebrations. For now, though, I go drumming and splashing on the deluxe package, with a bunk in the bunkhouse and two meals a day, fires made by experts, and hikes led by guides.

So that is what I'm thinking about on this precious long day of Summer Solstice. Soon I'll be going to pay my respects to my ancestors. Soon I'll be taking the waters. Soon I will walk the land. Safely.

Not Your Typical Vacation Blog

I'm just back from vacation. I went to Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary in Artemas, PA. It was very fun.

Is there anything either more boring or more frustrating than hearing all about someone else's terrific vacation, while you were stuck in your dreary suburb mowing the grass and painting the porch? Yeah, I hear you. That's not why you come here to TGAB. You already know what a drum circle is, and you also know about Nature Spirits. What can I add?

It's therefore time for a little free advice. Remember, I have to pay you to take it, because that's the way our economy works these days. Send me an invoice.

FREE ADVICE FROM ANNE REGARDING YOUR SUMMER VACATION

Use maps wisely.


I got on the Pennsylvania Turnpike at Breezewood and drove to Philadelphia. I had $14.00 in my wallet. Surely that would be enough to travel 200 miles?

Imagine my dismay when I rolled into the tollbooth and saw $15.55 come up on the little monitor.

The toll taker, by his very expression, indicated he was unlikely to be swayed by any sort of abject plea.

I had to get out of my car, open the trunk, open my duffel bag, and root through it. Thankfully, there were three whole dollars more in the midst of all the damp clothing, flashlights, bug spray, and underwear. (The latter is really not needed at Four Quarters Farm, so long as every little thing is covered by something.)

A long line of Philadelphia drivers, getting longer by the minute, began regaling me with their car horns. A real Philly homecoming, I must say.

I paid the toll in full and was admitted onto the Sure Kill Expressway, portal to the City of Buzzardly Love.

These highway tolls are getting out of hand! So here's my free advice:

Take the scenic route.

If I had come back to Philadelphia on Route 30, at least as far as York, PA (admittedly through dozens of stoplights and little towns), I could have saved at least half of that robber baron toll.

Next year I will need to expand my already bountiful vacation budget to include more toll money. In the meantime, you can best believe I'll be scouting alternate routes to Four Quarters Farm.

I really hope this post satisfies the person who left the comment that I should travel more. Voila! I traveled. I was gone four days, a whole 250 miles (give or take).

Thank you for reading about my vacation.

Anne