Brainwaves of Sken

So, this weekend was the big annual beltaine campout. Every year it’s different – temperature, mood, location, and the people involved.

This year, I was the first to arrive. I whipped out five chairs and hung out with Dave and Lisa until more peeps arrived. Karinny was back from her trip around the world! I said, “You smell like horse!” and she said, “I know, isn’t it great?” She’s so cute.

As people continued to arrive, we started a fire, promptly setting fire to the fields and causing a panic amongst the hors– er, okay, it was like one little ember that we drowned in water before digging the fire pit out of it’s growth. :D But it could have been doooom!

The maypole is such a joyful experience. A dozen adults prancing about a giant wooden pe– er, pole, desperately holding onto ribbons in the hopes of getting a varyingly-chaste kiss at the end. Though it can be seriously funny to watch two straight men try to be “game” without being “gay”, hehe.

Then sunset, and the ritual. There are folks on my list who might have some … unusual ideas about what a beltaine ritual might be, but I bet they don’t think of glitter oil, wine and oreos, and big fucking sparklers at the four corners. ;) I thought it did a fine job of welcoming in the season, especially nick’s subtle “please?” after mentioning the warm winds to come. I think I should say we missed the boys, but Ari and SK did an admirable job. :D

Party commence! Amy made her page in my Big Black Book, and it was totally awesome. She captured the cheeky nature of last year’s beltaine with precision and charm. CJ and I played duelling cameras, and we ate dozens of GFS hotdogs. ;) D&L have a great new party room just begging for us all to come over and play games.

Did I mention there was drinking? Wellll, maybe a touch, really. A scoche. I did get in a pickle shot or two, though I am going to get my pickle brand next year – Klaussen will have its way!

I shared Lucy’s rum and Stephan’s rum – in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much rum direct from the bottle in my life. (My youth involved whiskey, heh!) I had a hangoverless morning, which I guess is the important part. If there were dramatics, I missed out on them, which is just fine by me. ;)

Alex handled the grill, and I wish I’d remembered to bring some meat. I don’t have a grill at home, so I must rely on the kindness of strangers in kilts. Lucy was hilarious during “I Never”, eager to bust out the big ones and get people drinking, heh. This was about when I started paying lip-service to the bottle of rum.

Late at night, Dave and Lucy were looking at the stars with his telescope, trying to discern Jupiter and Mars. The benefit of being in BFE is the stunning night sky and the splash of the Milky Way overhead. Dave splashed the huge log on the fire with magnesium, copper sulfate, and other brightly burning mixtures before setting off huge and professional-looking fireworks (also a bonus to living out in nowhere). I think I must have been at my most inebriated right then, because I’d be in the midst of conversation and feel my head involuntarily jerk upward to watch the arc of the fireworks, heh. Ooh, aaah. Also, they say that magnesium is kind of bright – you don’t understand until you’ve watched it burn through closed eyelids.

We slept on an air mattress (thanks to D&L) covered with two sleeping bags, with two quilts and a sheet upon us. I guess I got chilly once in the night, but lucy wasn’t able to get to sleep until 5 or so. It probably did get to 40 degrees, but at least the wind seemed to die down.

The morning came early (how does that happen? I have no idea) and I was the first out of bed. I cleaned up the bottles, cans and cups, and read a little before anyone stirred. The sky was blue, the trees were intensely green and gently waving, and the horses in the field next to ours were romping about. I found myself smiling, despite the serious nature of the events in my book.

By 10, the tents were heating up and people could no longer sleep it off, so Ween Acres looked more like a zombie retirement center – lots of shuffling and moaning. We rolled things up, and I went in to alert our lovely hosts to the impending CrackerBarrelage.

With only a brief stop to check on SarahKate and Stephan (who was facing the downside of a fifth of rum), we made our way to the vital ritual of the weekend – a Cracker Barrel lunch smack in the middle of Mother’s Day. It’s like our great sacrifice, and we must have been good little boys and girls this year because we got in quickly, were served the right things, everything tasted good, and we got out with only one casualty.

Lucy and I hit up Hot Fuzz before I made my way home to Plymouth – I laughed a lot, and she said she enjoyed it too, but I’ve decided that (unlike Shaun of the Dead), I don’t think I’d buy the movie. It’s one of those movies I think is great once, but only necessary to watch that one time.

Anyway, my favorite part of these beltaine evenings is the late-night conversations, the camraderie, and perhaps the blindingly bright moon. Or seven, as the case may be. Lots of chances to bond with people I don’t get to see as often as I’d like, and even, as it turns out, the opportunity to make some long overdue peace.

With one day between us, I feel sunburnt and my lips are cracked dry from the wind. I’m tired as all get out, and my Saturday-night clothes smell powerfully of smoke. And I feel like I did some growing of my own, some renewing, maybe even some blossoming. It is very, very good.

Galleries: Mine | CJ’s