Post by Sir Black Fox on Oct 31, 2009 0:43:25 GMT -5
It's the first day in months that I won't be driving 1.5 hours down 95, looking for that exit to I-97 (the shortest interstate in the United States) and then the Crownsville exit.
It's the first day in months that I don't hear cannonfire to REALLY start my day.
It's the first day in months that I don't get the hugs and handshakes from the men and ladies that I consider the best friends I've ever had.
It's the first day in months that I can't rationalize having a hard cider or an ale at 1030 in the morning. . . and noticing I'm not alone in that rationalization.
It's the first day in months that I don't give a Klingon chest salute to Ray the guard and be granted either a hug or a wink from His Majesty, King Fred.
It's the first day in months that I won't growl at the O'Danny's first show when they ask men, "comfortable with their masculinity" to swoon. . . and have Daisy point at me and accuse me of creeping out the crowd!
It's the first day in months that I won't hear all the background noises of faire, from vendors to knights. . . . I won't smell the folding of iron from the blacksmith or the steak-on-a-stake. . . . I won't see the leaves changing from green to gold. . . I won't feel the sod/straw/chips/gravel/stone/dirt/mud of Revel Grove's lanes underfoot . . . and I won't taste an ice cold cider, washing down a Scotch Egg.
It's the first day in months that I'll be sad.
It will also be the first day in months that I get to experience the expectation of a new season of The Maryland Renaissance Festival and all the joy that suspense brings. Melancholy over the season that's spent but joyous in hope that the faire will do what it always does. . . . evolve into a spectacular event that exceeds every expectation. . . and brings with it more magic than the year before.
It's the first day to share a new season with everyone at www.friendsofmdrf.org
It's the first day in months that I don't hear cannonfire to REALLY start my day.
It's the first day in months that I don't get the hugs and handshakes from the men and ladies that I consider the best friends I've ever had.
It's the first day in months that I can't rationalize having a hard cider or an ale at 1030 in the morning. . . and noticing I'm not alone in that rationalization.
It's the first day in months that I don't give a Klingon chest salute to Ray the guard and be granted either a hug or a wink from His Majesty, King Fred.
It's the first day in months that I won't growl at the O'Danny's first show when they ask men, "comfortable with their masculinity" to swoon. . . and have Daisy point at me and accuse me of creeping out the crowd!
It's the first day in months that I won't hear all the background noises of faire, from vendors to knights. . . . I won't smell the folding of iron from the blacksmith or the steak-on-a-stake. . . . I won't see the leaves changing from green to gold. . . I won't feel the sod/straw/chips/gravel/stone/dirt/mud of Revel Grove's lanes underfoot . . . and I won't taste an ice cold cider, washing down a Scotch Egg.
It's the first day in months that I'll be sad.
It will also be the first day in months that I get to experience the expectation of a new season of The Maryland Renaissance Festival and all the joy that suspense brings. Melancholy over the season that's spent but joyous in hope that the faire will do what it always does. . . . evolve into a spectacular event that exceeds every expectation. . . and brings with it more magic than the year before.
It's the first day to share a new season with everyone at www.friendsofmdrf.org