Lilies War Redux.
Jun. 23rd, 2009 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kellan_the_tabbyWhy I will never go to Lilies War again:
The humidity.
Why I will go to Lilies War every year for the rest of my life:
The site is beautiful. The lake, the trees, the little clearings in the woods for small campsites. The neatly graveled paths. The size -- big enough for everyone who wants to camp, small enough that you can get from there to here.
The people are amazing. Calontir is friendly, welcoming, helpful; they put up my tent, helped close up when the rain hit with no warning, wrangled the kitten and fed me dinner. I was invited into camp, fed water and fine meals, got help with carrying heavy things, even got a spot of impromptu car repair, mostly by folk I'd met five minutes before.
The fireworks (though Loiosh disagrees PROFOUNDLY).
The A&S -- an all-day candle-making demo right next to my shop, classes in anything and everything, competitions for anyone from beginner to Laurel. The Machine (about which more later).
The cries. I could have set my clock by them if I'd had one. 'At home you flush. At Lilies War, you close the lid.' Why do they not say this at every event?
The lake. Did I mention the lake? I only got into it once but such are the wages of being stuck at your booth.
The merchants. Lovely folks. Made some dear friends (in fact they're the ones who dragged me down to the lake). Spent the week helping each other out, watching booths, pulling things inside during the rain, tightening ropes and stakes when the wind picked up. Got some gorgeous things via trading over the last couple of days.
The singing. I know, we've all known that about Calontir since we joined the SCA, but I never really _knew_. They sing. Well. Frequently. Beautifully. Cheerfully. Inclusively (I left with a Calontir Teaching CD II, though it wound up staying with a friend in Kansas). They knew I was from the Outlands, and pressed it on me anyway.
The cats. Loiosh and I met one grownup cat (Siam, a flame-point Siamese who is as friendly as Loiosh) and two kittens -- one orange, one white-and-orange. I sense a theme here. Loiosh had really no idea what to do about the kittens at first, though he eventually figured out 'play gently cos they're babies'. Which was filled with adorable. There will be pictures; a few, anyway.
...alas, I think the humidity has won out. There is very little that will make me as constantly miserable as high humidity -- I didn't sleep well, couldn't eat, couldn't focus, couldn't _think_. The only time I was remotely comfortable all week was the half-hour or so I spent in the lake, and alas, I can't live there (though I did suggest moving the merchant area to houseboats). I am so very glad to be home, with my mountains and my cats (I missed Chocolate and even Samson like burning) and my beautiful dry Colorado air.
If I could move all of Calontir to Colorado, or even just find a nice Lilies site in western Kansas where the air is decently dry, I do believe I'd be the happiest woman on the planet.
The humidity.
Why I will go to Lilies War every year for the rest of my life:
The site is beautiful. The lake, the trees, the little clearings in the woods for small campsites. The neatly graveled paths. The size -- big enough for everyone who wants to camp, small enough that you can get from there to here.
The people are amazing. Calontir is friendly, welcoming, helpful; they put up my tent, helped close up when the rain hit with no warning, wrangled the kitten and fed me dinner. I was invited into camp, fed water and fine meals, got help with carrying heavy things, even got a spot of impromptu car repair, mostly by folk I'd met five minutes before.
The fireworks (though Loiosh disagrees PROFOUNDLY).
The A&S -- an all-day candle-making demo right next to my shop, classes in anything and everything, competitions for anyone from beginner to Laurel. The Machine (about which more later).
The cries. I could have set my clock by them if I'd had one. 'At home you flush. At Lilies War, you close the lid.' Why do they not say this at every event?
The lake. Did I mention the lake? I only got into it once but such are the wages of being stuck at your booth.
The merchants. Lovely folks. Made some dear friends (in fact they're the ones who dragged me down to the lake). Spent the week helping each other out, watching booths, pulling things inside during the rain, tightening ropes and stakes when the wind picked up. Got some gorgeous things via trading over the last couple of days.
The singing. I know, we've all known that about Calontir since we joined the SCA, but I never really _knew_. They sing. Well. Frequently. Beautifully. Cheerfully. Inclusively (I left with a Calontir Teaching CD II, though it wound up staying with a friend in Kansas). They knew I was from the Outlands, and pressed it on me anyway.
The cats. Loiosh and I met one grownup cat (Siam, a flame-point Siamese who is as friendly as Loiosh) and two kittens -- one orange, one white-and-orange. I sense a theme here. Loiosh had really no idea what to do about the kittens at first, though he eventually figured out 'play gently cos they're babies'. Which was filled with adorable. There will be pictures; a few, anyway.
...alas, I think the humidity has won out. There is very little that will make me as constantly miserable as high humidity -- I didn't sleep well, couldn't eat, couldn't focus, couldn't _think_. The only time I was remotely comfortable all week was the half-hour or so I spent in the lake, and alas, I can't live there (though I did suggest moving the merchant area to houseboats). I am so very glad to be home, with my mountains and my cats (I missed Chocolate and even Samson like burning) and my beautiful dry Colorado air.
If I could move all of Calontir to Colorado, or even just find a nice Lilies site in western Kansas where the air is decently dry, I do believe I'd be the happiest woman on the planet.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 08:30 pm (UTC)This song is not from Calontir??? ;>
no subject
Date: 2009-06-24 02:35 am (UTC)(It does sound lovely, though, except for the humidity.)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-24 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-24 06:18 am (UTC)It sounds lovely, except for the humidity. You almost got me to try going until that reminder showed up. :(