Friendly, happy people, floating about in a make love not war bubble, believing in the magic of music and the immortality of the human spirit.  This is what we found at Summerfolk.

The air was heavy with humidity, the ground muddy from periodic rain, toes allowed the freedom of a barefoot dance through murky but satisfying puddles, a retro burn the bra mentality preached through the light frocks of unsupported aging hippies.  A lesbian couple lay beneath a tree, reading something lyrical, their closeness tender but sexless.  Toddlers toddled naked through fields of lawn chairs and blankets, clapping a rhythm against that which wafted from various stages.  The atmosphere was easy.  People were friendly.  Clothing was eclectic: kilts, capes, skirts, top hats, tutu's.  Hair was eclectic: dreads, perms, wigs, rainbows.  Music was eclectic: country, blues, rock, techno, folk.

Newborns to ancient.  Child to adult.  Man, woman, boy, girl.  All gathered for one purpose.  It was almost spiritual.

We sat on wet seats and didn't care, just leaned into each other, feeling the music, stealing kisses, vowing devotion to our new favorite girl band, (Baskery - 3 blond Swede's who rocked our socks off!), laughing at the dancing guy in the green shirt, loving the mom who was moshing with her teenage son, bobbing our heads to some old time country and liking it (even though I hate it on a regular day).  And when Samantha Martin started rasping out a soulful, You Are My Sunshine, I almost cried.

And rain?  Shmain!  It was a gorgeous day for a festival!