Festival Finds

Something about this time of year pulls me home.  Perhaps its the scent of kettle corn cooked at the Hungry Mother Festival.  Or the antique and unique sights at the Highlands Festival.  This weekend, I’ll claim that it was the sound of bluegrass music from the Galax Fiddlers Convention.  Each one causes nostalgia, like a summer camp.  Go for a week; get your fill, and return to the quotidienne, exhausted, exhilarated and already looking forward to next year.

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