The Woodstock That Will Never Be Again

I was only 12 at the time of the original Woodstock Music Festival in 1969, and although there were kids my age and younger on the fields of Yasgur's Farm in Bethel, NY for those three days of peace and music, I wasn't among them.  As I watched the documentary that was created of it and listened to the stories from people who attended, including my brother and eldest sister, I had a sense that it was a once in a lifetime event and experience, never to be repeated.

Never to be repeated.

Never to be repeated.

Okay, it was repeated, or at least carried the name.

Music festivals are always, at their core, a commercial venue.  Yes, you might be there for the music, but there's a cost associated with bringing you that music, and those who organize and promote it with the name and money expect to recoup same and then some.  Commercial venue means profit.

There are those who shall remain nameless who seem to think that just because you slap a particular  name on something, it must run and will be a success.  There are those who shall remain nameless who believe that because they have right to the name that only they can bring you an event that is worthy of that name and spirit.  They may have a legal right, but that doesn't mean that folks want what they're offering anymore.  There comes a time when the vision gets blurred, when what brought one event to life morphs into something else and loses its power to draw. 

The Woodstock Music Festival of 1969 drew from a different time and energy than any of the events bearing its name since then.  It is a piece of music history and history in general that does and should stand apart from anything else. 

Woodstock 2019 has fallen to the wayside, cancelled just weeks before the 50^th anniversary.  It wasn’t just investors backing out, repeated location changes, and musical artists opting not to play.  There’s something more esoteric to its failure and I sincerely hope someone gets that concept. 

It’s time to pause and reflect, and time to stop trying to reinvent that musical wheel. 

Countdown to Spring - Well, We Made It

It was my intention to do a post yesterday on the last walk of winter and the first walk of spring, noting how it's so unusual to be able to do them both on the same day because spring started so late in the afternoon (5:58 PM EDST). 

However, I was sick yesterday with a fever that ultimately got to 104°F, sore throat, body aches, and feeling more than a bit tired.  Sounds a lot like flu, doesn't it?  But since I had the flu shot, med folks (yes, I did see my doctor, thank you) are loathe to call it that three-letter f-word without testing and nobody, including yours truly, wanted to jump the extra hoop.  So, stick a fork in it and  call it a 'flu-like illness' instead.  My apologies to any co-workers who were exposed to whichever it was.  I'm feeling much better today, with fever broken, sore throat and body aches just about nonexistent, and a lot more life in my swamp. 

But, I'm taking it easy for an extra 24 hours, and not taking a walk in the rain that is presently coming down at my location.  So my first walk of spring, and the subsequent blog entry, will likely be tomorrow or Saturday, whenever it stops raining.

See you then.

Happy Spring.

Countdown to Spring – Them!

No, not ...

From the 1954 film "Them!"

this one.


This one ...

I saw my first robin shortly after 7 AM this morning.  This was followed by two more 15 minutes later and two more just a few minutes ago.  I suspect our downright nice weather of the past couple of days which has melted about 75-80% of the snow cover helped in getting them to finally fly back to the Mid-Hudson Valley.



So, they have arrived.  I never doubted, but I was beginning to wonder if it was going to be April before I saw and heard my first one.  Did wonders for my mood, gotta say.

Only four days until Spring.

Countdown to Spring - Following the Sun

So, after our most recent bit of heavy snow (good packing stuff – great for snowball fights), we had what I think/hope is the last arctic blast of this season.  As with the first two episodes of polar vortex breakout, I did waterline vigil, getting up multiple times in the night and making sure I still had hot and cold water running through the pipes, not frozen somewhere before that to the point of needing to wait until late afternoon before I could have my morning shower.  Yes, I'm always bleary-eyed and needing coffee more than just wanting it after doing that, but it's totally worth the effort in my book.  Besides, I'm used to sleep deprivation.

Signs of oncoming spring have been elusive.  There are some birds doing what I consider spring singing, year 'round feathered residents claiming their territory.  But I haven't seen any migrators yet.  The robins have not made their presence known even to the folks who tell me I'm late in seeing them every year.  My favorite little pussy willow, which normally is already in early fuzzy bloom, is only starting to bud.  Trees are starting to show signs of life, but it's usually more pronounced by now, although my coworker who taps maple trees to make syrup every year says the sap is running and he wasn't talking about a political candidate, either. 

But the days are getting longer and the sun is coming up more to the north on the horizon and is higher in the sky now.  It's only been within the last two weeks, but I've noticed my cats are seeking out windows and the space at my balcony door during the sunny periods of the day.  With the sun brighter and therefore warmer than the rumpled covers on the bed where the human was previously, they are basking their furry butts.  I totally get it.

Thing is, even after the sun has moved on and the rays are no longer directly coming through the glass, they're still staring out onto the outdoor world, likely with as much anticipation as their owner of escaping the great indoors after all this time.  But, while daytime temperatures in the 40s are friendlier, which is where they are now and are predicted to remain right until the last day of this now dreary winter season, they're still not inviting cats or humans to stay outside for any length of time.  The snow is  going away, but there still a lot left.  Underneath it, though, is brown and even some green.  So, the end of this winter solstice really is coming and will become a memory in less than a month.  Honest.

If you have Daylight Saving Time where you live, it's likely starting this weekend, so don't forget to turn your clocks ahead one hour before you go to bed tonight unless the clocks do it on their own (some do).

Only 11 days until Spring.

Countdown to Spring – Seriously, Phil?

Yes, it's back - the once weekly version of this dull as dishwater series.  So, let us begin.

             Last night, as I have done for the last three nights, I maintained vigil on my waterlines to make sure they didn’t freeze by running both the hot and cold water taps for at least 30 seconds every 2-3 hours.  Yeah, sleep was less than ideal.  However, I had it happen New Year’s Day 2018 when the temperature went to -7°F.  It’s been below 0°F at night since Wednesday night, and there’s just something about waiting half a day for natural thaw and/or calling a plumber that made me decide to go for the sleep deprivation option.  It almost worked.  Had I not slipped up and checked it at 6 AM, I might still have hot water.  That’ll come back later today, though.  You might say let the water trickle or use heat tape on pipes for a better night’s sleep, but this is a unique situation where anything less than a periodic full-on tap run will not work.  Don’t argue with me – I get grumpy when I haven’t had at least my normal night’s sleep.

            But, I digress.  We turn to the south from here in New York to a little town called Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.  At around 7:25 this morning, they hauled the groundhog/woodchuck/whistling pig/destroyer of gardens and lawns named Phil out of his nice warm spot to go through the ritual of predicting how the rest of the winter is supposed to go.  This morning, it was proclaimed that Phil did not see his shadow, which allegedly points toward an early spring. 

Yeah, right.

Much as I would like to climb on that warmer and less snow and ice laden bandwagon, I have my doubts about Phil’s forecast this year.  Quite frankly, with it being maybe 10°F down there in Punxsutawney at the time, I think Phil was either hypothermic and couldn’t see or think straight, or he just wanted to get back in his nice warm hutch and told the throngs of people amassed there what they wanted to hear. 

We’re supposed to be getting some nice 40 and 50-degree weather here for the first few days next week.  It’s sort of the January thaw we didn’t get this winter.  I’ll enjoy the warm weather like everyone else.  It’s a great little respite.  But I know that the 12” of light fluffy snow that fell earlier this week will still be here after the temperatures drop back down into the more normal 20s and 30s during the day and 10s at night later on in the week.  Some of the mountains of snow that were created by bulldozers and front-loaders this past Wednesday will likely be there into March, if not until the first day of spring.

Yes, Punxsutawney Phil is right in that the weather will get better as time goes by.  It will get warmer, the migrating birds will return, the hibernators will come out of their dens, the grass will grow, the trees will come into leaf, and the flowers will bloom.  But I have a feeling it’s going to be on a normal seasonal schedule and nothing sooner.  Sorry, Folks.

Only 46 days until Spring.