Nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, this music and artisan camping festival has been host to the best in live entertainment for over twenty-years. The award-winning festival has been showcasing live art for folks in the shadow of the Appalachians with music, crafts and everything else in a primitive camping environment, or in some cases, downright primordial. Welcome to FloydFest Horizon “24: The Birth of FestivalPark. Thankfully, as warrior poets we are above petty comparisons and you’ll find no hubris here. Check your ego at the door.

Chanterelle was back in the proverbial pocket and everywhere she turned she ran into friends from Virginia and North Carolina. Getting all these people in one place is what FloydFest meant to her. Yes, things are quiet in your campsite because all your friends are out working. But have no fear. Headliners Joe Russo’s Almost Dead, Black Puma’s, Charlie Crockett and Sierra Ferrell showcased a stellar pack of live musicians along with The Wooten Brothers, Keller Williams, Sexbruise?, The Heavy Heavy, Maggie Rose, Leftover Salmon, Circles Around the Sun, Neighbor, EGGY, Town Mountain, WAR CHILE, Caitlyn Krisco, the Dead Reckoning and so many more. It was a weekend of brutally good, nonstop live music, frivolity and silly fun. Welcome home bad boy. This is FloydFest Horizon “24: The Birth of FestivalPark.                             Music. Magic. Mountains.

FestivalPark the new site for FloydFest, is located in Check, VA, between Roanoke and Floyd. The winding road from the 828 rolls through some of the prettiest mountain vistas anywhere. From Bristol through Galax and on to Shawsvegas, it’s impossible not to be humbled by the significance of these mountains as one of the cradles of American folk music. The site boasts several hills surrounding a scenic hollow with a small creek running through. Celebrating 20-plus years of bringing the artistry of live music info full focus via the art of the festival, Blue Cow Arts & Across-the-Way Productions have developed the new property to ready to welcome its first festival patrons. FloydFest is home and in it, a place where everyone can contribute and help the site grow and change. Professional wooks and stewards of the forest, from withers to brisket.

Chanterelle was roped in with Kamp Happiness and the wranglers media team with Four Day, Bfly and Leaux Leaux. She was making the walk uphill to VIP camping for the second time that day when she realized she had the Jello legs and her lower body was out of FloydFest practice. By the Sierra Ferrell set and a million steps later, her butt muscles had began to form and tighten. Relax fellas, the line forms to the right.

There was a time long ago, forgotten in the pages of history, when the wranglers had to invent colorful FloydFest tales just to fill the coffers. That time has thankfully passed and things are predictably more colorful each year. No need for hyperbole. Festival royalty, JBfly hit the ground running Wednesday night and forget what you know about the subtle crescendo, this is nary the slight slant of an infinity pool but rather the Blue Hole that goes straight down. It’s a new venue and occasional confusion is going to be common.

Expecting to be lodged in a Prevost X3-45 VIP Entertainer at worst, Chanterelle and rest of the wranglers media team hadn’t brought much camping or survival gear. Four-Day brought a canopy for Kamp Happiness which seemed reasonable as long as it didn’t rain. They made camp with the other media personnel near the creek, low-profile and close to everything. As usual, Bfly’s tent was constantly sliding off the mountain and there were few places to store her sundries and unmentionables.

Chanterelle wasn’t late for work at the VIP Lounge but she was doing her best. She’d walked up the mountain to the box office to be told the VIP check-in was at the other end of the park. She tried to get a ride from an obvious derelict on a golf cart, but one look at his sweat rings and mouth spittle and she was immediately convinced to walk the entire length of the park. And why not, if she was going to be coming to this place the rest of her life, she might as well get acquainted. At some point she realized she was blocked from the road and had to hop the fence and traverse the tall grassy area. She’d heard it was a protected space and not to be invaded, but she was a master naturalist and wetland preserves were one of her research specialties. Of course she’d heard stories of Stomp 76 and how those hippies really “used” the creek and few in attendance were prepared for those unusual types of waste management opportunities. Hail Charlie who came through in the clutch, pointing out the location of the VIP lounge. For everyone, ignorance was slowly blossoming into quasi-educated and moderately knowledgeable ambassadors. Be sure to watch out for the Pegans.

Devil’s Backbone Brewing Company Higher Ground Viewing Deck and Stage: Leaux Leaux knew she was going to spend many a set at this viewing platform. Having seen early photographs of the structure, she’d figured it was going to be the stage but now she could understand how this was just the viewing platform and the stage would be some mammoth structure to be built at a later day. This was all part of a grander work in progress. Merely the acorn that would become the oak.

Chanterelle had created a new hierarchy for her spectrum of friendship. Without the aid of a golf cart she noticed, over time, that she was repeatedly visiting camps close to her own elevation on the mountain profile. It was a gentle walk through the Hobbit village near Creekside Camping and around the way to Artist Camping. Once a night they would venture up the mountain to Canopy Camping and sniff out the jam circles lurking in the forest. Sunday night in front of the Depot showed the most promise for the future. That area was allowed to serve as a commons that remained lit and occupied for most of the night. It was a good place for musicians and listeners to collaborate and celebrate. Good idea. In the future, quiet campers should avoid that area if at all possible.

Leaux Leaux was the French girl who loved Billy Joel. She was traveling with her mother and when they got together, their vibrations merged into one harmonic cackle. The night before thought she’d seen a mole hole, or maybe a vole hole. She wasn’t even sure if voles lived in Virginia but this was definitely some type of ambiguous, burrowed space and she’d put her tent directly on top of it. No big deal at the time but later? Nightmare fuel. It would have been better if it had just been a dream. Hopefully it was. The mole nibbling at her underarm as she slept was hopefully a dream. The perfect hole in the tent, just above the one in the ground was not. It reminded her of the beach in Tulum and a certain crab that would occasionally check to see if she was still alive.

Floyd Country Store Workshop Porch Stage: Four-Day swung by the merchandise room just in time to witness the future of FloydFest. A slough of school-age children played gospel bluegrass on the Porch Stage. One in particular reminded him of Shane Turner as she played like a flamingo, perched on one foot. It was an easy way to tell if one was dealing with a crazy fiddle player.

Check out these offerings from visionary photographer, Cloud Bobby. Visit his Facebook page and witness the spectacle of the festival through his eyes. Also, one of the sweetest guys on campus.

She’d lost Imad sometime during the night and while searching for him she found Jeff and Crystal behind the stage eating some kind of vegan wrap. They steered her to Jeremy and Avery camped across from the VIP lounge. Their neighbor had a coconut filled with 100 proof Puerto Rican rum. Chanterelle wasn’t sure how it was different from an incendiary. Just add a wick and you’ve got a Puerto Rican coconut bomb which sounded like something a pirate might use. By the time she’d gotten back from exploring, they’d already finished the rum. Maybe it was easier to create than destroy.

Creekside Camping: She seemed serious enough as she leaned in. “Here. Want some mushroom juice?” He opened his mouth and the viscous fluid hit the back of his throat with such a force, splatter shot back out of his gaping maw. “What did you just do to me?” Goodnight sweet prince. Just lie back and let it happen. Hide in your tent until the Leftover Salmon set.

Bitchin’ Sauce VIP Stage: Wednesday showcased Kamp Happiness favorites Sexbruise? at the VIP stage. The team was blessed with a photo pit pass for the first time, eliminating the need for another emotional face-off in the pit.

Family cast asunder by the unfamiliar terrain. The Asheville annex had moved in to Creekside Camping, Kamp Happiness West moved into Artist Camping and the rest of the thugs were scattered throughout Canopy Camping. Higgly-piggly to be sure. In the words of Buddha, “the only constant is change”.

Of course you got lost. You were supposed to get lost. It’s your first rodeo. Bfly got so lost Wednesday night, she imagined she might not find the vehicle by Mexican Monday. Charlie took his shift, Sexy Baby helped out until near sunrise. It takes a village and some who wander are completely lost.

Chanterelle was being a bit persnickety by the time she got to work. As usual it was Brett’s fault. He and a wild-eyed Afghani had picked her up behind VIP stage and instead of taking her up the hill to work, he gave her a lift the wrong way. Along the way he explained that more serotonin was released into the brain from cold water than from face drugs. While that didn’t make complete sense, he was sure he’d never met an ice immersion whore.

Canopy Camping: Big Betty ended up spending most of her time between the admin building and the box office. Somewhere in there was JBone and his crossroads jam. She stayed till 3am the first night and sunrise the next night as things began to look and feel like FloydFest. She hooked up with Mr. Beautiful and dragging the mandolin and bull fiddle, the two of them took off in search of adventure in the morning twilight. It’s good policy to keep moving at this time of the day lest you want your megaphone slung in the lake. #truth

Relax everyone, it’s ok to sleep in your car. Do they have vagrancy laws in this county? The officer said, “No worries. I’m just going to search your car and as long as you don’t have anything illegal, you should be good to go.” Famous last words. Next stop, a pod with seventy-four other thugs watching Cops. By day three, Four Day and Bfly were sharing a toothbrush. Chanterelle wasn’t claiming to be the world’s best busboy but one never really forgets. She was reminded of Lightnin’ Steve Little, before he was the face of the wranglers, when asked what his favorite festival job was, he simply stated, “Whatever. I don’t care as long as I’m at the show.” He remembered the two  of them setting up the parking lines in D Lot, dancing in the morning glories, shirtless and unafraid.

During The Jared Stout Band, Chanterelle ran into Betsy coming from behind the VIP stage. She was pilfering two large cans of sweet-heat peanuts. Sexy Baby and Rachel, the wranglers Christmas Jam media team showed up for both WAR CHILE shows. Sexy baby showed up chewing on a mushroom stem that resembled a chicken bone as if he’d just walked from behind a Bohangles dumpster. “Ooh, there’s one with some meat on it.”

Lucienda had made it her life’s mission to strive to break down the societal barriers between the VIPness and the proletariat. For this festival, wrangler research and development produced original wrangler VIPness laminates in the hopes of saturating the  lanyard/laminate pool. In addition to the late-night, renegade fun, these bits of festival flair not only signify like-minded thugs, but when folded hot dog style can be useful when collecting Detroit dry wall. Several “operatives” found themselves on the greener side of the VIPness fence all thanks to the new credentials. “Sir, your laminate is not on the sign.” “Yes, obviously it’s not on the sign. It’s on the updated sign.”

Chanterelle lost her peach moon rocks during ingress but they still had some 828 and some kush cake leftover from Michigan. During her first shift her betters gave her three hours off in the middle of the day. Do what you want but this is FloydFest. She knew if she went wandering it was very possible she would eventually get into some shenanigans with like-minded folks.

Four Day recalled the story of the abusive boyfriend whose job on the horse farm included epididymal sperm harvesting. Apparently there is no shelf life on revenge.

They stood next to each other at the VIP showers. One wore a t-shirt that read, “Lebowski 24, This aggression will not stand.” and the other wore a Claypool/Strings 24. They ultimately agreed it was unwise to get political at the festival but in the end, it was good and fair that both parties were represented.

Mama Jill told the story that the story of how the groupie eventually becomes the groadie, part groupie part roadie. Still giving up the booty but at some point, carrying amps. “For somebody that has absolutely no idea what’s going on you sure do have plenty of opinions.”

Delta Lot Memories. There was a report of Wilbur eating Mike helms bottom teeth and showing off the prettiest dog smile you ever did see. Some people are just not cut out to live onsite.

Please don’t fuck the vibe. Chanterelle said, Ben shot back, “To be honest, I cannot make that promise. I’m very attracted to the vibe.”

At some point behind VIP, Chanterelle noticed Tyler and Bertha parked in Artist Camping. Having found earlier success cutting across the protected ditch she thought she’d try it again. Two steps in she realized she’d make an grave error as she sunk, waist deep, down into the Vietnamese ditch water. It would be the last lesson she’d require and from then forward she would gladly take the long way around. Before she’d been dealing with ticks and now she could add leeches to her wildlife bingo card.

Go for Sam.

Big Betty drug herself up the mountain in hopes of finding a pickin’ circle somewhere near the crossroads. They found Jeremiah there sucking on his harmonica. They’d been Delta Lot neighbors during his first FloydFest, too long ago to remember. She met up with Mr. Beautiful and his mandolin just out looking for trouble. Never forget, at it’s core, FloydFest is a pickin’ festival. Don’t forget, capos are mandatory in Virginia. Why play in G when A flat is available?

Lucy woke up with a tick dug into her skull. She tried using a grapefruit spoon to dig the proboscis out of her fontanel. She was trying to stay ahead of the rash. No one would allow her to blame her bad behavior on Bell’s Paulsy. With her luck, it was a Lone Star and the Alpha-gal would cut her off from any more of Crystal’s jello shots. With a large cavity in her scalp, she was reminded of what the Roanoke witches chanted when they burned a tick. “The power of Christ compels you!” Nichole screamed that you couldn’t flick a tick of one’s back to which he calmly reminded her it could be done in transit.

Who would know where to go? Would Sexy Baby sleep all day without Big Betty to roust him up? Important questions for important people. Welcome to the thirteenth floor, Research and Development.

Canopy Grovestage: Kamp Happiness West popped up in Artist Camping along with the WAR CHILE crowd. Shirtless drummers and mountain folk sleeping in tree hammocks. When Craig County folks are around, you can just feel a different tingle in the wind.

This was everyone’s introduction to FestivalPark and continued imagination will be the driving force in its growth because here, in this secluded hollow in the hills, anything is possible. There was still a mountain of lingering questions that hadn’t yet been answered but in the end, some mysteries are best left unsolved.

Monday morning Bfly packed up in the rain. They would forgo their usual late checkout and head for the nearest Mexican restaurant. Her feet were bruised from a weekend of bouldering and what must have been poison ivy. Chanterelle had also been up all night, following Big Betty from jam to jam, eating the rest of Imad’s lost Sunshine Daydream. Her adventures took her to the Depot which apparently had no “quiet hours” allowing the family jam to stumble through forgotten lyrics until sunrise. Look for Kamp Happiness somewhere hear these crossroads next year.

Thanks to FloydFest for, once again keeping the wranglers in the fold. Their operation is one of the classiest in the business. Visit their website and like their social media channels on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter/X YouTube, Spotify, and TikTok. And while you’re lost in the warren of the etherweb, stop by some of the wook wranglers social media platforms. The future is nigh. Are you not influenced?

Somewhat surprised, Chanterelle had survived the gauntlet. Small dog was still in effect. Follow her and the rest of the team as they gear up for what hopes to be a “sporting” October in Live Oak, Florida with Suwannee Roots Revival and Hulaween.

#music #magic #mountains

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Welcome back leaf lookers to the land that time forgot. Blackberry thicket, pine, spruce and gherkin littered the ridges up to the summit. According to tradition, the surrounding area was principally a hunting grounds by Indians, including the Canawhay tribe. Six hundred years later the tradition continues. Bring what you got. It’s time for the potluck. When it was all said and done, they left it all up on the mountain and you can’t put the Poligrip back in the tube.

Deer everywhere, all very young and just standing on the side of the road, hanging out with Evan Williams, smoking Parliaments and showing off their tattoos like a pack of Richmond thugs. The best belonged to the doe with her baby daddy’s name written in cursive on the back of her furry neck.

Some places possess a strong spiritual energy. Perhaps significant events occurred there, like battles or religious ceremonies. Maybe the spot was located near a special place like a mountain, cave or craft brewery. A holy place that could maintain the significance for hundreds of years. There would be ghosts and memories that would live forever in that place. The ghosts would know. The trees would know. They saw what you did, you filthy bastard. You can try to wash your mouth out with soap again, but it won’t help. Sometimes the dirt won’t come out.

“This year I’m not going to get completely spun.”

Lunchbox made that statement on Tuesday. Three days later he’d slept for a total of four hours. But what choice did he really have? This was FloydFest and a mosaic patchwork of some of the most fun people on the planet. He’d trained for this his whole life and it was time to show off and let the freak flag unfurl.

They pulled in the Fridane before the festival for the last of the work weekends. They didn’t care what was happening as long as they were able to pull into camp, drop off the metric ton of bullshit and scoot the Oldsmowagon back up to staff camping with Sawmill and his cooler of High Noons.

But the “gentlemen” at the gates were waiting.

Poised like Panamanian border agents, they were both wearing all black fatigue gear and sporting plastic assault rifles. It was immediately obvious that new security protocols had been implemented. Before too long they had Baitibucket knuckle deep in a cavity search and were checking Miss Cali like it was Midnight Express. (ed.note: Not sure hyperbole is still a thing. Please stick with hearsay and conjecture.)  

Lucy, Miss Cali and Four Day Old Brie were looking to slide into camp with their hair on fire and play small dog for a few days. Literally. Baitbucket couldn’t understand the thinking. The wooks are getting in anyway. One might as well put them to work. For all her assorted hustles, Lucy had accumulated six festival bracelets including the Vendor/Volunteer one found outside the Food Lion. Four Day Old Brie had developed a case of Alpha-gal and was struggling to hold down her gelatin. Fortunately during the deluge, the party with Beantown Barbeque and the bottle of tequila kept everyone warm and toasty. At the AirB&B The Dankness woke up to find Lunchbox in her recliner with his hands down his pants. Believe what you want.

Navy Seal Conditioning System. Baitbucket spent Monday setting up the HQ in the rain and the groundscored card table had begun to sag and puddle. At some point in the afternoon he got his foreskin caught in his zipper for the first time since fifth grade and the screams could be heard all the way to Meadows of Dan. The Kitten blew in Tuesday like a cloud of mustard gas and it may well have been his fault the entire camp stayed up Tuesday night. By the time of the Wednesday Sharkbruise? set at the Beer Garden stage he was seen flirting with the girl from Virginia Beach. Lucy screamed, “Don’t do it. That’s why they’re called Chesafreaks!” For God’s sake, crack a book. Later, it was suspected he’d been hit in the head with a hickory nut and failed concussion protocols before waking up next to Rock Castle Creek.

Was it Thursday? Maggie supplied the Chicken of the Woods and Mr. Beautiful cooked it up in buttery deliciousness. Where was Clay with the morels with deer meat? Shawsvegas in summer is the place for wild mushrooms. Miss Cali stopped off to check out The Judy Chops and pick up Stanely the Manly on her way to the Frick Frack Blackjack table. How many wet souls can you get for one fat dreadlock? Oh, you’re not allowed to use dreadlocks as frick frack? Shut the front door. Don’t you know, the big ones carry more memories. Keep your wet souls to your stinky self and remember, butterflies don’t make all the rules.

“Be not a cancer on the Earth.”

Kamp Happiness Girl Power: You can close your eyes if you want Marion, but it’s not going to stop. The X chromosomathon landed on Kamp Happiness like a clear photograph of the mother ship. The Hot Waffle Iron, a Blue Ridge Girl, a Judy Chop and the buskers all showed up to lend a little sound to the HQ side A. Even Old Crow and War Chile dropped some donations into the renegade set plate. I’m sorry sir, do you have the proper lanyard?

VIPness: Is it wise to let the Mexicans run The Hurt’s margarita bar? Like Tamiami Sammy said, “If it doesn’t have okra it’s not gumbo, if it doesn’t have salt it’s not a margarita. Maybe a little Kentucky Ruckus before heading into town for chimichangas. Just wait until Monday because it’s not a secret anymore. And be wary of bartenders from Richmond working the Bloody Mary bar. You know how they be.

Baitbucket could no longer trust his double vision eyes. The nights without sleep were beginning to compound and things were becoming a bit “sporting”. On his way back from the Marcus King shredathon at Hill Holler, he witnessed a woman playing the stand up bass while wiggling around on her back like some kind of python. Things were starting to devolve to the point that not long after, someone placed a can of temporary fluorescent hair color directly beside a can of bear mace. Again, the screams could be heard as far as Meadows of Dan.

You don’t need your ego to cry like a girl with a skinned knee. The festival might not be the apropos place to have a jaw-dropping, eye-opening group revelation but again, there may be no choice in the matter. Say goodbye to the ego, this is full immersion festival therapy. Lucy closed one of her eyes. Things were starting to come at her too fast. Singers and shredders were zipping by at light speed. The Low Water Bridge Band swung in for a few tunes not long before the morning shit birds were poised to chirp under the shine of Venus. Even Adam’s kids in the nook slept quietly while the adults wept and jabbered.

Moist, Verging on Damp: Bfly was basically living under a tarp for the first time since her Rainbow Gathering days. For real. No tent of which to speak. The night before, her tent had rolled down the hill with her in it and ended up as someone else’s groundscore. Her luggage was soaking wet and strewn everywhere. Brie came through with the bright idea to put tarps over the ez ups but the damage had been done. By day three of the wetness Bfly was making grunting noises and had reverted back to the way of her feral ancestors.

Baitbucket had been so impressed with the festival he could no longer continue to use the traditional tropes and literary devices available. Sure, it was a great party but how many different ways were there to describe the beauty of the mountain party? Over the course of twenty years in this location, how many bands had broken through? How many people had fallen in love. How many friendships were founded that would last for life? How many blowjobs? This year couples were poised to get married and grandmothers and uncles were ready to pass on as the wheel keeps turning. Indeed.

Someone put the Kitty to work with Hen and Jason in the motor pool so he already had all the keys. Go with your strengths. Beantown Skippy and Doug Fresh were in charge of signage, thus making it personal with the sign thieves. Lucy had her eyes on the mermaid at site ops but that was pillaged by Sunday by a thief with more gumption. She wanted to sneak into the photo pit and take photographs of Melissa Etheridge but sometime during the week, Lucy lost her new digital camera. Along with the computer she forgot at Bonnoroo this tour was getting expensive.

And then it happened again. He was sleeping in his soaking wet, open air tent covered in what was left of someone else’s dried clothes when he heard the sing-song sound of musicians around the table. It was time to get up from the disco nap and find the staff party. In a blessed act of contrition, Beantown Juicy Fruit offered the handle of grapefruit vodka. Later at Rock the South in Culman, they would learn that in a water bottle it looked identical to Pedialyte. Wookie camouflage to be sure. Just like a Subaru Outback in the 828. It ended up at Camp Opulence and for his part in the altercation, Mr. Beautiful was subsequently lashed to a pine tree and slathered in clover honey. The woodland critters were allowed to lick at him until their bellies were plump.

For all the successful FloydFest themes and titles, there are always a few that don’t make it past the drawing board. Here are some forgotten samples.

Top Ten Rejected FloydFest Themes:

• Ticks Alive!
• Polyamorousity
• Incest, Racism and Syphilis 1875
• Rosie’s Wild Chicken Bus Ride
• Fuzzy Photographs For Days
• Satania
• “I’m good friends with Sam”
• Polkathon 2000
• Boob Sweat
• Hillbilly World of Smells

FloydFest is loaded with the best kinds of degenerates. North Carolina men have big appetites for banjo music and adventure. Like the Girth. He was something different before the girl came around. Now it was all about pillows. Thirty-seven in his tent, not including the body pillow. Never give up on a thug. All it takes is a pretty girl to round off the edges of the typical savage.

Hey now. Be sure to visit the Across the Way Productions website and become one with another dimension of digital whimsy. Come into the light Carol Anne.

At some point Beantown Skippy and Roberto de Nube left the Big Daddy Love show, slipped in behind security and made their way to the wook nook. As usual, driving at unsafe speeds, the Beanman skidded to a stop directly on top of the rose garden which was in full bloom. Lucy stepped up and grinned. “Hey boy, those were my grandmother’s roses. And that’s a real nice pit pass you got there.” “I say we roll him for his shoes. You take the pass,” Miss Cali chimed. Eventually a sacrificial handle of peach moonshine got all the ships pointed in the right direction. From here on out, it would be all business. Be on the lookout for one of the last mountain festivals before the weather turns “south”. Major Malfunktion Music Festival is headed your way.

Check out the gallery from Cloud Bobby Productions. Visit his website, Facebook and Instagram.

Lucy had definitely been wrangled into this Virginia/North Carolina crowd and would keep coming back as long as they would let her. She never figured this was going to last forever but things were getting a mite comfortable. There was a time when she had to lie to come up with a good festival story. When it comes down to brass tacks, the truth is more fun. The FBI and insurance companies haven’t used wook wranglers testimony in court yet. Mind the privacy tapestries. If you don’t see what’s happening, you can’t be an accessory.

“Be like Charlie. Always.”

You have found your way through the maze and into the FloydFest etherweb adventure! Find their website and like their social media channels on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Spotify Pressmerch and two tin cans hooked up by kite string. All the things.

Don’t cry sweet Hafiz. Music festivals move all the time. The place is special and so are the people that make it happen. The crew, the bands, artists, freaks and even Benjamin will all follow and something new will be born. And there’s always a possibilities of new blowjobs. Memories, fantastic and fresh just waiting to take hold. Les is probably already there picking out the new spot. It’s good to know people. This was the last dance on Buffalo Mountain. Get ready for the first dance on the new spot and don’t be a wallflower. Le purrr.

Be sure to visit the wook wrangler archives and check out some of our new installations from the world of the Electric Forest. Keep up with the wranglers as we linger in the mountains for another month and then it’s back to Florida and the fall tour of lost souls. We look forward to seeing the mountain people in February, when they get tired of the cold.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Namaste y’all.

Let’s be clear. When you involve the wook wranglers it should come with some expectations. They are going to get there a little early and set up nonstop action sequence of interactive festival fun (full immersion festival therapy). They are also going to stay a little late and clean up their business. Know what you’re getting into and don’t be surprised when the Danger:Swamp sign goes missing. Also look for the Kamp Happiness Pickin’ Tent filled with an eager staff of trained professionals ready to “serve” twenty-four hours a day. Check out Cornucopea Festival for more information on the wrangler commons area installation. That’s an invitation. Don’t be scared.

Epilogue: Two weeks later Lucy was working Alan Jackson VIP in Savannah, Georgia when a bartender suggested she visit Abe’s on Lincoln. “You’ll like it,” she said. “Plenty of wooks there.”

Perfect…

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