Saturday 22 June 2013

The Garden Fair

Today I went to a Garden Fair.  Very pleasant it was too.  The sun was shining and I could tell I was walking in the right direction by the jolly music wafting across the parked cars.  The music was from a band of zylophone players (zylophonophonists?) with a modest audience camped out on the grass, including one slightly over zealous zylophone lover who was dancing with gay abandon.  I visited all the stands, which included help in how to eradicate gophers, and strange birdboxes shaped like musical instruments.

The main marquee looked shady, so I sat at the back and became engrossed in a passionate talk about bees. I hadn't appreciated the thermal qualities of the bumble bee before, nor realised that honey bees only arrived in America with European settlers.  After that was a very good talk on the health giving properties of the organic kitchen garden.  It started to get a bit complicated, but I came out resolving only to eat garlic, parsley and broccoli in the future.

My head was a bit full at this point, so the sign directing me to spiritual healing and massage looking quite inviting.  I suspected it was just going to be inter-uterine whale music and sandalwood joss sticks, but felt ready to give it a go.

The healing was happening in a small community hall.  Yes, there were some warbling whales in the background, and someone wafting incense from a conch shell while women on benches were massaged by men with beards and pony tails (don't panic, everyone was wearing clothes).

Also in the corner, was a young man in a baseball cap, unobtrusively hitting a very large gong with a soft drumstick.  There was a very comfy looking seat, covered in sheepskin so I decided to sit and listen.  The over zealous zylophone lover came to lie on the rug at my feet, which was a bit 'in my space' but as I was in California, I decided to try to lose some of my British uptightness.

The noises that started to come from the big gong (I later found out it was a Chau) were absolutely jaw droppingly amazing.  Rolling thunder, lightning, wind in the trees, all ebbing and flowing in a way that went straight into your bones.  It sounded ancient too, really ancient.  As the gong was hit, it started twisting which wafted the sound back and forth.  The percussionist used different beaters, and each one laid another sound onto the building patterns.  It became quite an intense, emotional experience.

I came out feeling strangely spiritually healed, which was the last thing I was expecting from a gardening show.

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