I’m still recovering from yesterday (I woke at 5am to catch the train to Portland, and was up til sometime after 1am watching bands in the barn). So, when Crooked Still took the main stage this afternoon, it seemed like a perfect, relaxing, lulling moment to lie down on the dried grass and fall asleep. I’m over the fact that horse shit is everywhere; this is a farm, after all, and I already dropped my flip-flopped foot into a heaping pile last night on one of several trips back and forth between stages. When I woke from my brief nap this afternoon, it was in response to the syncopated banjo-rocking and tapping from the Hackensaw Boys’ “charismo”—a washboard-type contraption fashioned mostly from tin cans and other metal items. Surrounding me were dozens of bouncing, twirling, bopping people. With half the crowd energized on their feet, it was impossible to squint through and catch a glimpse of the band, so I had to get up and dance along. Like I said yesterday, festivals are about choices…(read more)