Baker Creek Seed Festival

We were very hot in our costumes

Wearing this was fun for the first hour or so

Moses is laughing because Josiah is actually borrowing his real clothes to use as an old-fashioned costume

How's that for an awkward pose?

  Hannah looks very different than most people at the fair

 

Part of the historic town. Hannah fits right in.

I wanted to write about this event in my life a long time ago, right after it happened, but life was too busy. Now that I'm in Thailand, sick with Pink-eye, I have lots of time to lay around and be bored.
Now I can write about a pleasant little serendipity I shared with Hannah, Moses and Josiah.

It was a few weeks into April when Josiah called me into his office, "I have something to talk to you about."

I was immediately interested. Josiah has seen me just about at my worst, and he's been my friend since I first came to Arkansas, so he knows me pretty well. I know he cares about me, so I'm interested in whatever it is he wants to tell me about.

He leans back in his chair, puts his arms behind his head, and smiles. I'm excited, because he looks pretty confident that I'm going to like whatever is it he's going to say.
"Have you ever heard of the Baker Creek Seed Festival?"

Yes, my mom went there last year and raved all about it. I wasn't particularly interested in gardening, but I love old-fashioned, natural, country stuff, so I was sort of interested when she told me about it.

"Well, would you be interested in going this year? A couple who live there have asked the school to send some students to have a booth and sell magabooks there."

Wow! This is better than I thought. Of course I'll go! And when I hear who's coming too, I'm even more excited. Moses and Josiah are some of the funniest, down-to-earth people I know, and Hannah is a great, cheerful girl. We are going to have a lot of fun. 

Josiah doesn't realize that I have a lot of homework projects to finish before the school year ends in a month, but I don't tell him. I know I'll get it all done.

And so, a few weeks later, in early May, we load up the Chevy Express and head to Missouri. I had been in Little Rock that morning, so the three of them picked me up there, and we spent the next five or six hours on the road, headed North. Along the way, Josiah gave us leadership training, seeing as we would all probably be canvassing leaders eventually. I wish I could say I remembered most of the training, but I was so tired and distracted that I missed a lot of it.
When we got there, Friday afternoon, I was totally enchanted. The Missouri countryside reminded me of the area where my best friend's family lives in Kentucky, where I also semi-grew up. The rolling hills surrounding a spring green valley welcomed us as we drove down the gravel road towards a big white farmhouse. The pasture across from the house was dotted with scattered black cows, and the familiar smell of livestock filled the air as we pulled up to the house, opened the doors of the van, and hopped out.

The older couple who lived in the farmhouse were just as sweet as the place and they made us feel like their grandchildren, right away. That evening, we set up tents on the lawn in front of the house, and eat our sack lunches outside the van.

The man and his wife were in their early 80's, I think, and he couldn't hear very well, but they were both self-sufficient. Hannah and I helped her cook, but she was quite able to do everything herself. They were both Adventists, but were dissatisfied with the local church, so the next morning we had church in their son-in-law's home across the valley. We rode in the back of their giant diesel truck across the valley, through a gate, and down the gravel road to an awesome cedar house huddled on the side of a hill. When we got there, it seemed to me as if we had reached heaven. There were cute little gardens in the yard, a pen with sheep, and several sheds and barns with antique cars and tools below the house. The house itself was a log cabin, with a high front porch. The space under the porch was filled with perfectly-fitting pieces of firewood. We climbed the hill to the steps up to the porch, avoided a long black snake, and tried to fend off an overly cautious Jack Russell terrier. The house inside was lined with cedar boards (which smell amazing, by the way), had a wood floor, and a big open room with a loft above. Several deer heads, along with a giant Moose head and an enormous Elk head hung on the walls. Squirrel, rabbit, and wildcat pelts draped over a rough-hewn ladder and the back of the couches.
I absolutely loved that house. Not that I would like to have parts of mounted animals on my wall, but the rustic, homey atmosphere was amazing. The family who owned the house were all peaceful, thoughtful folks who were familiar with nature and happy to share their place with others. I can't even describe the peace and happiness that I felt there.

We had home church there, and I had a hard time staying awake, everything was so quiet and serene. We talked about creation and the gifts God had given of life, health, the Sabbath, marriage, and other things. Everything we talked about was practical and down-to-earth; I was happy to think of religion in a simpler way than I was used to.

I was just plain happy there.

Josiah, Hannah, Moses and I wanted to go exploring in the woods after lunch, so we struck out on what used to be a trail. Eventually the trail ran out, so I followed an old waterway down the hollar until it opened into a field near the old farmhouse where we stayed. We crossed the creek, found a little frog and played with it for a while, found an old hunting blind, climbed up in it and took pictures, then came down and waded through the tall grass. I've never been afraid of tall grass, but I knew that it was possible to get a lot of ticks, so I walked fast. The two guys ended up with all the baby ticks, while Hannah and I made it through without a single bug.
Moses and Josiah spent the next little while scraping tiny ticks off their jeans. Hannah and I shrugged and went down to the creek. After we crossed back over, we ran through a huge field back to the road and then rested in our tents for the rest of the afternoon. It was really hot and humid for the beginning of May.

That night we stayed up late helping to set up for the fair the next day. Baker Creek is a farm owned by the Gettle family, who grow organic, heirloom seeds. On the spacious property are several large pastures, and a small replica of an old-fashioned town, complete with ponies, a donkey, sheep, geese, and even peacocks. When the fair started, vendors would come from all across the States to sell their home-made products in booths on the lawns around the old town. We helped stock the old-fashioned bakery with bread and pastries, then went to bed exhausted. The next morning, we were up early, setting up our booth before the main rush of people began. All that morning, while we dressed in old-fashioned costumes, there had been a steady stream of vehicles full of people and their wares entering the grounds. Most of the people parked out in an empty cow pasture after they had unloaded their booths and things to be set up near the town. We were told that all the vendors were required to wear costumes, so we borrowed some, but later we saw that many of the vendors wore normal clothes. It didn't matter; we had fun wearing our clothes. Although I will say that I'm glad girls down have to wear petticoats anymore; they are hot and really heavy. No wonder Ellen White said they were a bad idea. It's also hard to keep your skirt clean when it drags the ground all around.

Anyway, we set up our booth in the allotted space, which was in front of one of the main entrances. As the morning grew later, a huge crowd of people had gathered in front of the gates, and when the vendors were ready, the gates were opened to let the people pour in. In the first few hours, all four of us were busy at our booth, talking to people, and selling books. Moses stationed himself outside the booth, and called attention to a free drawing we had for the full set of the blue Bible Story books. When people came and signed up, the rest of us started talking to them about the magabooks we had displayed on a table.

Our booth from the inside

Our booth from the outside

The booths next to us were run by an Amish family, who kept peering over at us, curiously. Moses went over to talk to them, eventually, because he knew they were wondering if he was Amish too.
I laughed to myself, because if they knew what I normally would have been wearing, they would have had no questions if I were Amish or not. It was kind of fun being a poser for a couple of days.
Our books were selling well, and after a while Hannah and I left the guys at the booth to go exploring. We walked up through the booths into the old town square, and nearly everyone stared at us. 
After looking at booths with homemade brooms, llama-hair yarn, plant seedlings, and indian flutes, we came back to ours and let the guys go exploring. Neither of them really wanted to leave us in charge of the booth, so we all stayed there until Beth, Josiah's fiancé, showed up to surprise him.
Then they took off, and we watched Moses get into interesting debates with ex-Adventists who thought we needed to be evangelized and called "out of Babylon." Moses handled the arguments with a meek spirit and we were all impressed by his calm, non-confrontational manner. He had changed a lot since I first knew him.

This went on all day until six-o-clock, when the booths were closed and we went home to supper.
The next day, we were in the booth again all day. Sometime in the early afternoon, one of the ladies who lived at Baker Creek approached me and said, "I heard you brought your violin. Would you be willing to come up to the bakery and play for the line of people waiting there?"

I thought for a moment. It was really hot and now kind of boring in the booth, but I really had a fear of playing in front of people.
Hot, or shy?
Hot and the lady won, in the end, and I went to fetch my violin.

As I wound my way through the booths, carrying my violin case, and holding my skirts up so I wouldn't trip, people turned to look at me curiously. I dropped my eyes and kept walking, hoping they wouldn't follow me or ask me what I was doing.
There was a country music competition in the old town, so I hoped nobody thought I was going there to compete. Hannah and I had stopped there earlier in time to see a family perform some bluegrass. The oldest boy, who was 15, was a national champion fiddler and banjo player. I was impressed and totally intimidated by him at the same time. If I weren't also a violinist, I wouldn't have felt intimidated, but there's always the temptation to compare yourself with others who have your same skill set.

I started playing violin when I was six or seven, and quickly become the top student with my first and second teachers. I was used to being the best. Although I hated to practice, my mom made sure I practiced for an hour a day, saying, "You'll thank me later!"
Thanks, Mom!
Eventually I had progressed to taking lessons from the Concertmaster of the Lexington Philharmonic, a professional orchestra based at the University of Kentucky. Daniel Mason was a violinist who had traveled around the world giving performances and teaching lessons. He was now the Director of Music at the University of Kentucky. I was blessed to take lessons from him. However, when I got in the pool of his students, I realized that I was out of my league. I was no longer the best student. I played in the youth orchestra for a few years, and had a blast, but realized that I didn't like the competitive attitude amongst the violinists. Of course, if I had been better than all of them, I wouldn't have minded the competition. : )
As it was, I decided to branch off from classical music into Celtic fiddle, Bluegrass, and Klezmer music. Anything that was different from the norm. My mom didn't appreciate all my hard-work in the classical realm going to waste, so I had to practice fiddle music in secret, while still progressing in my classical pieces.

Eventually I reached the point where I would either need to start putting serious effort into becoming a performance artist, or let violin go and focus on other things. I went away to school for my senior year, and took up viola instead, so violin got put on the back-burner.
I still always wanted to learn to fiddle, though.

When I got up to the bakery and squeezed through the crowd of people waiting outside and inside the small waiting area, my heart pounded with anticipation. I sure hoped these people didn't expect anything really great from me. I climbed the cedar stairs up into the loft area, looking down over the front waiting room. The loft was a sewing area where ladies were making costumes and quilts, so I found a corner behind some stacked fabric to put my case, and went back to the railing where people below could see and hear me play. An older man sat down beside me to listen and I tried to stay calm as my mind spun. I couldn't play fiddle music; I was only self-taught. I couldn't play classical music here, that would be too showy. So I started playing hymns and folk songs softly. The man beside me asked, "Hay, kin ye play the Orange Blossom Special? What about Turkey in the Straw?"
I laughed and lapsed into a Southern drawl, "Nah, Ah was trained classically. Ah don't know any fiddle tunes by heart."
"Oh, then kin ye play somethin classical?"

...so I played him the theme from Legénde by Wieniawski, the theme from the Thai Meditation, and a few other nice ones. As I finished playing the cadenza from the second movement of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto in D Major, a man below started clapping.
"Brava! Brava!" he called up, "Schindler's List, right?"
But he walked out the door before I could correct him.
I turned to the man beside me, "That was Tchaikovsky. This is the theme from Schindler's List."
So I played it for him. I had never seen the movie, but I had heard the music once or twice, and remembered it.

Eventually, my time was up, and I packed my violin away in relief. Performing is always hard for me because I'm such an extreme self-critic, but this time I had actually kind of enjoyed myself. It was a small step in the right direction.

The afternoon back at the booth was spent selling a few more books, and watching Moses wade through another argument with some really off-track people who were trying to push their religion on him.
Their son, who appeared to be mentally impaired, wandered behind the booth to where Beth and I sat, and we smiled at him. My best friend's older sister has Down's Syndrome, so I grew up with a mentally impaired person and absolutely love them. The little boy fiddled with our things and grunted at us, until his parents yelled at him to get away. I felt sorry for him and wondered how people like his parents would ever convert someone to their religion.

After a long day, we took down the booth and decided to drive home that evening instead of spending the night and leaving early the next day. The old folks were sad we were leaving early, but were also very happy that we had come.

 

We had only ended up staying there for three days or so, but we were sad to leave, too. I had already gotten attached to their ancient, orange, crippled cat. I had seen that he couldn't walk very well, and was too stiff to be picked up very easily, so I sat down by him and talked to him as he lounged on the concrete outside the front door. He got up stiffly, crawled up into my lap and buried his head in my shirt. I was smitten, even though he always left a lot of white hair on my clothes. The old lady sympathized and gave me Duck tape to help get the hair off. I think she understood my obsession with animals. 

The old lady herself and her husband were really cute. He couldn't hear anyone very well, except for her. She never had to shout at him. One evening, he waddled into the kitchen while she was making grilled cheese sandwiches, put his arm around her, and whispered into her ear, "I love you."

She turned to him and replied, "I love you too." 

His whisper dropped a little, "Now don't tell anybody..."

She laughed softly, "I think they already know."

"What? How do you know that?"

"Just ask them; they'll tell you." she smirked.

Hannah and I grinned at each other. Real love is a super rare thing, and when you see it, it warms your heart. Those two old people were still in love with each other, after years of marriage and struggling through life together. I think that's what stuck in my mind from the whole experience as we drove down the road into the deepening twilight towards home. Over the past few days, I had seen a lot of people who lived a simple lifestyle. Some raved about their diet and their lives, others looked unhappy. What I decided from observing all the people was this: simple lifestyle + true love for God and others = heaven-on-earth blessings for everyone.

That's what I seek to attain in my own life.