June: recap part III
It is a point less of annoyance and more of panicked confusion that I do not have more photos of Colpy. I know I took them, and I know I downloaded them. However, I cannot find them. Meticulous panoramas, candids of hosts and guests, musical moments, culinary moments, Nom in a funny shirt, Allison loving it all, all loving Allison, all nowhere to be found.
I will keep searching. But in the meantime, know that the day after the wedding, we drove many miles into the Aberdonian countryside, to the Massie farm, and had one of the most genuinely warm, welcoming, comforting, jovial afternoons I've ever experienced.
Ancient cultures used to prize hospitality to travelers. It was a golden standard, how you welcomed and treated those who found their way to your door. I have no doubt that the best hosts of those cultures could have taken notes from the Massies. You want to stay, when they make you at home. You leave reluctantly, missing them already.
That night, our last in Aberdeen, Caz and Tom met the Irish clan at the Lampy, their local tunes pub. Tom's father is a musician, just like Tom, and it was going to be a sort of post-wedding ritual to have a jam session with the usual suspects and the new ones.
I scrawled the final count on a coaster: 5 guitars, 4 fiddles, 2 boxes, a mandolin, and an upright bass. No flutes or bodhrans, but no one really missed them either.
It became rapidly apparent that the pace set by the older Irish players was going to cause Caz' head to implode from boredom. Exhibit A:
So, after her second conspicuous smoke break with Dan and myself, extracting ourselves from the crush of players and listeners with many "pardon me"s and much care, she egged Tom into launching a set while his father was taking a drink, so that they could determine the pace themselves and let off their steam.
He never did catch up.
Leaving ached, as leaving always does. But it was different. I had Allison with me. I had all of my heart with me. And Daniel, when we left, had something I hadn't seen in him before: a spark, and some resolve. Our trip - the driving, the urban exploring, the socializing and the craic - reminded him that there is, in fact, life outside of Inverie, and he can be part of it.
And so this leaving was, in fact, the best yet.
I got an email from him a few days ago. He is in love, and they are leaving the village. He's bought a camper, and will soon be launching into the lifestyle of an itinerant whistlemaker. Sparks do, it seems, catch.
Allison and I ended up with an entire center row to ourselves. We stretched out, tangled our legs, got tea and read books and napped, as we crossed the ocean for home.
It was a good June.
