We became regular Mariposa Folk Festival people nine summers ago, with the 50th anniversary celebrations. We sat with thousands of others, listening to Gordon Lightfoot, Murray McLaughlin, and Ian and Sylvia.
Our one day adventure quickly led to attending the whole weekend. I now book Monday’s off for rest and reflection
We met a lot of great people this year, including a wonderful man who has grooved to the tunes of Mariposa, every year since it’s inception 59 years ago, back when he was a self described 19 year old, long haired beatnik that the city of Orillia didn’t know how to cope with. We shared a tree with a three generation family whose predecessor was one of the founding members of the festival.
For some reason, this was an emotional weekend for me this year. As people know, I am not a crier. Crying is just something that I don’t know how to do, but this weekend, at least a couple of times each day, I felt tears slipping down the sides of my face. Perhaps it was the running into old friends and making new friends. Or maybe it was the music, the art and the sunshine. Or it might have been that I could go from sitting on the grass to standing up without falling over. Whatever the reason, they were happy tears and I was equally happy to feel them.
Looking forward to next summer to celebrate 60 years of Mariposa!
‘When there is no light, be the light, and there will be light’ the Ennis Sisters
Groovy Tales of a Well Adult 
Deep appreciation has its own path…
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