Wednesday Hose Down at Little Middle Folk School

It was a strange feeling, going back to Little/Middle again after almost three years. Strange, watching those innocent adventurers gallavanting about the Festival Barn, remembering what it was like to dance in their shoes. And stranger still, walking around campus, pen and camera close at hand, now that I was the experienced veteran walking around freely taking pictures and notes like a wanna-be Seymour Hersh. Strange, but oddly comforting, I’d even venture to say sentimental, but in the warm and fuzzy way that makes you want to coo as if to a newborn.

The second I stepped into the Festival Barn that first morning, I was overcome with long lost memories that were nothing if not pleasant. I remembered feeling so grown up as I walked on my own to my classes that were unique to my interests alone. I remembered feeling invincible as I annihilated my barriers of timidity and made friends that came from places too far for my young mind to even begin to comprehend the distance. I remembered feeling limitless as I opened my mind to new things that until that moment had never flitted across my mind commanding no more attention than a simple grain of pollen drifting across the sky. All these things that I recalled of myself, I then saw in the eyes of each child darting around the makeshift flashback zone where I stood. It gave me solace to see that even though I had grown out of the delicate age of enchantment and wonder, the tradition would be carried on in the hearts of others.

Outside the sweet aromas of mint and other herbs waft in the air. The harmonious melodies of birds float in on the breeze, and the sun consumes everything in its warmth. As often as we locals take this place for granted, sometimes one has to stop and admit how truly serene it is here. Now I see why people from all over come here.

written by Taylor Bello, Summer Intern from Murphy High School