Amber Fox, Part 2
Oct. 16th, 2003 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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danthered's photo gallery from the weekend, beautiful and bizarre.
Sunday
After returning to the farm from breakfast, the day is mostly unstructured. I have abstained from coffee today to ease my tender stomach, but crave a hot drink. Shimmer makes me a cup of ginger tea, mincing a thumb-sized piece of fresh root and simmering it for 10 minutes in a cup of water. It is delicious. I try to sit in the indoor porch, but the sun is too hot there. I move onto the outdoor porch, strip and sit in the sun, thinking how wonderful it is to enjoy a mild wind on my bare skin in mid October. Some people wander taking photographs or simply communing with the land. Others undertake work projects. Claude has spent most of the weekend shingling the wall of the Lounge, one of several bunkhouses on the property. Chip, Geneva and others have excavated the entire flower bed across the front of the Erection, rooting out weeds, and are now busy replanting peonies, daylilies and irises. These will be interspersed with some new daffodil bulbs, which the deer won't eat. Everyone is expected to participate in work projects, that's part of the philosophy behind Amber Fox. As a newcomer I enjoy special leniency, however I help by washing dishes. There is no electricity on the farm, but despite that it boasts the conveniences of a full kitchen, outdoor showers, running hot water and a sauna. Wood has to be loaded into an indoor stove for the hot water, and water for the showers and sauna has to be pumped from the well using a generator.
The sky clouds over suddenly and the breeze cools. I move back into the Erection. I write in my journal. The weekend has gone by so fast and full I have trouble remembering everything. I'm confused. I'm happy. I'm relaxed. Writing coherently in the Erection is virtually impossible, I am so distracted by conversations, ranging from frivolous to fanciful, bitchy to bizarre. Most amusing are Pinkie's surreal monologues, delivered in bewildering earnestness, on topics ranging from his scheme for repackaging and marketing Tide as a shampoo, to how we should dignify the poor by giving them menial labour. Conversations at Amber Fox are anything but politically correct, and often make reference to aliens. A cold rain falls for half an hour. The sound is amplified by the Erection's tin roof.
Late afternoon. Ernie has arrived with the used Trans Am he recently bought, a car for which he has a fetish. Daniel and Walter are photographing him working under the hood (See Daniel's gallery). Later Ernie asks me what my fetish is, and I am unaccountably tongue-tied. For many people it is customary to dress for dinner, and Ernie has come prepared with a carload of outfits. He likes giving people things to wear. He loans me a pair of chaps and black Western boots. I go back to the tent to find my jeans and dress for dinner, but discover a codpiece in the bottom of my bag (oh, where did that come from?), and decide to wear that under the chaps instead.
Dinner. Back at the Erection, my bare ass wins admiration from most of the company, and subtle passes from a couple men. But my glory is presently obscured by the arrival of Chip and Geneva in elaborate outfits. Chip is wearing some sort of ceremonial costume. To my eyes Geneva, in a busty pullover and dangling, gaudy beads, looks like Edwina Monsoon. The meal itself is memorable and delicious. There are 13 at the table. Bill has made a spicy squash soup. I manage a small taste with impunity. The main course is Ernie's shepherd's pie: the bottom consisting of grated tofu nicely seasoned, covered with a layer of mushrooms and topped with potatoes. Pototoes permeate the meal delightfully. We have mashed potatoes, potatoes with mustard seed, rutabaga, and potatoes mixed with rutabaga. Shimmer has contributed sautéed vegetables and tofu. Amber Fox is strictly vegetarian, but in the broadest sense: eggs and dairy are allowed. I have never had such meatless feasts as these, and am pleasantly surprised by the cooks' inventiveness. The food is good enough I think I could become a vegetarian if I weren't so fond of certain meats. The wine with dinner is one of my favourites, Pelee Island Merlot.
After dinner. We proceed in pomp, chanting "We all come from the mother ship," to a far field, for the most important ritual of the weekend. We are burning an old chair. The purpose of this activity is explained differently depending on who you ask.
"We are sacrificing an icon of tasteless suburban mediocrity."
"It must return to the home planet."
"We like burning furniture."
Claude pours on some kerosene to get things going. Coffee whitener gets passed around so we can each take turns throwing magic sparkles into the fire. We marvel at the green flames rising from an old, smutty magazine.
Dessert. Back at the Erection, Chip has made an Alien Cake (You have to see it). It is chocolate with cream cheese icing. It is accompanied by a more traditional and equally delicious squash pie. After dinner we converse around the table. The night has turned too chilly for us to relish another campfire. In social settings of this scale I have difficulty participating in conversations. I can hardly concentrate, and get left behind or daydreaming. The onset of a carbohydrate coma doesn't help. I'm the quietest person in this party. I am aware of sexual opportunities, but red wine and fresh air have made me too sleepy to pursue them. Later on I rest my head on Shimmer's shoulder and start to dose, but soon pull myself to my feet and shamble to the tent, stopping one more time to marvel at moonlight on the field.
Monday
It has been a frosty night and most of the people in tents slept poorly. I managed to keep warm, but slept poorly anyway. Many of us are grumpy. I wander some more, taking in as much of the beauty of this place as I can. It reminds me of places I have loved, particularly Elmbrae, the house where I lived in the rolling countryside outside Guelph during the last three years of my marriage. Bill takes me to see the tiny, peculiar, three-storied house built in the '70s by Chip's partner Ken. The bottom floor has been open to all as a safe place to escape from the company if necessary. I make a mental note for the future: this would be a better place for journaling than in the common space of the Erection. Wandering back, I find a small group debating one of Pinkie's theories in the sunporch. Right beside them, Daniel is sound asleep and quietly snoring in the hammock.
Noon. I spend my last hour at Amber Fox alone with Shimmer. We find a quiet glade and sit. I ask him about loving someone at a distance. Of course, I am only thinking about the distance between Guelph and Toronto, which is miniscule compared to the distance he must travel. We hold one another for a while. We will not enjoy this quality of warm air and sunlight again in 2003.
When we return to the Erection, Geneva and Walter are ready to leave. Bill will return to Toronto with Daniel a little later. We are the first to depart, so I say goodbye to everyone at once. On the return journey, the fall colours seem even brighter than on Friday, if possible. Geneva and Walter tell me more about the history of Amber Fox and its philosophy. Walter and I compare stories of our coming out. We drop Walter off first, and then me, in front of Bill and Danny's house. I am a little sad to see my last traveling companion pull away.
I let myself in with my luggage to hear Danny's greeting and see his handsome face through the kitchen door. He has prepared a turkey dinner for our return. Lemon slices flavour the skin wonderfully. Admittedly I'm glad we'll have a couple hours to eat alone before Bill and Daniel get back. His gentle presence is the perfect balm at the end of a beautiful but unusual and exhausting weekend.
danthered's photo gallery from the weekend, beautiful and bizarre.Sunday
After returning to the farm from breakfast, the day is mostly unstructured. I have abstained from coffee today to ease my tender stomach, but crave a hot drink. Shimmer makes me a cup of ginger tea, mincing a thumb-sized piece of fresh root and simmering it for 10 minutes in a cup of water. It is delicious. I try to sit in the indoor porch, but the sun is too hot there. I move onto the outdoor porch, strip and sit in the sun, thinking how wonderful it is to enjoy a mild wind on my bare skin in mid October. Some people wander taking photographs or simply communing with the land. Others undertake work projects. Claude has spent most of the weekend shingling the wall of the Lounge, one of several bunkhouses on the property. Chip, Geneva and others have excavated the entire flower bed across the front of the Erection, rooting out weeds, and are now busy replanting peonies, daylilies and irises. These will be interspersed with some new daffodil bulbs, which the deer won't eat. Everyone is expected to participate in work projects, that's part of the philosophy behind Amber Fox. As a newcomer I enjoy special leniency, however I help by washing dishes. There is no electricity on the farm, but despite that it boasts the conveniences of a full kitchen, outdoor showers, running hot water and a sauna. Wood has to be loaded into an indoor stove for the hot water, and water for the showers and sauna has to be pumped from the well using a generator.
The sky clouds over suddenly and the breeze cools. I move back into the Erection. I write in my journal. The weekend has gone by so fast and full I have trouble remembering everything. I'm confused. I'm happy. I'm relaxed. Writing coherently in the Erection is virtually impossible, I am so distracted by conversations, ranging from frivolous to fanciful, bitchy to bizarre. Most amusing are Pinkie's surreal monologues, delivered in bewildering earnestness, on topics ranging from his scheme for repackaging and marketing Tide as a shampoo, to how we should dignify the poor by giving them menial labour. Conversations at Amber Fox are anything but politically correct, and often make reference to aliens. A cold rain falls for half an hour. The sound is amplified by the Erection's tin roof.
Late afternoon. Ernie has arrived with the used Trans Am he recently bought, a car for which he has a fetish. Daniel and Walter are photographing him working under the hood (See Daniel's gallery). Later Ernie asks me what my fetish is, and I am unaccountably tongue-tied. For many people it is customary to dress for dinner, and Ernie has come prepared with a carload of outfits. He likes giving people things to wear. He loans me a pair of chaps and black Western boots. I go back to the tent to find my jeans and dress for dinner, but discover a codpiece in the bottom of my bag (oh, where did that come from?), and decide to wear that under the chaps instead.
Dinner. Back at the Erection, my bare ass wins admiration from most of the company, and subtle passes from a couple men. But my glory is presently obscured by the arrival of Chip and Geneva in elaborate outfits. Chip is wearing some sort of ceremonial costume. To my eyes Geneva, in a busty pullover and dangling, gaudy beads, looks like Edwina Monsoon. The meal itself is memorable and delicious. There are 13 at the table. Bill has made a spicy squash soup. I manage a small taste with impunity. The main course is Ernie's shepherd's pie: the bottom consisting of grated tofu nicely seasoned, covered with a layer of mushrooms and topped with potatoes. Pototoes permeate the meal delightfully. We have mashed potatoes, potatoes with mustard seed, rutabaga, and potatoes mixed with rutabaga. Shimmer has contributed sautéed vegetables and tofu. Amber Fox is strictly vegetarian, but in the broadest sense: eggs and dairy are allowed. I have never had such meatless feasts as these, and am pleasantly surprised by the cooks' inventiveness. The food is good enough I think I could become a vegetarian if I weren't so fond of certain meats. The wine with dinner is one of my favourites, Pelee Island Merlot.
After dinner. We proceed in pomp, chanting "We all come from the mother ship," to a far field, for the most important ritual of the weekend. We are burning an old chair. The purpose of this activity is explained differently depending on who you ask.
"We are sacrificing an icon of tasteless suburban mediocrity."
"It must return to the home planet."
"We like burning furniture."
Claude pours on some kerosene to get things going. Coffee whitener gets passed around so we can each take turns throwing magic sparkles into the fire. We marvel at the green flames rising from an old, smutty magazine.
Dessert. Back at the Erection, Chip has made an Alien Cake (You have to see it). It is chocolate with cream cheese icing. It is accompanied by a more traditional and equally delicious squash pie. After dinner we converse around the table. The night has turned too chilly for us to relish another campfire. In social settings of this scale I have difficulty participating in conversations. I can hardly concentrate, and get left behind or daydreaming. The onset of a carbohydrate coma doesn't help. I'm the quietest person in this party. I am aware of sexual opportunities, but red wine and fresh air have made me too sleepy to pursue them. Later on I rest my head on Shimmer's shoulder and start to dose, but soon pull myself to my feet and shamble to the tent, stopping one more time to marvel at moonlight on the field.
Monday
It has been a frosty night and most of the people in tents slept poorly. I managed to keep warm, but slept poorly anyway. Many of us are grumpy. I wander some more, taking in as much of the beauty of this place as I can. It reminds me of places I have loved, particularly Elmbrae, the house where I lived in the rolling countryside outside Guelph during the last three years of my marriage. Bill takes me to see the tiny, peculiar, three-storied house built in the '70s by Chip's partner Ken. The bottom floor has been open to all as a safe place to escape from the company if necessary. I make a mental note for the future: this would be a better place for journaling than in the common space of the Erection. Wandering back, I find a small group debating one of Pinkie's theories in the sunporch. Right beside them, Daniel is sound asleep and quietly snoring in the hammock.
Noon. I spend my last hour at Amber Fox alone with Shimmer. We find a quiet glade and sit. I ask him about loving someone at a distance. Of course, I am only thinking about the distance between Guelph and Toronto, which is miniscule compared to the distance he must travel. We hold one another for a while. We will not enjoy this quality of warm air and sunlight again in 2003.
When we return to the Erection, Geneva and Walter are ready to leave. Bill will return to Toronto with Daniel a little later. We are the first to depart, so I say goodbye to everyone at once. On the return journey, the fall colours seem even brighter than on Friday, if possible. Geneva and Walter tell me more about the history of Amber Fox and its philosophy. Walter and I compare stories of our coming out. We drop Walter off first, and then me, in front of Bill and Danny's house. I am a little sad to see my last traveling companion pull away.
I let myself in with my luggage to hear Danny's greeting and see his handsome face through the kitchen door. He has prepared a turkey dinner for our return. Lemon slices flavour the skin wonderfully. Admittedly I'm glad we'll have a couple hours to eat alone before Bill and Daniel get back. His gentle presence is the perfect balm at the end of a beautiful but unusual and exhausting weekend.
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Poignantly evanescent
Date: 2003-10-17 05:13 pm (UTC)Hard to believe that it was already a week ago that we were all sitting down to that first meal in the Erection.
I hope you have a nourishing, loving weekend with Danny.
hugs, Shimmer
Re: Poignantly evanescent
Date: 2003-10-18 06:03 pm (UTC)