Wasn’t that a song some time back? “Up, up and away in my beautiful, my beautiful balloon”…or something like that? Goes on to say, “Would you like to ride in my beautiful, my beautiful balloon?” Catchy tune. Google says that The 5th Dimension and Dionne Warwick got the most play with it. Anyway…
Saturday last I was engaged in my usual early week-end walk out on Garfield Drive, coming around the final turn when I looked up to the north and actually saw a balloon floating along up there just as the sun was about to come up. Nothing special, as far as color goes, not like the ones they get for the Balloon Affair down in Ravenna or the really big time out West in Albuquerque, NM, where it’s all about color and design. However, the sun was doing a fantastic job of coloring everything and it was just really cool to watch the lighter-than-air craft drifting toward the sunrise. Must have been moving pretty fast too; I did not get to see it for very long and when I got to the other side of the trees at the end of the road, it was out of sight.
Looking directly into the sun was not an option so I just finished my tour and went home. Then all the rest of the day, whenever I asked, everyone thought that I was making a rather ridiculous deal about an escapee from a birthday party or some such celebration. Either that, or I was walking off a celebration of some kind from the night before. Nope. ‘Fraid not. I’m wondering if it came from the Cleveland Parachute Club up on Grove Road. I even looked for parachutes up there at the same time but saw none at all…nor for the rest of the day, for that matter, even though it was a lovely day to be out and up there.
As it was at the “Art on the Hill” event in Mantua. Gorgeous weather and lots of people taking advantage of it. More wine, more vendors, more crowds, more music. Interesting event. I was taken with the number of artisans (Ron Gill, for instance) working in wood or photography. Lots of people found time during the “recent unpleasantness”–as proper Southern ladies sometimes referred to the Civil War–to get really into some hobbies and crafts which they hadn’t had time to spend before. There were some quite lovely pieces there. Had I more money and more house, I’d have made off with lots more.
Kudos to the DMRC for putting it all together. Wonder how the photo contest turned out. There were some great entries in every category. Who can resist pix of puppies and kittens…or sunsets, or boats or babies, for that matter? Terrific display. Props too to the folks who have renovated the older buildings along Prospect where they have planted new businesses.
Garrettsville has been shut out of such developments so far, because the FIRE took a great share of the oldest, most “personalitied” buildings right off the map, and off Main Street. Need to come up with a new “hook” for attracting the trade. Perhaps the two villages should do some collaboration on exploiting the Headwaters Trail which might attract the outdoor crowd–walkers/hikers/bicyclers alike. Food and drink and merchants at either end might be a draw for casual exercisers. Something might be developed to the advantage of both towns. Then, of course, the Monsoon Season arrived on Sunday. Timing was great. Had it arrived a day sooner, all of the art and refreshment might have been washed right into the Cuyahoga and headed off for Akron and Cleveland, where they would not have been appreciated.
We have got through at least one set of “Dog Days” according to the OFA–there will be more. Francophiles can have celebrated Bastille Day on the 14th; on the 15th we can observe St. Swithin’s Day. Watch out for that one : “St Swithin’s Day, if it doth rain, Full forty days it shall remain. St. Swithin’s Day, if it be fair, for forty days ‘twill rain nae mair.” He was buried in the cathedral at Winchester–against his wishes. When his remains were moved from outside, where he wanted them so people could walk over them and rain could fall on them, miracles took place–also torrential rains. Not much is actually known about St. Swithin, but one of the more interesting stories was that an old lady’s hens’ eggs had been broken by workmen building a church and when St Swithin heard of her misfortune, he took up the eggs and made them whole. Handy dude to have around. We do not need forty days of rain or drought, for pity’s sake. But Tropical Storm Elsa may be intruding on his territory at this point.
Think on this : “Cornscateous air is everywhere.”
