Burn Barrels and Creativity

Willow Manor was quite rural when I arrived the summer of 1988. From the kitchen window I could see an open field across the road. Dogs wandered freely, children dug holes in the yard, dandelions were good; it was okay to burn yard waste. This week, our neighbor burned a bit of brush in the gully. Someone actually called 911; firetrucks, guys in hazmat gear, the whole shebang over a few burning leaves.

I remember every house in the village of Burlington, Indiana having a rusty burn barrel out back. Everyone burned trash without worrying about toxins being released. Grandma's barrel rested on concrete blocks, a square opening cut in the lower half, so ashes could be shoveled out, and used in the garden. My uncle and I (uncles close enough in age to be brothers) would play war, watch the burning post-bomb trash. No worries; we knew the dangers of fire, how to safely light a match. Sometimes we made elaborate scenes in the cooled ash; pot metal army figures carefully placed around leftover bits of glass and tin.

Children's freedoms have declined since I was a girl. Maybe the world is a more dangerous place, but children seem overprotected. I wonder about the long-term outcome, as far as creativity is concerned. How will this affect the arts on all levels? Nothing compares with wild exploration, digging a hole, discovering creatures in the clouds, riding a bicycle without a helmet, feeling the exhilaration of wind in your hair.


* Burn Barrel by Matthew Daub

The morning after ...

Let us have wine and women,

myrth and laughter,

Sermons and soda water

the day after.

Lord Byron, from Don Juan

Full English in bed this morning after a long, long sleep. Was the exotic tango and dark stroll among the Willow Manor trees a dream? Wadsworth has a buffet set up downstairs with lots of yummy breakfast stuff. I asked him to make the coffee espresso strength, and have plenty of "hair of the dog" available.

Thank you for making the Sixth Annual Willow Manor Ball so much  fun! Everyone turned out in their most sublime, with bells on, and dancing feet. There were ample woolly socks for all, since the evening turned quite chilly. After I finish this coffee, I'll tiptoe downstairs to survey the damage; see who's sleeping where.

Some may think the Willow Manor Ball is just a lot of silly nonsense.  I happen to believe the fine line between fantasy and reality is the space where artists live. We should not apologize for this virtual world, but celebrate it, embrace its creativity. Thank you for dancing that beautiful dance on the border between fantasy and reality with me, dear friends. It was grand. 

The winners of the door prizes are: 

Dinosaur Hand and Rene

(please give me your email addresses for your gift certificates to Amazon.com)