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Has anyone else been to a Corn Festival? FWIW, I can't stand corn on the cob - it the teeth thing for me. Give me corn from a can anyday!
just what should I expect?
er... corn?
Up here, the Iroquois federation still reunite many tribes in a big pow wow they call a potlash. Every tribe brings a gift to the gods and demonstrates their own culture in dances, songs or religious rites. Corn was an important part of their diet, but it was not the main attraction. It isn't a corn festival from their view.
For white mans from my Québécois culture, the corn festival is a local community event happening in the fall. Part of the event involves peeling the corn. This is why we call it "une épluchette de blé d'inde" (rougly a corn peeling party). A long time ago, we use to hide 2 wild corn cobs (red grains) in two piles of corn cobs. One pile was for single mens and the other for single womens. At the signal, singles where racing to peel the cobs in order to find the wild one. The winner from each gender, could pick the single of his choice to marry!
I believe local anglos call it a corn roast.
I'm not sure what culture or heritage might be involved. The festival is on one of the first hippy communes here in the US, founded back in '63 and still going. The land was once occupied by the Nez Perce tribe.
Where dio you live, in Idaho, Oregon or Montana?
Gee.. I dunno... :)
I'm in N Idaho, right next to the WA border.
All you'll ask in return is to seed out your *corn* cob, right?
Like it boiled or roasted?
Seems there is plenty singles out there!
Now, that fellow in the last picture of shuckfest, wearing the white T-shirt.. he looks very much like a buddy of mine and if they had been in CA I might think it was him. And those cute little hats...
Like it boiled or roasted?
Just discovered roasted corn this year. It is now a staple for our cook outs. Yummmmmmmm!
Take care,
Brian
I know most, if not all of you, will never attend a Corn Dance. So here's your vicarious experience.
First, the spot chosen was well away from any residences in the canyon, and was in a small clearing about 2/3 the way up the canyon wall. Basically you parked at the trailhead and carried anything in that you wanted/needed. Several people set up tents because they brought their children along and its better than having them sleep on the ground next to the fire.
At sundown the dance began with a Calling of the Directions. One person was called upon for each of the four directions, and each person was free to offer their own choice of words to the direction. I don't recall what was said for South or North, but East was basically a thanks for the new day, the new season and so forth, and West was a thanks for the vision and new direction. As each person spoke, they also lit thier side of the bonfire. The ceremony was a blending of so many different philosophies/beliefs/traditions, so that to a purist of any the meaning would have been utterly lost. But these are farming hippies, and they were simply happy to have a cause to celebrate. The dance ended at sunrise with another call to the directions, similar to the original and even less formal. We had all been up all night and were tired.
Dancing. There was actually very little dancing. I've got to believe that from year to year this changes based upon who attends. The dancers stayed home, I suppose.
Drumming. There was a beat sustained by someone all night long. At times we sounded good - enough to invoke a little dance movement - but mostly it was a muddled cacophony. Alas.
Celebrating. This seemed to be the biggest theme. Entire families made the climb up the canyon wall. Petty differences was cast aside in the spirit of celebration. Children were giddy with the idea that on this one night they could stay up as late as they wanted. Family pets (dogs) were busy chasing one another throughout the clearing. New friendships were made, old friends who couldn't make the trip this year were remembered. So, in essence, this is a festival for those hard working farming folk looking for a few hours of fun after planting the spring crop, and an opportunity to give thanks for being allowed to work hard.
Macguru, you may be pleased to know that I did indeed spend a couple of hours associating with a pretty woman. Joitha is an Indian (continential, not American) woman who made her way to the farm after experiencing disillusionment with the usual standards of living. In other words, she lost her university job and headed west looking for a new direction in her life. We might have talked more, but she was anxious to get home to check on her newborn sheep. It was refreshing to find someone with so many common experiences - from the Gita and its expanding philosopies to dropping-out and finding a new direction in life. And I have a standing offer for 50 pounds of organic red wheat any time I want to go pick it up :)
Sad to hear that.
Ever heard of our local tamjams [membres.lycos.fr]?
Montréal is a city built on an island. Like most ilslands involves a mountain, The Mont-Royal is one of the rendez-vous points. Please see this :
[membres.lycos.fr...]
Dont miss the picture gallery : 400 picts worth a thousand words each.
Glad you could spend some good time with pretty womens, when drumming was too cacophonic.
Conversations can be good breaks to real primitive communication, sometimes. ;)
Hard to reply to this without getting close to politics...
Feel welcomed, as you are.
Watch the pictures, drumbeats sound as good as the pictures looks. No "caco-phony".
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Do you have the grain mill to deal with 50 pounds of organic red wheat?
Keep growing your own 'hemp' strain. ;)
