It rained, all day. Not just one of those days when it drizzles a bit, but a day where it just poured. Most people get all gloomy, but I love this kind of weather. I sat inside and made art. The hush and calm it lays on me reminds me of the summers of my childhood. Looking out the window I noticed that the thick hairy berries drooping from its branches have started to turn from green to red to a deep burgundy purple, just like the mulberry tree on the walk up to the porch. I'm dreamy and lost in nostalgia, suddenly whisked away to Buck's Rock Road. Driving up the hill, feeling the familiar curves, dips, and hills until FINALLY the Actor's Studio emerged... this was a return home. At Buck's Rock, every morning I woke up free. Everyday was filled with creativity. And the people around me, loved me.
Laying on the lawn, listening to the trees with the wood shop's tools whining in the background. The guitar boys on the porch. Sitting by the glass blowing studio at night to stay away from the mosquitoes and feel the heat of the glory holes. The morning sounds and the cold floor of the dance studio. The excitement working up to Informance and Dance Night. Late nights talking to my best friends in the whole world (who truly understood my 12, 13, 14, 15, 17, 19 year old self) and watching one shooting star after the next. Collating the yearbook, the smell of the wax at Batik, FRAV (fried ravioli), bagels on Sunday, Tanglewood, Jacob's Pillow, The Yudins, Malka, Juliet, my dance studio posse, The Brits, Ernst, and always being able to find my family just down the path (if I needed to, but never really had to), possibly covered in paint. These are pieces of me. Things I have known and will always love.
Buck's Rock was the place I really grew up, where I was able to be myself, and just make things. I carry the vibrance and joy of that magical place with me, always trying to recreate a bit of home wherever I may be.