As in the aforementioned post, I could not make the journey to the holy land this year. Next year in Jerusa—– Pennsic.A few folks had created a small circle in the middle of the lawn. Garb, fencing, thrown weapons, food and archery were all surrounding this (safely at distance… the marshalls all checked! I watched). Music started. I sat and listed to the dulcet tones of these strangers. There is nothing more comforting and home than music. One gentleman asked me if I sang or played anything or if I was just there to listen. I responded “Both”. They asked me if I would share. Who was I to say no. I was honestly there to just listen, but denying someone music is the worst crime of all.
I pulled out a tune I knew well and suddenly new friends were made. We jammed for what seemed like hours. I harmonized with the other performers, I noodled on one of their guitars, sang by myself, had them harmonize with me. It was heaven. Now I just need to figure out how to make this happen in Malagentia. To the drawing board!
Lord Frederick Vanderveer had approached me once again to open my mouth to make pretty noises. It was time to arrange another concert for GNEW. It was a bit harder to wrangle performers this year due to the fighting schedule and the notoriously long pomp and circumstance of Court.
I had lined up a few new acts for the concert. Something about this year filled me with the anticipation of new and exciting talent.
A few days prior to the concert, I began to receive multiple messages from people who could no longer perform. What started as a venue of 7 performers was now down to 4. This would still work, but we all suddenly had more stage time to fill.
Bardic Grove had been moved to Merchants Row, and the stage was now more intimate. The concert was slated for Friday night so it would not compete with Court (besides, some of us like to go to bed BEFORE the thunder parties are over).
Waiting with me to perform was Lady Nuala McKensie, but my 2 other performers never appeared.
I swore I would still make this work.
Nuala and I would weave between pieces. I also had the genius idea to turn the concert stage into a safe space for newer and less confident performers.
Lord Frederick Vanderveer happened to be in attendance. I asked him if he would grace us with a piece. He gladly accepted and entertained the audience with a beautiful melody. It was really nice to see him perform. He doesn’t often get a venue to perform vocally and sometimes the bard factor can be intimidating.
After that, we also had the joy of being entertained by Lord Greger when he told us a humorous tale of one of his many experiences within the SCA.
To round out the night, we had a young woman with a beautiful voice who had never performed publicly before. It was absolutely lovely to have new blood show such bravery as to perform in front of an audience at our show.
We finished with a group performance of “Life Blood”, which has always been an SCA favorite of mine.
The next day, there were to be several courts held. There was one mid day at which a friend of mine would be receiving an award, so I made sure to be present.
There was a hold with the royalty (not uncommon in these situations). They had called for a bard. Typically, in these circumstances the King’s or Queen’s personal bard would be called to perform, however, neither was present for this event. Being noticed by the King, I was called to perform. I did not have my bard book on me, but without hesitation I began to sing. I few verses later, my services were no longer needed and court resumed.
I had never been called on to perform so suddenly and without preparation. This was a huge honor bestowed upon me by the royalty, and I can only be thankful my performance was not preceded by me losing my lunch all over the court attendees.
Some funds, some funds, my Kingdom for some funds!
It had been 8 years since I had done my last professional recording. I was eager to get my feet wet again. The wish fairy came to my aid via the Tome of Visages carrier pigeon. I received a request from Drake Oranwood. Drake was organizing a fundraiser for the East Kingdom Travel Fund. If one is not familiar, it is very expensive to be King and Queen, and so, we, as loyal citizens, aim to increase the size of their coffers.
We would put together a CD/digital download of East Kingdom anthems.
I was sent a piece by Mistress Aife Ingen Chonchobair in Derthaige called The Eastern Tyger’s Roar. I gave the piece one listen and needed no additional motivation. I learned the piece over the next few days and traveled to the Barony of Endewerde to visit with Mistress Aneleda. She had a sweet, sweet setup (next to her washer, dryer, and ironing board).
Recording started promptly at 10:30 PM Eastern Standard Time, and concluded 11:30 PM. I think I may have done 9 takes in that time, some of which may or may not have been composed entirely of giggles. The finished product was sent via carrier pigeon to Lord Drake and were never heard from again until the time of final production. What can I say? I am my biggest critic.
If you’d care for a listen, and to support the East Kingdom, please follow the link below.
When in Rome, do like the Romans! Wear togas… what did you think I was going to say?
Callooh Callay! Oh frabjous day! My friends were getting crowned.
This little Viking — well, not so little, really — feels weird, because she doesn’t know how to roman. She’s more of a stayin kinda gal, to be honest. Thank goodness for Bianca di Firenze, who knows all about stolas and pallas and I’m pretty sure dressed the entire kingdom. Or at least the Malagentian half.
But before the festivities were to begin, there was always more work to be done for this Viking-turned Roman. Wait, where’s my bling? None of my bling matches! ACK!
I had been informed a few months prior that Lord Alexandre St Pierre was to receive *his* Laurel — I think you’ll start to notice a trend of when I compose. At least, I’m not decomposing. Yet. Wait, what’s that smell?
Anyways, how does one write a song for a scribe? I made lists of all the things he couldn’t do very well — it wasn’t that long a list. I even tried to read poems about other scribes — don’t try it, because they don’t exist. But what does exist is a passion for hobbies, and then I was inspired by his passion. By his words, by what came from his hands, you could even say inspired by his hands.
I wanted well-rounded scribe, but a talented artist, and an archer as well. So I figured it out. I wasn’t going to write him a song. I was going to write him a poem instead!
Poems were their own sort of challenge, because they weren’t restricted by the same parameters as a song. Word stress was also far different. I hadn’t written a poem for anyone in seventeen years. I guess you have to start somewhere. Again. I stared at blank paper. I stared at ink. I made lists of all to include *everything* he did, not just the scribal aspect. I used allusions to swords and to archery, and music as well. I was pleased with the product, but as always, shy to present it to the public.
Coronation arrived, and I think I figured out which way was up with my garb — the little arrows Bianca safety-pinned on really helped. I arrived early to help set up his vigil. And schmooze, as you do. And check for the 513th time I was wearing my palla correctly. Which fell off my head over 9,000 times! If I hadn’t been told how much of a hussy I would have been without one, I would have just given up on the darn thing.
Morning court came, and everyone played it cool. I had Alexandre’s little flaggy hidden in my palla, and he was the first one called in. The look of, “Oh crap!” was priceless! Hopefully someone got it on camera! We waved our little flaggies and watched as he was sent off to vigil. He was one of the lucky ones, because he wasn’t there when (former) King Brion made the entire room cry while singing “My Queen” to his lovely wife, Anna. I bet Alexandre’s were the only dry eyes in the entire building as King Brion sang well and with all his heart, nothing could have been more true. It was really freaking adorable. Even the Vikings cried, though they probably won’t admit it, since they were all disguised as Romans.
About an hour into his vigil, I finally got my chance to present my gift to Alexandre. I felt like one of the fairies from Sleeping Beauty. I hope it’s not Merryweather. Oh God, or Maleficent!
Since I lack the skill of calligraphy and illumination — I’m learning, but it’s taking quite a bit of time — I had “borrowed” in classic Viking fashion, a previously created illumination from Ye Olde Internets, and had placed the words of my own composition on it using Ye Olde Word MMXIII. You would think, as a bard, I’d be better at words in vigils. But I feel as if I always walk all over my tongue. I spoke to Alexandre of the beauty that he presents the world, and his multitude of gifts. So now it was my time to give him a gift back, the only one I have to offer. I handed him the framed copy, and then began to read. I didn’t catch his reaction, since I was too busy being nervous reading it to him to look up, but I feel it was well received. I also let him know that I learned a new trade just to be able to honor him that day. I told him that I would be heralding him into court. This is something I had never done before, not just in court aspect, but at all.
The rest of the afternoon passed, and it was time for the afternoon court, the first court of the new King and Queen, my friends, Ionnes and Honig. We anxiously mustered in the hall. We were all of Woolfe’s Company: We were small but we were mighty. Thank you, New England April Fool’s Day storm. We were the last business, but the energy was still high. As herald, I was the second to process, the first being a small boy no older than eight years old, carrying Alexandre’s banner of arms. I wrote the words that morning as I was inspired, and grandiosely presented my friend to the Known World. In addition, I had arranged a Machaut piece (which was of his persona) to be played as I heralded. I made sure the words suited him, and that I was clearer than crystal. The world would tremble at his presence. But not too much, because as Sir Ivan remarked, he is a small man.
Beautiful gifts were presented to him as were his right, and court finished soon after as all the Laurels swarmed to welcome their newest inductee. I got a hug too.
Now my favorite part of any event, that doesn’t have shopping, FEAST!
This feast would have a new twist — I had signed up to serve. It’s true. My palla found a new place to live, as I became a kitchen hussy. This experience was not only enlightening, because while I had only just recently learned what it was like to run a feast a few months prior, I had never served a feast before. I would say I rolled up my sleeves and dug in, but I didn’t have any. Where it was a whirlwind at times, it was still a great time. The camaraderie and leftovers were great. 9.5, maybe 10 out of 10, would definitely serve again. Besides, any time I can be that close to Gryffyth’s food is a fantastic day in my book!
By His Hand
“Look at that,” he said, “how the ink bleeds.” It mirrors the way the rivers of the soul soak in the parchment He loved the way it looked to write on a thick pillow of the pad To him, it was like music, a song in his hands– all of the possible drawings, curves, relationships– all of the answers, questions, mysteries, all of the problems solvable in that space. The pen in his hand, a key to the prison, that white space. By his hand, a new beginning. By his hand, imagery–flights of arrows Piercing through the stark confines Like a sword dashing through the dark, Revealing a new light in his work, in his words
It was time for me to put on my big bard… big skald? Pants and go out head to head… neck to neck.. Voice to voice with the best that the east kingdom had to offer. Fuzzy hat? Check! Brooches! (or as some call them, nipple shields)? Czech… I mean CHECK! Documentation? 2 pages…. Check! Repertoire? Checkkkkkkk.
Lets back up a little bit. The week prior to the event, several of my friends, peers, peerfriends had asked if I was competing in King and Queens Bardic competition. I’d frequent statements like, “Oh, it’s too far” or “I’m not good enough” or even “I didn’t know … I got nothin’”. Finally, it was 5 days prior to the event, when I somehow got swindled into competing and agreed. I sent in my email of intent to compete… a whopping 4 hours before the deadline.
The Friday before the event, I drove to Lady Olivia’s abode and realized.. ACK! I had forgotten my documentation on my desk at work. Thank goodness I has a smart and save all my documentation in cloud form. The new task was making sure her printer actually did a thing. A bottle of mead later, we had a working printer and mostly legible documentation.
The day of the event, I wandered lost, gripping my styrofoam cup of milk of gods… dunkin doughnuts coffee in one hand and the other clung to an eggwhite sandwich. I wandered the beautiful venue, gathering myself and aimlessly looking to where troll was. I maybe knew a few familiar faces, but the queen and kings bards were not amongst them. I eventually stumbled on them.
As I anxiously waited for the competition to begin, I was blessed to have more familiar faces there on site. Lady Ada happened to have a fidget cube which she sacrificed for me to calm my nerves. The time had come and my name was called for my first piece. I started by speaking about the piece itself, the translation literal than poetic and then made a -just barely- off color joke. I think the audience received this well. Racing through my head, hidden behind my pleasant facade, was thoughts of “Oh, Viking persona… how well can she sing?” “Oh, she told a joke… she must be compensating”. Even the king himself looked distracted and less than interested at the moment. It was time, I opened my mouth and the room seemed to lull into a hush. My heart stopped at the end of the cadenza when the applause filled the room. Almost immediately after the first round was over, several individuals approached me with tokens. I was astounded. I have never received more than one at a time at an event, ever. I thanked everyone graciously for their tokens and then wandered into the A and S display to calm my mind a little bit.
Round 2, fight! It was time to announce of the 16 competitors, who could be moving on. My name was called as one of the last few announced and my heart hit the floor in gratitude. Now it was time to regain my composure for round 2. I had a stories prepared to show that I was more diverse than just a vocalist. Albeit, I only have 1 story to tell, but damnit I am going to tell it.
I approached as my name was called, and called for the biggest, bravest individuals in the audience to join me. Let’s face it, we bards are hams. I had about 9-10 folks join me. I left their participation description to the end and informed the audience of their parts in my story. Again, fighting the urge to self deprecate myself in my own mind I pushed on. The story roared for about 13 minutes (4 minutes longer than I had planned) and again, a thunderous applause.
Wise guy remarks were dropped to me from the Prince afterwards and I felt good about myself. The final 4 were to be announced, but my name had not been called. That was ok. I felt good about my work. Another several individuals approached me and presented me with tokens, and two more had IOUs for me. The King himself was amongst those who had presented me with their token. I was in shock and awe. I’ll take it!
I approached the current reigning bards for feedback so I’d be ready for next year. I was told my documentation was spot on, my vocal performance was stellar, but my story was too long. I was however, told that I was a fantastic story teller. They asked me if I had more, to which I said, “No, this is my one and only, which I have only performed 2 times prior”. I was encouraged to continue singing and of course storytelling.
This may have not made me KIng or Queen’s bard, but I went home a winner!
*Puffs out chest* I’m on staff this year! Well, kinda sort of. I was running Bardic Circle that night. But before then, Shopping!
Then after shopping, fashion happened. And then court. I don’t remember much of court, because I spent much of it retaining for both their Excellencies and their Highnesses. Court actually finished on time this year {*gasp* say it isn’t so!} and I had time between then and Bardic Circle. I sauntered my way over to where the Fashion Show had been performed earlier and where we’d be Circling shortly, and to my surprise, there were already folks ready to sing.
We did Pick, Pass, or Play: you pick someone to play a piece, pass it to someone else, or play your own piece. We were getting towards the end of the night, and a middle-aged Italian woman had asked for someone to sing a piece from her homeland. Without even thinking, I had a case of helium-hand, almost hitting the unsuspecting Aneleda behind me, who was also raising her hand. We looked to one another, mouthed, “Cacinni,” and quickly decided to turn a solo into a duet. I would sing the melody, while she sang the harmony.
When we were done, our new Italian friend, had tears in her eyes. I asked if my Italian was still decent, and she responded she thought I was a native. She continued to go on about how Aneleda and I had warmed her heart, and how we were now fast friends. The Circle went on until about eleven, and then the night ended mutually, as the bards and their audience had been wandering off to find their beds or other amusements at their own pace.
Jingle Bells, the Baron Smells, MacFrode laid an egg…
Ahem, sorry.
This is the year I get to attend, and have no responsibility. The Viking was incognito, donning 13th century garb, trading in my beads for a veil, and a fancy belt. However, never leaving my side is my Bard-Book — like a safety blanket, it goes with me everywhere.
Music was supposed to be run by someone else this year, so it was time for me to be a regular bystander and enjoy the atmosphere. Besides, I had my own little event to worry about back home, I didn’t want to do anything but eat, drink, and be merry. However, we know how these things tend to work out.
A familiar tugging on my kirtle occurred, but not from Photographer-Girl — she was absent this year, and I missed her greatly, — but from the Music Maestra herself. Inquisitively, she asked when music would begin. I gave her a blank stare. I said it was her show, and I was happy to sing whenever she needed me.
More time passed, and another tugging, from a different individual. However, same question. It seemed like it wasn’t just the food that brought people to this event. Finally, a third tug had me deciding to snap the chariot reins. I Oyez’ed for interested participants, and made a space for singing. Luckily, I had brought my security blanket full of a plethora of holiday music. We gathered in the hall, and sang through my usual repertoire. When I ran out of music, it turned out that the Music Maestra had indeed brought her own holiday SCA filks.We sang through those, and the event soon ended after.
I’m starting to wonder if I’m a musical Moses. I hope I’m not doomed to wander for 40 years.
Who’s smart idea was it to let the bard autocrat an event? Who’s smart idea was it to let the Viking bard autocrat an event? Vikings are known for pillaging, ravaging, and burning, not planning, and organizing, and decorating!
However, this Viking likes food. And I had an awesome kitchen staff. Despite all the hare in the stew.
I spent months planning my first event {Trust me, she did, it’s all she would talk about at fencing practice. (Shut up, Karen!)} And I never took for granted how much work the autocrats put into their events, big or small. I had excel spreadsheets, checklists, and lists for my excel-lists and checksheets. No, wait.
And best of all, the best deputy a Viking could ask for. My deputy found my masterful feastocrats, and also helped to find the perfect location. I didn’t just want this event to be delicious, I wanted the atmosphere to feel like home. If home had servers. And live music. And dancing. And games. And a silent auction. And room to seat 120.
Oh, and two surprise guests I couldn’t even imagine would grace my small event. But that comes later.
Before I had even submitted my bid. I made sure I had beat all my ducks into submission, and they were all in a neat row. I had lined up all my volunteers, and had my menu planned, and waited several weeks anxiously to find out my bid had been accepted.
Once everything had been lined up, I had about a month and a half to complete everything on my checklists. Everything fell into line easily, almost like I had planned it to. Until two weeks prior to the event…
Dun dun DUUUUUUN!
I had received a message on the Tome of Visages from Astrid, head retainer for their Royal Highnesses. “Hey Solvieg, Guess who’s coming to visit?”
I don’t know, Batman and Robin?
Good guess, but think a little bit fancier. With pointy hats.
Batman and Robin putting on a Statue of Liberty cosplay?
Close, but still no cigar.
Their Highnesses!
*insert cursing in my brain*
My heart began to palpate. What are you supposed to do to royalty? Or is it *with* royalty? Do I also have to dress up fancy and wear a floofy dress? Gosh darn it, I don’t wanna! You can’t make me!
The realization that the event was a week and a half away, and I don’t know what to do with royals or where to put them, or even where they went on my excel sheets, I did what any insane person would do: reach out to my 50 closest friends who had run events before, and ask for their sagest knowledge. And when that didn’t cut it, alcohol suggestions.
I was blessed with copious suggestions, and my mind was put at ease.
Hooray! The day of the event!
Wait, what is all this white stuff?! Why is it snowing?!
Because it’s January in Maine. Gah.
Thanks to the presence of our Royals, the event was sold out before the doors even opened. I had more volunteers than I knew what to do with for set up. And more kept coming. The hall was beautiful, filled with everything from garlands to banners of personal arms. We even glitter bombed their Highnesses chairs (thanks Karen! {My pleasure! His Highness said I gave him craft herpes, hehe!})
The fragrance of fine food filled the air. (<– see, I made alliteration work this time!) And I had just enough servers for the tables, even with Karen bouncing in and out of the kitchen as needed. We even had a small court, thank goodness for no set up. The removes rolled in, and empty dishes rolled out. Between removes, the Malagentian Bardic Players even performed. When there were no Malagentian Bardic Players performances, solo bards got up to do their own. Some I had pre-arranged, and some were a surprise. I felt almost empty, not having performed up to that point. It was my duty to make sure the event kept running smoothly, however, my deputy advised me that for five minutes, the event would be under control with me {Oh, what a liar!} (Shut up Karen!). She encouraged me to get up and sing, and so I did just that. I performed one piece by myself, and then an improvised duet with a friend.
{Karen even got up with the same friend and sang The Feast Song with her! And Karen doesn’t sing in public!}
As the night came to a close, their Highnesses presented me each with their tokens, which were the first ones minted of their reign. On top of that, the numbers were run for the event, and we made a $750 profit {on an event that usually loses money! Wow!}, and a $450 donation to the Riding of Ravensbridge through the Silent Auction.
The snow continued to fall, though my wonderful volunteers stuck around to help break down the event. I think I made it home in one piece. I didn’t leave site until 11:30. I don’t remember how I got home, I just remember crawling into bed and sleeping until noon the next day. What an exhausting and wonderful experience. The cherry on the sundae was receiving from many individuals about how much they loved the variety of bardic performances throughout the evening. 8.5 out of 10, would definitely consider running again, in a few years at least. As long as it’s not a last minute Royal Progress…
Eight months prior to the event, I received a message on the Visage of Tomes from Mistress Aneleda. And within this message, she inquired whether I’d be willing to serve as an ad hoc choir director for an Elizabethan immersion event. Without hesitation *damn helium hand* I said sure! She quickly put me in touch Mistress Aife/Master Valentine, as well as the autocrat for this event. Most of the communication was done through email. Me, being an introvert with extroverted tendencies, I really just wanted a phone call. But I’d make this work anyway.
I was in charge of obtaining vocalists, selecting the music, and rehearsing for a one-day event. Now, you might think, this is crazy, how can you do that, why would you do such a thing, that’s impossible? Trust me, I asked myself these same things over the course of eight months. I’m sure these are the same questions I would be asking myself if I ever found myself knocked up, and some mornings, thinking about the task I had taken on, I woke feeling queasy.
Much like the first trimester, these feelings passed as this baby grew. I tried to figure out the best way to communicate with my potential vocalists: would it be via the book of faces, email, yahoo groups, carrier pigeons, messages in bottles (I felt like I needed to drink a lot of wine to get through this, so I might have some empty bottles), maybe smoke signals? And finally settled on Facebook, even knowing not everyone used it.
Four months prior to the event, as the second trimester as it were was wrapping up, my search for singers would begin. I joined EVERY Eastern Kingdom Facebook group I could find, and started to spread the gospel. The responses started to trickle in. Some committed, some didn’t, but it gave me hope.
Three months prior to the event. Huh, I should probably pick the music now, just like a parent would pick names, right? I had done my research months prior as to selecting what type of pieces — knowing that each piece had to be Elizabethan, — but the exact pieces hadn’t been chosen until I knew what vocal range my vocalists had, and how many I would have. You can’t do six-part harmony with only two people, after all. Even Vikings can do that much complex math. I settled on five pieces in polyphony, and a few rounds. I sent out a copy of the scores, midi recordings with all the parts, as well as individual parts, for song-learning, so even if my vocalists couldn’t read music, I should have my bases covered.
A few weeks prior to the event, I kept checking in with my vocalists, to see how part-learning was going. I myself had to study the scores and be ready to assist on any of the four parts as necessary. Also, with learning the score, is looking ahead, and anticipating where there might be part difficulty. My scores looked like a rainbow. It had also occurred to me that I would need suitable garb for this event, because while Vikings pillaged quite a bit, they weren’t around to pillage the Elizabethan court. Aw, hell. Thank goodness for Fortune St Keyne. This goddess, this angel of mercy, whipped me up some spiffy threads in but a few weeks time.
A week prior to the event, I still didn’t have a final number of individuals who would be participating. It was coming down to crunch time, time to push this metaphoric baby out, and it was like we didn’t have a birth plan. Or a hospital. Or something equally important, I don’t know.
Day of event! Don’t panic. Don’t forget your towel. I’m panicking! No, don’t panic!
I was early. I’m always early. I hauled my feast gear, my keyboard, my music, my pitch-pipe, my garb, my piano-bench, and other assorted things needed for the event up the stairs of this decommissioned church. I set my things up in my rehearsal space, and slowly began to decrease my heart rate. Don’t they talk about breathing in those birth classes? Something like that. In all my years of being a choir director, I had never been in this situation before. I didn’t know what levels of experience my vocalists had, or if they had even learned their music. Heck, I didn’t even know if anyone would show up. I asked my vocalists to show up at 10am, so we would have a good two hours of rehearsal time all together. In typical musician manner — or maybe it was Scadian manner? — they were tardy. Circa 10:30, we finally got down to working on the music. My vocalists were surprised that I insisted on warming them up, like I was a professional or something. In my own turn, I was pleasantly surprised that I had a well balanced and versatile group. And they had all learned their music!!! If I could work with them every time I had to choose vocalists in the future, I would in a heartbeat.
I was also pleased to find that every section of music that I anticipated difficulty with came up, and I was able to nip it in the bud quickly and efficiently. Proper planning prevents poor performance, right? The only surprise in the rehearsal was the sheer delight and ease of this experience. Every single one of my singers were prepared and respectful. It was beyond anything I could have even imagined. I even got to twirl in my dress.
The autocrat, Lady Olivia, had done a beautiful job with her dream, though through no fault of her own, had difficulties the day of the event, with kitchen mishaps beyond her control. The only reason I bring this up, because it affected performance time. We didn’t know when we would perform, but at least we had prepared a signal. What happened next was also incredible, performance time.
My angels took to the loft, and we assembled in the planned formation. Song after song, beautiful harmonies echoed throughout the hall. I got so excited throughout one piece, I lost control of my baton, and it left my fingers. I *think* it missed my vocalists, and landed somewhere in the pews next to us. I was saved the embarrassment of trying to climb beneath the pews by one of my angels, who retrieved said baton and returned it to me. Could a director get any luckier?
Video by : Anna Elisabetta deValladolid.
Even during one of the pieces, where it had slightly derailed, they continued to sing like nothing was wrong until we could get it back on track. They were true professionals in my eyes that day. There was downtime for soloist performers as well, which I had arranged, a few of my vocalists had asked me if I would sing that day. At first I refused, because that day was not about me, but I finally decided it was something I should do, if only to stop them from asking.
Photo by Lady Olivia Baker
I sheepishly approached the front of the balcony and waited for the moment to feel right. When it did, I sang the only Elizabethan solo piece I knew by heart. When I was done, I was glad I had performed, because soon after, I was approached by five individuals who presented me with their tokens. One was chocolatey and delicious.
I am also pleased that after this performance that I gained so many new friends and performers, that I would not give up this experience for anything. Okay, maybe the Elizabethan dress. If I could have done the whole thing in my Viking, the day would have been MUCH better!
Through solitude’s blooming orchid garden, A graceful and elegant maiden does stride, Enters our lady, Camille Desjardins, Lavender waves across an amethyst tide.
The flowers herald her arrival, Blossom with each step serene, As if her presence Spring’s revival, All in her grace stay evergreen.
Careful she gazes upon their beauty, with every floret’s form observed, For she accepts her kingdom’s duty, to see them on a scroll preserved.
Her brushstrokes capture and acclaim, the trappings of renown and glory, To skill and service she does bring fame, And to great battle, and claimed quarry.
Upon her parchment she infuses, Life into the artistry she weaves, She is the favored of the muses, Her inspiration the lakes and leaves.
She captures the beauty of color and light, Immortalizing honors with ink and quill, To bring glory to those who do right, Her patient hands bear unwavering skill.
This art alone could be life’s labor, Yet her talent flows without such bounds, Her voice, her stitch, her nimble saber, The quality of which astounds.
Her voice can soothe a heart of fire, Granting peace and granting reason, As a lark’s call disperses ire, that sounds upon the warming season.
Her mastery of fiber weaving, Shows clearly within her stitch, The way she blends fiber receiving, awe from those it does enrich. And none would dare to test her mettle, As this gentle flower does adorn, Herself with not just purple petal, But with our kingdom’s golden thorn.
A woman finely celebrated, In talents stitched and inked and floral, Does rightly need be elevated, Into the Order of the Laurel.
Meddlings of the Minnesinger 