It is currently a balmy -15 degrees here in the big Windy, with windchill bringing it down to -40. This isn’t typical for us. We get below zero, but not usually by this much. After a combined snow fall adding up to almost three feet in some areas, this? This sucks. On the plus side, not being able to leave the house means I’ve been doing nothing but production. On the minus side, I’m running out of glitter but it’s too damn cold to go for supplies. Or beer. Which I’m also running out of. Though the Jewel is way closer than the crafty store so at least one problem is easily remedied.
In any case, the omfg cold got me to reminiscing about mah travlin’ days. Rennies chase the good weather all year long. When you do it full time, and if you choose where you spend your off season right, you almost never have to have winter at all. The faire season started in Arizona and Florida in February. I did the AZ show for 8 years. Long about mid January it would be time to start thinking about a road trip to far more pleasant latitudes. It is so much easier to put up with these long months of cold and dark when you know that two weeks into the thick of it (the “thick” being January/February, which are the most gawd awful heinous weather months in this latitude) you’ll be packing your stuff and going here…
Those are the Superstition Mountains in Arizona. They were in my back yard at the Arizona Renaissance Faire.
Though Phoenix and it’s environs has the distinction of being the meth capital of the US, the upshot was that we were out in the desert looking at THAT ^, not in the city with meth heads. There isn’t much besides meth, Mormons and snow birds in the Phoenix metro valley, but the desert around it is full of awesome. Hiking, hot springs, arboretums, trail riding. If you’re not the outdoorsy type you’d hate it, but nobody who doesn’t at least tolerate the thought of living in a tent in the woods joins the renaissance faire so it’s pretty safe to assume we were all the outdoorsy type.
The show was never great money-wise, but after a cold winter waiting tables or dancing on them, these babies were a welcome sight, and so was the dry, (usually) warm desert air. Besides, even when the desert spring was crappy, it was a damn sight better than three feet of snow and negative temperatures.
It’s funny how you get to miss even the weird and annoying parts. Like shaking my boots out in the morning to dislodge any scorpions that had taken up residence in the night. Or looking down the privy hole for spiders. Not even kidding. My first year at that show I nearly put my lady bits in dangerous proximity to a black widow who had built a web in the porta john. Look before you lavatory when out in the bush.
But the sunsets were epic and there’s nothing like waking up in the middle of the darkest, starriest night ever to coyotes serenading the moon.
Don’t judge me, man. When this is what’s outside my window…
I can hardly be blamed for getting nostalgic.
To all my rennie peeps who are hitching up their wagons in a couple of weeks and heading to warmer places to begin a new season, as the Romany say, latcho drom. Safe travels. And think of me for a second when you taste the first breath of warm air when you get where you’re going. Cuz I’m jealous as hell.