The shittier life gets and the more apocalyptic the surrounding world becomes the more I desperately need whimsy and the Sparkle barn… well, it was exactly what I needed! This place was so nonsically colorful it just fed my soul.
It had been on my bucket list for a few months but to be honest I had no idea what to expect. It was really just the title that was sparking my infinite curiosity.
We visited the Sparkle Barn on our second day in Vermont. It was our first stop and quite a hike into the middle of nowhere but you know, Vermont’s like that. It’s the state that hides a lot of treasures behind a mischievous smile.
Driving up it didn’t look like too much from the outside although there was a broken down bus in the parking lot with a beach ball in its window painted to look like a giant eyeball. Trippy. I like the fact someone else besides me was personifying cars. By now the issues at home that had been dogging my companion the day before had come to a head and he was now having a bit of a meltdown yelling into the phone. I gave him some space by wandering into the yard of this odd place.
There seemed to be a garden of sorts out front but it was unlike any garden I’d ever seen. For one the flowers were all made of brightly colored metal. They reminded me a bit of Alice in Wonderland. Beyond them was a bench in the shape of a unicorn you could sit on and so many other sparkly metal decorations both dancing in the wind and tacked up to the barn’s wall. I was fucking loving this and I hadn’t even stepped inside yet!
Inside was even sparklier. The entryway was surrounded by stained glass windows and the inside was a darling little gift shop with fancy notebooks and diaries and whatnot, a light smattering of nerdcore (like some Edgar Allen Poe dolls!) It was all very cute. Unfortunately, my companion was still coming down from his traumatic phone call and was more than a little distracted. That is until we walked into a room that seemed at complete odds with the over the top color of the rest of this place. It was a room with a wall mural of ravens. There was a big Gothic chair and candles and witchy items for sale in case anyone needed a bundle of sage or a piece of Edgar Allen Poe or Edward Gorey memorabilia. Honestly, I haven’t done enough with those two as both had lived in New England at some point in their lives. And I adore both of their work.
However the biggest treat of this place was upstairs which was so immersing that it shocked both of us into experiencing the moment. The second floor of the barn was an “interactive art display.” And when I tell you EVERY last inch of wall, ceiling, and floor of this place was covered in brightly colored fabrics and enormous fake flowers I mean it. It was literally like walking into Alice in Wonderland. The photos just don’t do it justice. Vines and flowers dangled from above and seemed to sprout from the plush super thick shag carpet as well. Child size chairs and tables in the form of flower petals and toadstools sat in two rows so you could sit or watch the children scamper through this felted garden. This tickled every cell of my inner child. SO MUCH WHIMSY. I was so stupidly happy in this moment. This was a goddamn treasure for all ages. I wished more places like this existed. We both left in a much better mood than we arrived in.
Sometimes you find the best things while trying to go somewhere else. I remember when I was growing up the adults were always sooo frustrated when the kids would go completely off the rails and stop paying attention to whatever it was, they were supposed to be paying attention to, but I surmise this are the best bits of life.
I’m an adult now with flagrantly untreated ADD so not much has changed. My need for novelty and complete lack of planning are still fierce. So, it’s not surprising to know that on the way to Acadia State Park I passed by this absolutely chaotic antique store and HAD to stop. I am so glad we did!
This place was… mental. Outside a clutter of rural relics adorned the front, skeletons danced in the upstairs windows, and a giant lobster guarded a bus that looked like it’d been turned into a little cafe. Maybe that’s for the summer, I don’t know, I usually show up to these things off-season when everything looks abandoned and apocalyptic. But the store itself was still buzzing. People were shopping, there were two cashiers, life was good.
I found a bin of driftwood out front and rummaged through it as each piece was $5, a fraction of what driftwood back home costed, and I thought my aquarium fish deserved a nice addition to their decor. Inside the place looked even more like a barn than the outside with exposed beams and wood floors. I loved the atmosphere already, but it took a decidedly even more lovable turn the more we ventured inside. There were a number of vendors here who clearly had an eccentric sense of humor, or at least an unconventional decorating style. One corner drew me to it with its large arched window and posters plastered randomly in all directions all over the aforementioned arch. That vendor was selling action figures and animal bones. Because those two things are very complimentary. Just across from this was a huge assortment of brand-new books, the remnants of a failed bookstore I’m guessing. I picked up a really unique looking volume on New England folklore here and begrudgingly paid almost full price. It just was too damn interesting to leave.
In another room we found a life size Spiderman, tangled in webs on the ceiling, looking like he was about to be devoured by a black widow. I’m no expert on comics but I’m not sure that’s how that story goes… Aquaman was also on the ceiling, as I’m sure he’s accustomed, riding the top of a hanging canoe. And if that wasn’t alarming enough clowns started to appear, a life size It and a life-size Batman in a distressingly seductive pose neither of us could figure out. It wasn’t even the sexy revisionist Batman of the 80’s to present, it was the classic cartoonish version.
I was also delighted to see a whole booth of weird fish pottery. You cannot beat the absolute strangeness of local artists. All this wonderful ambiance seemed to be the heart of this adventure. It’s almost as if I’ve forgotten to mention the antiques! There were a number of them in this shop, and as is custom they ranged in price with the most affordable in the basement and the most insanely priced on the top floor. Really a nice assortment of everything small and quirky.
My companion left that day with an old Zippo lighter. It was shiny, and contains fire, so I could see the appeal. We both bought some bomb mittens that according to the cashier a sweet old lady had made from old sweaters. I have used them since, and they are really warm!! Highly recommended if you need a pair!
Annnnywaaay, if you happen to need a little whimsy in your life or like antiquing for small objects this is really where it’s at, and it’s near a lot of touristy things too if you come in the summer.
Ever have one of those moments where you find yourself somewhere odd, staring at something you can’t explain, and having no idea why? This seems to happen a lot to me and today was no different. I was on the Freedom Trail just meandering when I came across a seagull sitting atop a statue. I thought it was so funny I stepped into the dooryard to snap a photo and found instead the cutest little donkey statue under it! And honestly, I was going to let this go as just that… a fun little thing during the day, not a whole damn blog entry, but things started to get a bit weird. You see the donkey in addition to being life-size (to a miniature donkey) was also practically glowing. It was a bronze statue and a clearly well-loved ass as there were golden wear marks almost all over the damn thing! I mean I’d seen bronze statues polished by people touching them before but it’s always just one spot. This thing looked like it’d been furiously rubbed like a genie’s lamp. What… is going on here?? I looked around for an explanation but there wasn’t any plaques or signs or anything… it was just… an anomaly.
“Is it shiny because people pet it for good luck?” I asked my companion who had no idea either. Just for good measure I pet him. I’m not really superstitious but I could use some good luck… especially after the earlier parking fiasco and the traffic, my god, the traffic. Later I’d look up what made this donkey so special and when I read the story… I smiled!
Apparently, they donkey is absolutely as random as it looks. He started his life in Italy where a Roger Webb found him, became enamored, and purchased him for the low low price of ten thousand dollars. Why? He wanted to put him on the Freedom Trail to entertain bored children! But you can’t just put a random donkey on the Freedom Trail. That makes no sense. And when he tried to donate the donkey to the city of Boston they just frowned. No. just no. BUT HE’S SO CUTE, LOOK AT HIM!
Anyway… eventually Mr. Webb came to lease the courtyard of The Old City Hall and he decided that would be a great place to board the little guy. Certainly, better than his daughter’s garage which is where it was spending all it’s time during this lack of a custody battle. He still had to make up a reason for why it should be there and so he just muttered, “Democrats?” And apparently Boston relented. That is until after the donkey was put in place and the Republicans got their panties in a bunch wondering where their elephant was going to go. To appease them Webb did put a dedication up to the Republicans but it wasn’t in the form of a bronze elephant it was actually just a set of footprints directly in front of the donkey…. so they could stand in opposition to it.
Meanwhile, much to Webb’s glee the donkey became a BELOVED monument, climbed on by children of all ages, pet on the regular, and with selfies galore. And I mean… it deserved it. Why? Because it’s ridiculous and adorable, that’s why. In this increasingly hostile world sometimes it’s nice just to spread joyful chaos. So, if you’re of a whimsical nature like myself I think you too should pay a visit to this sweet little donkey.
Since my brain hasn’t been working full capacity for A WHILE now I have been allowing other people to pick my travel destinations – which by the way keeps things interesting for sure! I end up places I wouldn’t have even thought of and that’s great! But this time around when the location was mentioned I was far less than enthusiastic about it. You see it was the tri-state marker in Douglas MA, a small town I used to live in, and the only town I can say I never wanted to step foot in again. It’s not the town, which is quaint and idealistic, but the fact I built my dream life there and then had to leave it quite suddenly and under extreme duress. You can’t really blame me for not wanting to re-traumatize myself.
But that got me to thinking that maybe avoiding psychological triggers wasn’t the healthiest way to move forward in life. And why should I? Just because someone else made my life miserable why should I let them continue to have any power over me now? I shouldn’t. Because I have every right in the world to take a peaceful hike through the woods. So I did and I am super happy with my decision because it was awesome!
Into the muck I go!
Hell, if I knew when I lived there that there was a gorgeous HUGE state forest just a mile or two from my house I would have been there every day! Of the off season anyway. I guess it’s $9 per head for Mass residents and $30 a head for out-of-staters to get a day pass there during the on season. Little too rich for my blood but that’s only because I’m poor. Luckily for all of us we went during the off season when it’s free to everyone.
This place was whimsy central. The fall foliage was almost at it’s peak and everything was yellow with bursts of red and I can’t tell you how many mushrooms we found. Hundreds. All different kinds and colors – purple, red, pink, yellow, white, brown, and even some that looked like full sized pancakes on stalks! There were even mushrooms in every stage of life – a great deal of them having melted into gooey black puddles. I was just happy to be out with a party that seemed just as impressed with them as I was. And there was wildlife too. Before we even reached the proper trail I found a little red bellied snake just off the parking lot and there were salamanders and birds galore. And interestingly enough we also found a bunch of old foundations to what I am guessing were houses at one point. They were a delightful surprise. I have tried to look up information about them but no one’s been forthcoming and all I could really figure out was the forest was created in the 1930’s so the foundations had to have predated that.
We were all having a lot of fun but that’s not to say the journey wasn’t without it’s troubles. For one we didn’t have good directions at all and the 5.4 mile loop to the tri-state marker that we were promised was… how shall we say… not as straight forward as it seemed. It took several turns onto different trails and somewhere along the way we must have messed up because when we did find a marker it wasn’t the one we were looking for… it only marked the Massachusetts Rhode Island boundary. But we thought we found it and headed back to the car after many miles of hiking. By this point I decided I didn’t feel like dancing around the flooded parts of the path so I took off my shoes and went straight through the water. This was fine until I went through one puddle that went for quite a stretch and the water came almost up to my knees at points. Of course being a puddle and not clear water I couldn’t see where my feet were going and it was a rocky bottom making navigation challenging. Still, even though I was painfully slow, I didn’t regret my decision at all. That ice cold water cooled me down and indulged my inner child who found the splashing hilariously fun. By this time our party of four had whittled down to a party of three and I was struggling to keep up as my energy was going down to 3%. I’d pay for this dearly in the days afterwards but I still think it was worth it. My hiking companions were also not unfazed as the mosquitos were so thick on this day they nearly sucked us all dry. Little bizarre for mid October but OK! I don’t think my camera appreciated the trek very much unbeknownst to me it was throwing a fit the whole time and all my photos came out blurry. I apologize they are not as crisp and professional as other entries.
All and all this place was beautiful and I would happily return – maybe even finding the right marker this time! I highly suggest it to anyone who loves hiking, swimming, boating, or even horseback riding (as there was much evidence other horses had been through here.)
One of the things I have not been able to explore as much as I have wanted to is the local music scene – both what’s up in Boston as well as all the weird and unusual things going on in Vermont. Problem is I don’t like going to these shindigs alone (for reasons of safety) and none of my local friends are uh… as enthusiastic as I am about avant guard music. Soooo…. when I learned that a band I actually really adore out of Boston was showing up in Fitchburg for an open-air gig in the park I couldn’t say no.
If I’m honest it’d been a tough week for me but that made me all the more determined to get out there and enjoy this. Problem is there was pretty much no information anywhere. All I could find is it started at 4PM and tickets were $10 online (with no link to buy them) and $15 at the gates. Oooookaaaay. Right from the get-go I thought 4PM sounded weird as fuck for such a thing but whatever… I can still roll with it.
And I showed up at 4PM to a pretty empty park. In fact it was so empty that I wondered if I had the right park! Turns out I had accidentally bumbled into it from a rear entrance. And it was soooo Fitchburgy. To one side a plaque read about how this park was here because the river was soooo beautiful that it was determined it must be a park. And indeed there was some pretty impressive masonry holding up a flag whoosing over… a VERY overgrown and completely unkempt riverbank. Even hiking into the middle of nowhere I hadn’t seen a thicket of weeds so ferociously thick. I took a photo – and then was asked by a man if I was a volunteer. No? He told me to check in and pointed frantically towards the other side of the park. I shrugged and did as I was told.
Approaching the ticketmaster I asked what was up today, pretending to play dumb for a moment. She told me it was a Steampunk Festival and that there were vendors, food trucks, beer from a local brewery, and live music but they wouldn’t be starting for an hour. I knew 4PM had to be wrong! She didn’t even have tickets or anything so I bid her adieu and wandered the streets like a common urchin for a while. Until I got tired, found a bench, and just sat people watching. Problem is there seemed to be just as many people watching me, including a shuttle bus driver who kept passing and giving me the dirty eyeball. WHY? Is it the orange hair? It’s the orange hair.. or perhaps my general ne’er-do-well appearance. Two parked cop cars were also watching me sit idly by myself. I promise I wasn’t dealing. Seriously. Just minding my own!
Does this look like a face you’d trust? At least I had an excuse to wear the granny glasses again…
Eventually 5PM rolled around so I got off my duff and wandered back to the park, said hello again to the ticket master, and gave her exact change because she didn’t have a change box yet. I did however learn that this whole event was an attempt to raise money to buy the park a permanent stage. There’d been a folk festival the month before (which I wish I knew about) and next month they’re holding Fiesta Latina (Saturday 9/14/19 from 5-9) I could feel good about supporting such a cause. Music and art are a wonderful way to vitalize a community.
I wandered around looking at the vendors for as long as I could muster, said a happy hello to them, but really… there was one guy signing people up for a raffle, the beer guy, and two craft vendors. The food trucks were still amiss. I felt bad for the two crafters, this was the saddest turn out for such a thing I had ever seen. Obviously this meant I needed to shower one with praise for her art (which was actually nice, mind you!) and stop to get a Henna tattoo from the other. I’d always liked the idea of letting someone doodle on my skin… I mean this isn’t quite as involved as checking “volunteer sorry carcass to be full body painted” off my bucket list but it was close enough. Did you know Henna smells really weird? It smells like a head shop. I wasn’t real fond of it and kept smelling myself the rest of the day. SIGH. I did however listen intently to the care instructions – should last 24 hours before starting to fleck off leaving a stain. Don’t bash it against things. That last instruction may have been too much for me – someone who has consistently failed at being refined and dainty since birth. And yes, I saw the exasperated look the artist gave me as I then wandered off and sat on the ground in what I can only guess was the least feminine manner possible. Shockingly I did not smudge it in the grass! I did however pick it all off later that night because it was driving me nuts. Can’t win them all. TO NEW EXPERIENCES!
Honestly it looked better as a stain.
By now I wasn’t the only one in the audience but I was pretty damn close. A row of local older hippies sat in camping chairs up near the front. Damn! I had two of those in my car if only I had the audacity to lug them through Fitchburg and into the park. Nope, nevermind. I’m nutty enough a scene without a damn chair. I plopped my ass down a little behind them and off to the side.
AND SO THE SHOW BEGAN! First up was The Dirge Carolers. To me they had a typical steam punk sound mixed with a lot of murder ballad type lyrics. I relaxed. Gallows humor will always be a hit to me. By now some people were filing in and out and I was starting to enjoy the people watching. There were a lot of costumes, corsets, top hats, bustles, goggles, that sort of thing, and flashes of unnaturally colored hair abounded. I was home here. However this was not the feeling everyone got as I witnessed one old black dude just wandering aimlessly, staring wide-eyed at everyone with an unmistakable impression on his face, “Uh-oh, the crazy white people have taken over the park again.” He wasn’t wrong.
I was sitting directly in the sun which was glaring in my eyes bad. I couldn’t see a damn thing but I knew the stage was probably populated by oddly adorned individuals – how? Well by the amount of amateur photographers who seemed to be floating around taking snaps with great glee – captive bizarre human subjects!! I’ll admit, I had thought about doing the same but I didn’t bring my camera, just my phone. One particular photographer was college aged, seemed to think a lot about each capture. She kept circling me, taking photos of everything around me. And then she worked up the nerve to take a photo of me, just me. There was NO WAY she could hide this so I just looked up from my reclined position on the grass and smiled broadly. Sorry. Better luck next time getting a natural shot of me. She seemed embarrassed. I just laughed and nodded.
As the band continued to play the most Fitchburg-y thing happened. A train rumbled through right behind the stage completely blocking out all music for a good three minutes or so as it dragged car after car after car behind it. I thought it was a terrific piece of ambiance for a steampunk festival! The band played on like they were on the goddamn Titanic. That’s dedication there. They eventually left off with some song from a B-rated horror movie they wrote it for, sullenly leaving the stage with this odd lamentation, “Sorry, no Zombie Llama today.” Though I’d never heard of this band I suddenly wanted to hear Zombie Llama.
The first intermission was fun. The park was still pretty quiet. There were people around but it seemed like they were just here for the food truck (ouch.) I considered getting up and buying myself a nice shwarma but I’d been struggling with bad nausea all week and wasn’t really hungry. Maybe in a bit. In the meantime I was being kept well entertained by a human blockhead running around with a long nail and power drill – an act I have seen many times before but this one was way more fun because the audience he was playing to – those nice old hippie ladies- were WELL GROSSED OUT, turning their heads in abject horror and audibly gagging. Sorry bud, it’s just not your day. He wandered off a smidge sullen.
Once everyone settled back down with their assorted dinners the second band went up to bat. They were the Busted Jug Band a strange assortment of heavily costumed, utterly bizarre, peoples carrying rubber chickens. And some instruments…. which were very… DIY… They also introduced every one of the members, not by name, but by aggressively odd nicknames which I am not entirely certain weren’t made up on the spot. My favorite was Root Boy which just… brings up SO MANY QUESTIONS. Like what kind of root? And whhhy? Do you aspire to be a turnip? Because you’re giving me a root vegetable vibe. Even better one of the other band members was wearing translucent angel wings… which during the last intermission freaked me the hell out because all I could see through a halo of sun glare was a top-hatted silhouette and angel wings. For a second I thought I might have died. No such luck.
But anyway, the music from this band was… different for sure! And perhaps a bit familiar? I think I may have seen them before… This had a much more silly feel to it. No one up there was taking their life even the tiniest bit seriously. And of course that intense whimsy was all the more adorable to me. I was pretty happy on my little patch of grass though my knees and back weren’t so much. I contemplated lying on the ground and staring at the sky for a while. I could always tell people walking by I was on acid and watching the pretty clouds (there were no clouds) as I knew in this crowd that’d be a perfectly acceptable thing to say… I held it together.
By the time the second band finished up I was just really loving the vibe of everyone here. The old hippies were randomly getting up, wandering, and dancing, and hugging each other – I’m not going to lie, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were on acid. They were warm and lovely bunch. Most of the lookee-loos had wandered off but more and more steam-punky looking people were showing up and I’ll be damned if that old black dude didn’t pull up a chair behind me with his daughter and her friends. Shout out to all the cool dads out there who don’t get their kids hobbies at all but still support them! I can’t tell you how much I respect that. His daughter and her friends were in the maybe 12-14 age range. She was sporting a dark purple mohawk and was giving me some strong Aspie vibes but I couldn’t be happier with that. Be your weird self. She stuttered to me that she liked my hair. I told her I liked hers too and then she blurted out, “But it BURNS!” What? “Bleaching it! It burns so bad!” Ooooh, I don’t think you’re supposed to keep it in that long… “TWO HOURS! AND I CAN’T HAVE MY NAILS DONE EITHER!” Why? She held up her nails, two well done fake nails still remaining with all the others hacked the hell off. I grok that. I held up my own in solidarity and laughed. She asked if I liked music. I said all kinds and asked what she liked listening to. She listed a bunch of 90’s bands and I suddenly felt really old. I felt only somewhat better when I recognized the one modern band she did mention – Panic at the Disco – but if I am brutally honest I only have heard the name in passing. I haven’t the foggiest idea what they sing.
Meanwhile as this intermission dragged on the human block head came out with fire. Ah, fire eating. How dual purpose. But he wasn’t having a great time with it. No one here seemed impressed, the kids were vocally not entertained, and eventually when he couldn’t get his last trick to go right he gave this exasperated expression and wandered off, leaving the stage to a chick who worked at the local eatery across the street. Her fire came attached to hula hoops and she wasn’t fucking around. I was actually quite impressed! We’d see her intermittently for the rest of the night doing different acts – all with various things in flames. It was probably at this time one of the girls wandered off and cornered the blockhead/fire eater and somehow elicited his entire life story from him. I got to hear all about it a few minutes later and had to struggle really hard not to laugh. I’m not eavesdropping, no siree.
The last band up was the one I came for: Walter Sickert and the Army of Broken Toys. They were having some issues setting up with unwanted feedback loops and were taking awhile. I had already seen them perform two or three times before – never thought I’d see them again. That last time I went they didn’t come on stage until the establishment was nearly closed. The pamphlet said they were unpredictable and I had heard rumors that they were hard to work with because of these issues but even with all that they have to be one of the best experiences of my life. They really truly believe that art, love, and music can cure all the world’s ills and their audience is so vibrant, creative, and accepting that in each of those instances I got the hugest contact high just from all the warm fuzzies in the air. That’s what I came for! That and the music. This band… raw fucking talent. And this was obvious when they finally got to singing and the whole audience which had been fidgety and complaining behind me just went, “WOW!” And the grumpy old dad? “I guess this WAS worth waiting for them to set up!”
It had started with sweet sad violin music, not a note out of place, that lulled the audience before walloping them over the head with strong passionate vocals and more traditional instruments. Absolutely amazing. And some of the band members had young children whose birthday it was so they all got up on the stage and danced in a cloud of bubbles as a few songs were dedicated to them. That was certainly different than the body positive burlesque dancers and drag kings I was used to surrounding this act but it was so…. sweet. And seemed so right, all at the same time. Maybe with time everyone grows up – but the smartest among us clutch tightly to the passion and whimsy that brought us this far. I was overjoyed to get one short video of the madness, one of my favorite songs – a cover of I am Sam Hall (Best. Version. Ever.) which I will post below. As the music came to an end I slinked silently back into the night where I found comfort in the darkness and drove quietly home, a smile on my face.
So today I was supposed to go to a couple farms to take photos of horses and livestock but it rained all day, everywhere. Still after having a migraine for three days and being unable to move or look into any kind of light, I was crawling out of my skin to go somewhere. I thought it might be fun to re-visit Trap Falls in Ashby, this time with props. I thought with it being raining no one would be there to witness my… creative outburst.
I was wrong. Apparently it wasn’t raining hard enough. I drove by Trap Falls three times, circling it like a vulture over the course of an hour while exploring the local roads near it, and there were people there each time. In fact one of them I think was there with each drive by, staring at my recognizable car and wondering what was wrong with me. Oh nothing, I just didn’t have the gumption to throw a gargoyle under my arm and head into the woods with the grin of a Cheshire cat. I’m eccentric but not that ballsy. Yet.
Still I found a little bridge just across the Townsend town line which wasn’t that far up the road. It had a turn off with some picnic tables so I figured why not check it out. What I found was so much more perfect than taking my gargoyle for a walk in front of a waterfall. It was a stone bridge that looked so castle-y I nearly bounced with the idea of whimsy. Today I had come prepared, not just with my garden statue, but with a whole knapsack full of totally random objects I kidnapped from the house. My intention today wasn’t so much to explore as it was to play. I don’t know what I am doing with my whimsy shots just yet but I am keeping them under my belt, just in case I need them for something, and in the meantime I am really enjoying taking them!
If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!
