I woke up before 7 AM, feeling extremely grungy. Even though it was a very cold morning, I needed to take a shower. I was the only one there when I scooted over to the DART showers a little before 7:30 AM. By the way, these showers are housed on an open-air wooden platform, so weather IS a consideration. But I knew from my previous shower on Tuesday that the water temperature was nice and warm if I could make it through the undressing part without freezing my tusch. It was definitely a test of fortitude--both getting in and getting out--but the shower itself was worth it.

I sat with a group of bundled-up womyn in front of the DART firepit, warming myself before going off to breakfast. After enjoying granola with yogurt and blueberries, I started off toward the Meditation Circle in the workshop area beyond Triangle. I wanted to attend the remembrance celebration of Joy Rosenblatt who had died in April. I'd first met Joy either at my first Michigan festival in 1994 or my first National Women's Music Festival in 1995; I couldn't remember which. Since that time I'd seen her at almost every festival, both here in Michigan and in Indiana. Joy was at the heart of womyn's music and womyn's consciousness in her hometown of Chicago and always helped Cedar at her Willow Moon crafts booth at Michigan and National. Five years ago she'd met the love of her life and she and Donna had gotten married in Ontario a few months before Joy died. We went around the circle and remembered her in stories and song (thank you, dear Lucie Blue Tremblay). There were LOTS of stories to be told about this womon who in so many ways was larger than life. As people spoke, I kept seeing Joy in the tall Grandmother Oak across from me. There was a mix of tears and laughter, and truthful sharings about the delights and challenges that Joy brought into people's lives. It felt just right.

After we'd completed Joy's remembrance celebration, I scooted next door to Workshop Area #15 where Colleen and Linda were facilitating Singing in Sacred Circle. As had been true all week, I was nourished and enlivened by the songs and the heartfelt connections we womyn made with each other and with the Sacred in all of life. My deepest gratitude to Coco, Linda and all the womyn, children and babies who were part of our circle throughout the week.

At noon I scooted back to DART Downtown, stopping on the way to take pictures of the lively goings-on around Triangle. And now it was time to prepare for the Pink Parade. All week I'd had my eye on the beautiful pink dress that has hung as decoration in the DART office for years. What I didn't know was that the zipper was broken. But that just gave us a new use for duct tape! When I scooted into the Community Center at 1 PM, Hailey and two of her friends were dressed up and ready to go. But they told me we'd missed all the other pink-haired womyn who had planned to join our parade because the Redheads Parade that I'd said we were to join, had already happened at noon. So the 1st Annual Pink Parade had four--and later five--participants, but, hey, you've got to start somewhere!

At 2:30 PM, I was able to go hear a scene from Carolyn Gage's new play being read by two festi-goers. For decades, Carolyn has been the foremost lesbian feminist playwrite, and we'd been fortunate this year to have her facilitate a weeklong Monologue and Scene Performance intensive workshop here at Michigan. I'd been proud of my friend Judy Drylie, a rather shy individual, for having taken Carolyn's workshop. She'd performed her scene at 1 PM but because I'd had to be at the Community Center at that time, I'd had to miss it. So I was grateful to make it to this reading.

After that, I scooted around taking pictures. I had to work pretty hard to catch up with the Chocolate Pudding Parade, but it was more than worth it. They looked lovely and smelled yummy! Saturday was certainly the day of parades: the Redheads, the Pinks, the Chocolate Pudding womyn, and the parade-of-all-parades, the Gaia Girls Parade. All week long many girls on the Land attended day camp at the Gaia Girls Camp. There they played, made crafts, sang, danced, learned things, and prepared for their big parade on Saturday. Like all of us, the girls love to dress up and strut their stuff. And that parade is not just for little girls; it's for big girls too. Womyn who had been in the bellydancing workshops, stiltwalking womyn who had been in the Womyn Walking Tall workshops all week, and finally the always-glorious Festival Quilt. This quilt is worked on all year by staff and volunteers, finished by festi-goers during the week, and raffled off at the Night Stage on Saturday. This year's design was based on drawings done by girls in last year's Gaia Girls Camp and was especially touching.

When I arrived at the Night Stage field at 7:30 PM, it was already buzzing. Womyn and children were getting settled in their beach chairs and on their blankets. A large group of womyn were dancing and drumming around the big tree behind the lights/sound tower. Lori Fithian, a wonderful drummer I know from Ann Arbor, and her partner Carol have been bringing pails, drums, rattles and all manner of percussion instruments out to the Night Stage field for years. Lori is one of the most community-spirited individuals I know and facilitates drum jams that include everyone. The womyn at Michigan LOVE these pre-concert jams, as you can tell from the pictures. There were also a few couples dancing to the pre-concert taped music coming out of the huge speakers beside the stage. And the Deaf/HOH womyn were posing for a photo op that I took advantage of too.

The performances on Saturday night were such that I rarely sat down. Judith Castleberry's band, JUCA, had LOTS of folks up on their feet, and later, Laura Love, did the same. Kate Clinton, the political/social conscious comic, performed as well, and had me howling with her on-target humorous takes on Bush and his crowd. The night was clear and cold with a blanket of stars so dense you couldn't believe you never saw them like this in the city. Where do they go?

After the Night Stage, it felt good to sit around our blazing DART firepit, warm our toes and sing. I was in bed by 12:30 AM.

I woke up late, unfortunately missing the last scrambled eggs breakfast of Fest 2004. But I knew my body was telling me it needed more sleep, so I respected its needs. Although the night had been cold, the morning was sunny and already getting warm. It was going to be a beautiful day. I put on my favorite outfit--purple beaded sleeveless top and lavender pleated swirly skirt, both from India--and decided to leave my shoes behind. Sunday was definitely the day to dance barefoot! I scooted down the path through the forest, delighting in the play of sun through the towering green trees and feathery ferns. At the entrance to the Acoustic Stage I saw the stiltwalkers--Womyn Walking Tall--standing around, so I knew they would be performing with either the Drumsong Orchestra or the One World Inspirational Choir.

Sunday is special on the Land. It is the day that womyn who have sung and/or drummed together all week have the opportunity to share their gifts with the larger community. Both Ubaka Hill (Drumsong Orchestra) and Aleah Long (the One World Inspirational Choir) are committed to the empowerment of womyn through drumming and song. And both of them, as womyn of Spirit themselves, take these musical forms to a deep and meaningful level. For womyn like me, who have no interest in or resonance with organized religion, what happens on Sunday at Festival is true "church."

I stood and danced to Drumsong Orchestra--as did hundreds of my sisters--and meditated to One World Inspirational Choir. While others danced and sang along, I sat in silence with my eyes closed , my bare feet planted in the earth, and my heart on the wing. It was as close to a mystic state as I've experienced in years. And I have Aleah, Esther Blue on keyboards, and all the womyn of the choir to thank.

Immediately after the performances, womyn started preparing the Acoustic Stage grove for the Healing Circle. They thoughtfully moved it closer to the shuttle stop, in an effort to make it easier for DART womyn to attend. For the first time in years, I chose to lie down in the center of the circle to be healed. What happened there defies description. The heat of hands healed me. The pulse of the drumbeat healed me. Womyn's voices in song healed me. The shake of rattles healed me. But mainly, the force of love healed me. To all of you who were there in body, spirit and heart, I offer my gratitude.

After doing what I could to add to the healing with song and energetic intentions, I scooted back up through the forest to the central part of the Land. I knew there was what promised to be a terrific "Circus Fever!" event with LAVA and Wise Fool New Mexico at the Day Stage, but I didn't feel capable of shifting gears. What had had happened down at the Acoustic Stage had thrown me into a deep place of peace within myself, and I needed to reverence that. Instead, I had a lovely visit with my dear friends in the DART office (and snacked on their salty treats), and went off to take my final two pictures--one of the community that always formed around Melinda's tent, and finally, of my friend Wondella who was quietly taking up the carpeting at the DART Workshop Tent. I then began to pack my clothes, many of which were still damp from those early-in-the-week rainy days and nights. I hoped to get started for home tomorrow at a reasonable hour. Last year I'd been one of the last campers off the Land and had not gotten home to Detroit until early evening; I didn't want to do that again.

Soon it was time for dinner. Thanks to Sooz, one of my dear friends from home, I'd had a peanut butter and honey sandwich after having been in the center of the Healing Circle, but now I was ready for a nice hot meal. Sunday is Savory Casserole, one of my favorites. Although many womyn had to leave the Land on Sunday to get home for work on Monday, there were still lots of us in the kitchen area eating dinner. I sat with two womyn who had been to almost every one of the 29 Fests and enjoyed hearing their stories. On the way back to DART, I stopped to talk with Monika, our sister from Poland. She was trying to process all that had entered her world since she'd arrived on the Land last Monday, and need a listening ear. By the way, one of my few regrets from Fest is that I didn't get a photo of this wonderful womon. Hope I'll get a chance in 2005.

I don't know where the time went but before I knew it, it was 8 PM, the time I was supposed to meet Colleen, Linda and the Singing In Sacred Circle womyn down at the Acoustic Stage. We'd been asked to sing one of our chants--"We Are the Ones We've Been Waiting For"--while Falcon River and the torchbearers walked to the stage for the Candlelight Concert at 9 PM. As the night took hold, womyn filled the Acoustic Stage grove, the performers filed onto the candlelit stage in silence, and we began to sing.

The Sunday night Candlelight Concert is a perfect way to bring festival week to a close. Each performer who is still on the Land--and others who might not have performed onstage this year but have gifts to share--stand up and sing, drum, play their instrument, perform spoken word and/or dance. Each sharing is met by an audible sigh rather than applause. At the conclusion of this year's concert, the Dianic Priestess, Ruth Barrett, and a womon of First Nations heritage "opened the circle" by calling to the Four Directions and offering prayers for our safe return home. Immediately following that, we womyn of the Sacred Circle spontaneously began to sing "You Are the Ones We've Been Waiting For." Many voices joined us.

Instead of leaving the grove, our circle stayed and sang together for timeless time. With our faces illuminated by candles, we were touched by magic. And the stars twinkled overhead.

Finally Deanna--my dear friend from home who had let me use her camera--and I left the circle and walk/scooted up the forest path toward the August Night Cafe where we could already hear the dance music at full volume. I soon lost Deanna, danced with Sam, and then danced by myself--more like with EVERYONE--for awhile, but soon felt the call of my bed. It was a VERY cold night, and even though I'd put on shoes and bundled up before going down to the Candlelight Concert, my feet felt like icicles. I stopped by the DART firepit to try to warm up and then went off to bed.

I was up by 7:30 AM, and with DART worker Stephanie's invaluable help, on Doris the shuttle, headed for the Front Gate with all my gear by 11:30 AM. I had my cold feet to thank for that. Sunday night had been the coldest night I'd ever experienced at Fest--36 degrees F. according to a festi-goer's thermometer--and I'd been awakened by my frigid feet off and on throughout the night. Home with its walls, floors, ceilings and windows was looking mighty good!

My festi-sisters have expressed interest in how Eddie reacted to my pink hair. And by Monday I also had a purple naked womon dancing on my left cheek (thanks, dear bodypainter Jayne). After 38 years together, this amazing man is pretty good at accepting the unusual. I pulled into his office parking lot about 5:30 PM, and he came out with a huge grin on his face. When I puckered up my lips for a kiss, he said, "So where's the mouth?!?" Later that evening he looked over at my hair and said, "I like it. It's really quite conservative."

Yes, MichFest 2004 will become part of our festival iconography, as in: "Remember the year we practically froze every night and started off with rain, rain, rain?" But those of us who stuck it out discovered--if we didn't know already--that this annual global womyn's village doesn't need clear, sunny skies or mild temperatures to be a success. In fact, challenges bring us together in ways that perfection will never do. What I will remember from Festival 2004 is how loving and gentle-spirited womyn can be when their feet are cold, their clothes wet and their workshops moved hither and yon. I'll remember there being no complaints and very few people leaving when rains poured down during performances at the Day, Acoustic and Night Stages. I will always see these hardy womyn simply donning their rain ponchos and putting up their umbrellas without missing a minute of the performance. I'm sure the performers won't forget it either.