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Hopedale 2012
Jan. 28th, 2012 04:39 pmGoing to Hopedale for writers’ retreat this year was akin to Persephone descending to the underworld. Once off the interstate headed toward Chalmette, the derelict Six Flags amusement park provided a stark reminder of Hurricane Katrina’s devastation. On Paris Road, the western sky was ablaze with the red afterglow of sunset, and the ponds next to the road retained a blue color, deepening to navy. Ubiquitous street lights disappeared further toward the fishing camp. Profound darkness on either side of the road kept me focused on driving. The stars were plentiful in the sky, and the night air was pleasantly cool against my skin.
Even though I worked all day and left at what I considered to be late, I was the third person to arrive. When we had all gathered, we drank, feasted and enjoyed ourselves with readings and raucous laughter. Peauxdunque is a branch of my family, the same as the witches are my family, and I am fortunate to have both glorious groups in my life.
The trip back this afternoon was enlightening. A stand of dead trees along Hopedale Highway made me wonder what they looked like in life and what killed them so suddenly, producing bare branches jutting fruitlessly into the sky. It’s so quiet and peaceful out there.
Even though I worked all day and left at what I considered to be late, I was the third person to arrive. When we had all gathered, we drank, feasted and enjoyed ourselves with readings and raucous laughter. Peauxdunque is a branch of my family, the same as the witches are my family, and I am fortunate to have both glorious groups in my life.
The trip back this afternoon was enlightening. A stand of dead trees along Hopedale Highway made me wonder what they looked like in life and what killed them so suddenly, producing bare branches jutting fruitlessly into the sky. It’s so quiet and peaceful out there.
