I met a new scotch at the festival, and tasted my beloved Talisker Storm again for the first time in too long. It's intriguing how things can seem different with the passage of time. Most things change continually, of course, but even those things that don't - they generally seem to have shifted when we are away from them for enough moments. Because each moment generally alters us, if only in slight, imperceptible ways. Add enough of them to the mix, and our perspective may become completely different. The first night I arrived just in time to set up my tent before sunset. The young moon was starting her decline for the evening as I collected my things to head down to the gathering. I took a moment to pour myself a dram of Talisker Storm - he who I had missed. I opened the bottle slowly and approached him shyly, at first. It had been a long time, and I was afraid of what might have changed between us. His nose seemed unfamiliar at first pass, and within my chest apprehension swirled together with the excitement of reunion. His taste on my lips seemed different than I remembered, but within a few sips the warmth of his character and spice in his personality made me remember...all of the things I fell in love with were still there, and I was comforted by his presence once again.
I introduced him to folks who hadn't met him as I passed by groups of friends here and there. Most were impressed. The first night of festival is usually sparse, and it generally ends up being fairly low key. This seemed to be a fairly typical evening in that regard, and then suddenly the skies opened up with thunder and lightning, pouring rain all over the campground in a blessing fitting the season. All of the folks there gathered under the main tent and we felt the magic of community fill up the night as food and drink were passed around, and laughter and stories were shared. The storm calmed, but the rain kept to a steady fall, encircling the group of friends who also, for the most part, hadn't seen each other in too long.
The rest of the weekend ended up being dry, hot, and beautiful. The nights cooled down just enough to allow everyone to enjoy the bonfire - whether dancing, drumming, or just being there near the pulsing flames. On the last night, we had the pleasure of Kindred Crow's performance as the main headliner. Beautiful voices and a variety of instruments created an alchemy of sound that was both energized and mysterious - a perfect accompaniment to the fire and mood of the evening. Here is their song, Wild Green Magick:
A friend and fellow Scotch lover brought a bottle of a new one he had for me to meet. Glenkinchie 12 year. I hadn't heard of him, and we weren't sure where in Scotland he was from. It turns out he's one of the few remaining lads from the lowlands. The only other I had met from that region was Auchentoshen, but that was a long time ago. We only had a short conversation, as there was much to be distracted by, but I found him warm, strong, and sweet. His nose had a light floral sense to it, and the flavors seemed complex to me. I tasted notes of lemon and vanilla, and was quite impressed by this lad, despite the lack of peat that I usually look for. He had a deep spice to his character and I felt he could truly hold his own.
It was lovely to meet this Glen, and I'd like to have another conversation with him again one day, but Storm was there at this festival, and it had been so long... I wanted the fire of Beltane to fill all of my senses -
to see the flames with my eyes, in all their magical colors;
to hear the crackle and hiss, like music to my ears;
to feel the heat, in waves upon my skin;
to smell the smoke and ash, to my nose, from the fire and from the scotch;
and finally to savor the taste upon my tongue - the particular flavor of fire, that with Talisker Storm, always comes.
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