Storytelling Festival

It was ten years ago that I first visited the small, energetic and picturesque town of Jonesborough. My mother was coming down for the Storytelling Festival and wanted the kids and I to meet her here. It was a magical, amazing weekend filled with stories and laughter and connections and tired legs (have I mentioned that Jonesborough is very hilly?) from hiking to all the different tents filled with diverse stories that made us laugh and cry and see ourselves in our fellow humans.

I fell in love with this little town, nestled up against the rolling Appalachian mountains. My Mum died seven years ago, we moved here four years ago. I couldn't have predicted any part of the journey to Jonesborough but looking back it was always meant to be a part of my life. That's how some things are.

Next weekend is the 2009 Storytelling Festival. We're watching tents pop up all over town right now, more and more visitors show up every day. Our tiny town becomes overpopulated for those few days.

Sierra wanted to go walking in the rain today, so we did. As we walked in the rain, I remembered sunnier days and many firsts in my little town; Jared sound asleep on the sidewalk in front of The Bistro as we waited for a seat, hiking the hills with my laughing Mum, being mesmerized by the spells a storyteller can weave and that feeling of driving through this town and sighing like my soul had found it's home. It had.




We stopped by the International Storytelling Center which was just breaking ground when we first came here. There was only the funding and the idea, no building yet.
It has become the heart of storytelling for the world.



A wet stop to the brick my Mum purchased in support of the storytelling center when we were all here for the festival. Thanks Mum, for bringing me here and sharing your passion for a well-told story. The legacy lives.....