Just another of Lemony Snicket's genius lines composed to describe the indescribable. This season at Nimbus we celebrate the big pot of luck, fortune, and miracles that have been dished up to us, and the many moments of magic that happen within our walls.
The Nimbus miracle meatball breakdown might look something like this:
* Our fortune: the collected acts of generosity from our founders, supporters, and board members who continue to enthusiastically give of themselves.
* Our charms: the artists that work with us and share their skills, love and creative bohemian souls with all of you
* Our luck: well, who isn't lucky living in a region of such fine
Artisan spirit, rich agricultural prowess and inspirational beauty?
* Our miracle: that would be you! Our community who makes us feel that giddy kid-like joy you get from the tiny fluttering of fortunes you find in a cookie!
Join us for a journey through our camps and classes this season at Nimbus, and for NIMBASH 2012 on May 19th - our most adventurous yet!
-Jamie Graff, Director
Finding Nimbash: A traveler's tale
It was said that because the lines of our palms line up with the contour of the terrain, connecting us to it - that our presence here is valuable, and that the nimbus clouds and hum of bees will float eternal...
It was nestled in the bended arm of a river full to the brim with its hushing tones, holding us to the secret of this certain place. A tiny gem, a traveler's home, an encampment of such color and spectrum uncommon, if even existent, that it shone hues of life exotic and marked community of unique talent and joy. It was a famed farm once host to the meats of walnut, and the bursting sweet juices of pear and vine.
Upon approach, a glow that was neither dawn nor dusk did reach to us in concert with the sweet curling smoke of cooking fires. In its light's perimeter we felt the life of animals all around... Cricket and bullfrog bellies sprung with song so bold its echo bounded off nonexistent walls. Tiny bluebirds sat as bright cobalt shawls on the shoulders of fox and pheasant. Hawk, owl, and bear were drawn out with no concern along side draft horse of great mass and feathered mane, all sat happy audience in what felt as daylight warmth provided only by wick and candle.
The wagon cottages had edgings of architecture cut as pastry or doily bundled and painted so brightly, that they resembled the flowers of spring blossoming all at once. This bewitched the buzzing bees who, so surprised by this splendid bloom of color, mistook it for floribunda and drunkenly carried the imaginary weight of pollen so rich they could fly only inches from the earth.
Fine folk sat rapt in a story being told by vision or mystic, accompanied by a single fiddler whose instrument was painted in such detail that no average canvas could host. This fiddler's tune so nectar-sweet that hummingbird spun and dipped to drink from his bow. It was then that this teller of fortunes looked to us, to the lines held on palms... We had found the good fortune of this place - we had come to join artisans and creators of culture uncommon.
If you wished a journey to this land, you would find its gifts special indeed. You would know it by the nimbus cloud, it's namesake that drifts over rare landscape and farm. Where artful experiences and life's delicacies get shared and passed from heart to hand, and where community is a sacred thing. There will be no finding this place with indifference, for finding charmed people with miraculous inspiration contain only one feeling... that of wonder.
