Well there’s loads of reasons why I love Olympia. But the whacky, earthy, green spirit of the people in this small town/city when it hits the streets is a large part of it. And last weekend’s Arts Walk showcased this spirit big time. After a four year hiatus during the pandemic the Procession of the Species returned.
I participated in the ways I could, showing a painting in an art show, making a paper mache luminary, and even reading an eco poem of mine in another Arts Walk event titled “Habitat”,led by our poet laureate Kathleen Byrd. I waved my luminary from the sidelines Friday night while watching the Luminary Procession and bundled up for the Procession of the Species the next afternoon.
Years ago I might have tried to capture these events in live sketches, but I satisfy my reportage urges now by doing composite sketches after the fact.
Small wonder that the salmon loomed larger than most of the other species in the parade. We are living after all in the home of the Salmon People, on the banks of the Sound and rivers of the Salish tribal peoples. The parade was host to orcas and kelp forest dancers and numerous other sea themed creatures and environs represented.
Friday night the skies were clear and crowds were out for the Luminary procession. Here’s a peak to give you an idea.
The next afternoon I wandered around the area where the Procession was setting up. A good part of the downtown streets were closed to traffic. I knew that it required an army of people to move the creatures and all their gear from the Armory workshop to the streets, and the weather was cold and skies threatening. But here in Olympia nothing seems to get cancelled or even much bothered by the frequent wet weather. So the ladies in their sunflower dresses and hats had big enthusiastic smiles and no goosebumps in their summer attire, while I stood on the sidelines in layers of warmth and rain protection.
I’m sure there were people who stayed home, but it seemed like the whole town was there, so the parade route snaked back and forth through town and down to the water.
Everywhere here flows down to the water, which is where the parade was headed. By the time the last of the parade made its way across the starting line, the rain was getting cranked up and I was on my way home for dinner. . . and thinking, with gratitude, about those hardy souls who had such joy in their faces as I imagined the work of herding all those soggy artwork species back to the armory before their dinner.
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