Dancing At The Farm

We sat in a wide circle in Kathleen’s backyard with so much space between us sometimes we couldn’t hear each other.  There were eight of us there, all the regulars from our Bellydancing class.

We hadn’t seen each other since March and now we sat, ate a potluck dinner and talked for three hours.  At some point, our conversation came around to dancing again.  The Senior Center where the Bennington Beledi Tribal Bellydancers met on Thursday nights for almost 20 years is not reopening anytime soon.

Julz told us about some of the possible places we might be able to meet, but they wouldn’t open up until the fall.  Then she talked about the difficulties of meeting outside.  If there were neighbors, there would always be an audience she said, and we needed enough space for all of us.

That’s when I said we could dance at the farm.  “We have no neighbors and plenty of space,” I told them. When Julz suggested I check with Jon and get back to them, I laughed.  “Are you kidding, he’d be thrilled to have us all there.”

Not only did Jon love the idea he wanted to feed everyone too.

So next week we’ll be dancing again for the first time in more than three months.  Julz cautioned us not to wear a very long skirt or we’d get grass stains on it.  It will be hot and the ground won’t be easy on our feet.  I know I’ll be out of shape from only dancing a half hour or so every week.

And I can hardly wait.