Southern Fiction Author, Infrequent Blogger & Retired Clown

Then the walls of my town,
they come crumbling down

Then the walls of my town, <br>they come crumbling down

Like the city that nurtured my greed and my pride,
I stretched my arms into the sky
I cry Babel! Babel! Look at me now
Then the walls of my town, they come crumbling down

– Mumford & Sons “Babel”

What happened in my tiny, humble little hometown last weekend verges on the indescribable.

The Gentlemen of the Road music festival (with ticket sales over 25,000) descended on downtown St. Augustine for two days of great music, great food, and a little chaos.

Saturday night, I stood in the midst of a packed crowd in an open field, the ground beneath my feet pulsating with every beat of a Mumford & Sons song — feeling equal parts euphoria, pride, and utter exhaustion (it was a long day of walking, standing in the field beneath the steamy sun, and being completely surrounded by people, which is NOT one of my favorite things).

It was fantastic and my town did a phenomenal job showing our Southern hospitality and incredible history to our guests, including the bands in town for the event.

I still haven’t gotten my voice back and I think my brain has yet to actually process the whole thing, so I’m going to let some photos and video tell you the rest of the story.


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