Send us your tired, your infirm, your weak. . . and we will make Blue Grass!

 Weekend up at the family farm town for the 4th ever Shelbina Blue Grass Fest.

And all visits to said farm town require at least one visit to Martha's.
And the fact that nothing else we tried was open meant we ate at Martha's four times.

 Martha's will never earn any stars for it's cuisine but it does fill you up and it is local. And you can get it anyway you like as long as it is fried.

 Main St. Shelbina.

 Still some nice old houses in town.

 Okay, so. . . the reason we headed up to the farm in the first place was to catch the Blue Grass music this weekend. I figured if it was into it's fourth year it must be getting pretty good. Right?

Well, on Sat., it was suppose to kick off at ten a.m. We arrived about ten forty-five.
We weren't expecting Rolling Stone type crowds, but we were expecting more than just us two.
So we asked the tall lady in a purple t-shirt who seemed pissed and in charge, when the music was going to start. Without reply she sprinted off to where we assumed she would be inquiring of the musicians why they hadn't started yet.
She said they wouldn't be long.
We said we would come back in a little while.
We came back nearer noon time to find about the same situation.

Now this poster is how it was billed and how we were expecting it to be.
Two open stages, 10 - 5, then dinner, then more music.

This is what we got by noon time.
Now we did expect the weather, rain, to play a factor in how it would go. But not to the extent that it did.

But around noon musicians did start showing up.
One     at     a      time.

Most having trouble walking, some actually aided by a device of some kind.

 Some were very stooped and bent.

 Some arrived aided by a golf cart and walker.

It wasn't looking good for a fifth year of Blue Grass Fest.

 But slowly they did arrive.

And once they got playing there was nothing infirm about their performance.
Where bent backs delivered them, dancing fingers provided very accomplished music.

This man slowly walked over with his stool and sat down.
Hardly anything on him moved during the performance except his fingers. And boy did they move.

And most of the time you could tell they didn't care if anyone was there to watch. They were just having fun.
Much of the time they didn't even face the six of us sitting in the stand.

The music was great.

 It didn't hurt that there was Ice Cream.

 And the rain only made it easier to clean Ice Cream off of sticky hands.

 A third of the crowd.

 Old tractors.

 We even had to help hang a tarp so the band could go back on.

 Rain play.

 Riding the barrels between storms.

 Weather forced them inside after a while.
Still didn't care if they had an audience.
The most eclectic festival I have ever been to.

The fish dinner was excellent.

It never did take on a festival atmosphere.
More just a bunch of people getting together on a rainy Saturday.

 "The corn is as high, as Johnny Blings eye. . .!"

Sunday found us finding old family churches and graves.

Prairie View.

Great Grandma's side of the family.

Not related.
But what I found interesting was that this guy fought in the Civil War, fighting with single shot rifles, and lived long enough to see the First World War and the advent of airplanes in war.

 Another family church.

 Old trucks

 Ghost town.

 Finally! Berry picking at the farm.

Yum!