I had meant to finish and publish this post weeks ago,
but like many things I start with good intentions, it ended up sitting half
written until I finally remembered to come back to it. The day itself was
meaningful enough that I did not want to leave the writing unfinished, so I
returned to it and decided it was time to give the story the attention it
deserved.
I packed the car the way I usually do for events, with a mix of intention and the kind of mild disorder that seems to follow me no matter how early I start. The orchid research boards went in first, then the Lego orchids, then the plants I planned to bring for the swap. My day basket followed, full of snacks, a notebook, business cards, and a few things I probably didn’t need but tossed in anyway. I added my folding chair and a cooler with ice, fruit, and drinks, since the forecast promised heat and I knew I’d be talking for a good part of the day. I felt that familiar combination of nerves and readiness that shows up whenever I’m about to share something new.
Curley Cross Tavern hadn’t originally been on my schedule. I
had planned to stay home and rest, and the event itself didn’t have a theme
that matched my display, so I wasn’t sure it made sense to bring the project at
all. But after talking with a few people who were genuinely interested in the
research, I reconsidered. Their encouragement made the decision easier. The
display was finished, I didn’t have anything else planned, and it felt like the
right moment to bring the project out for the SCA populace. So, on May 30th, I
backed out of the driveway into the morning heat that North Carolina likes to
deliver long before summer officially arrives. Apex isn’t far, but the drive
felt slower than usual with the sun already bright and the air heavy enough to
make the day feel longer before it even started.
I meant to arrive before eleven, but a restless night and a
morning spent gathering last‑minute items put me behind. When I reached the
site, I pulled off to the side near the door so I could unload without making
long trips across the parking lot. The place was already busy, with cars
filling the available spaces and people moving in and out of the building with
that familiar event‑day rhythm. I must have arrived right at the rush, because
the line for gate stretched nearly to the door. I decided to wait on signing in
and focused on getting everything inside first so I could set up the display
before worrying about parking. Once
everything was arranged the way I wanted, I went back out to park properly. By
the time I returned, the line at gate had dwindled to just a few people. The
building had that steady hum events tend to have with people greeting friends,
tables already claimed for games, a cluster of folks working on embroidery and
other fiber arts, and the sound of feast prep coming from the kitchen. It felt
familiar in a way I hadn’t realized I missed.
Getting to events over the past year hasn’t always been
simple. Some days the mental load of regular life makes even small plans feel
heavier than they should, and I don’t always have the energy to push through
it. Things are improving, but I still hesitate sometimes. Even so, I’ve learned
that when I do make it out the door, I’m usually glad I did. Being around
people and having something to focus on helps more than I remember until I’m
already there.
I went back to my table and straightened a few things,
mostly out of habit. Nothing needed fixing, but it gave my hands something to
do. I didn’t stay long before I started seeing friends I hadn’t talked to in a
while. We caught up, and I talked a bit about the display and what I’d been
working on. After that, I wandered around the hall and eventually stepped
outside to look through the merchant booths. I made my rounds, chatted with a
few dear friends, and enjoyed the chance to be out in the air for a bit. Eventually I headed back inside. When I
walked into the hall again, I noticed a small group gathered around my display.
They were reading through my display and taking their time with them. It caught
me off guard for a moment, but in a good way. I slowed my pace as I approached,
giving them space to look while I tried to read their reactions from a
distance.
When I reached the table, one of them turned and asked a
question about the section on cultivation practices. That opened the door for a
longer conversation, and soon I was answering questions about the research
process, the period sources, and how I organized the information. The group was
engaged in a way that felt genuine, and it helped settle the last bit of
nervousness I had carried in with me. More people drifted over as we talked,
and before long I found myself explaining the display several times in a row as
new faces joined in; it was the kind of interaction that reminded me why I
enjoy sharing research in the first place. People were curious, they asked
thoughtful questions, and they seemed genuinely interested in the connections
between orchids and the broader cultural context.
At one point someone asked about the Lego orchids, which
always seems to happen. They serve as a lighthearted contrast to the research
board, and they give people something familiar to latch onto before diving into
the historical material. A few people mentioned they had orchids at home and
wanted to compare their own experiences with what I had found in the sources.
Those conversations were easy and comfortable, and they helped keep the day
moving at a pace that felt right. I stayed near the display for a while as
people continued to come and go. Some stopped only briefly, others stayed
longer, and a few returned later in the afternoon to ask follow‑up questions.
The steady interest made the hours pass quickly; I had expected to spend more
time wandering around the site, but I found myself anchored to the table,
happily answering questions and talking about orchids. It was clear that bringing the display had
been the right decision.
After a while I stepped away long enough to figure out where
the plant swap was supposed to be. It was not an active swap with people
gathered around a table, so I had kept the orchids tucked safely behind my
display until I knew where they were meant to go. Once I found the spot outside
where the other plants had been placed, I carried mine out and set them on the
picnic table so they were easy to see. I
ended up staying out there for quite some time. It wasn't long before people
wandered over and sat with me talking about orchids. We compared notes on our
collections, traded stories about plants that had surprised us, and talked
through different care practices. Several people asked questions about how to
take better care of the orchids they already had at home, and I did my best to
give practical advice without overwhelming anyone. It turned into the kind of
conversation that happens easily when people already care about the same thing
and are simply glad to talk about it.
A few people were curious about the research itself and
wanted to know how the historical material connected to the orchids we grow
today. I talked through the parts that made sense in that setting and answered
questions as they came up. It was an easier way to share the project that way,
and I appreciated having the chance to explain pieces of it without the
structure of the display itself. By the time I went back inside to the air
conditioning, I had made a few new friends and felt even more certain that
bringing the display had been worth the effort. The break from the heat was
welcome, because the day had been hot in a way that settled into everything.
Even with wearing my Roman garb, which is usually comfortable in warm weather,
the heat was almost unbearable. Some of the medicines I take affect how well I
handle the heat, so I had been careful all afternoon to drink water and step
inside whenever I felt myself getting too warm.
I stayed through evening court, since I wanted to see
everyone recognized and enjoy the last part of the day with friends, but once
court ended, I knew I needed to call it. Feast was still ahead, and under
different circumstances I would have stayed, but the heat had taken more out of
me than I expected. I decided it was better to head out and find something cold
and refreshing instead of pushing myself to stay longer. A couple of us left
together and drove to Tropical Smoothie Cafe. The cold air inside felt like a
relief, and the first sip of a smoothie was exactly what I needed. We sat for a
while in our garb, talking about the day and sharing small details that had
stood out to each of us. It was a nice way to wind down after the long
afternoon. When we eventually parted ways, I headed home feeling tired in the
way that comes from a full day, but also content. The display had done what I
hoped it would do, the conversations had been meaningful, and the decision to
attend had been the right one.
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