Leaving one’s wallet behind would be the greatest shame at Roots N Blues. Various vendors, booths and tents line the grassy plains of Steven’s Lake as the smell of bacon, fries and kettle corn waft in the breeze. Every step brings a new flavor, tempting one to lick the air.
The people are dressed in casual and colorful clothes. Some take selfies by the stages, jumping with disco lights and reverberating song. Some sit alone of the hay bails; observing the masses amble by with tacos and ribbon fries. Some place their cap on their head, lounging on their quilt, belly uniformly rising and falling. Some, however, spend the evening window shopping, whether it’s because their daughters refuse to leave the five dollar, original necklace collection or they see a guitar they fancy.
