Over The Rainbow

Where peaceable wanderers gather to hug each other, wear feathers, dance all night and soothe the soul

The big conga drums stopped rumbling at about 4:20 a.m. on July 4, with five or six hard hand cracks, then a great, cavernous quiet. A visitor, sweaty in a winter sleeping bag, half-woke in his tent, wadded what turned out to be a loaf of six-grain bread under his head as a pillow and eased back to sleep. As he did, the drums started again, more softly: chunka-chunka-CHUNKA-chunka. They stopped for good an hour later, just before full light.

Welcome home, as the quirky, wistful wanderers who call themselves the Rainbow People say to each other every few minutes for...

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