something wicked this way comes
Once upon a pre-pandemic era, the theater was our favorite indulgence. Every season, we'd secure tickets many months in advance for the best upcoming stage productions, usually including a touring Broadway show. We laughed ourselves to tears throughout Mamma Mia! and fell wholly under the enchantment of Beauty and the Beast. We attended countless familiar classics, contemporary sensations, comedy, and music concerts. One December evening, we were voluntarily swept off our feet and over the rainbow to a land of munchkins, flying monkeys, and the great and powerful Wizard of Oz, but even the wizard himself couldn't--at least in theatrical terms--grant our heart's other true desire: to also see the Broadway blockbuster Wicked.
My Maisie Moon making her merry way through a path of yellow wildflowers at the Hovander Homestead.
Season after season we waited for the show to come to our little corner of the Pacific Northwest. And it did, right about the time COVID had taken up residence as the new and formidable wicked witch of the West. Sitting shoulder to shoulder in a jam-packed theater seemed about as wise as jumping off a tower and expecting a broomstick to spare us a terrifying demise. After all, not everyone possesses the magic to defy gravity. In the interest of safeguarding our health, we passed, knowing the opportunity would probably never come again.
Then Hollywood got its hands on the script, and a movie--along with a studious green sorceress--was born. Even with their mind-blowing budgets and increasingly impressive special effects, films will never compare to the excitement and gratification of live stage performances, but that doesn't mean they don't make for enjoyable entertainment. So, this past week, we finally saw Wicked, and, while our television viewing is hardly cause for a brand new blog post, a nine-day vacation in which we indulged in two long-anticipated destinations seems worthy of remembrance. First, we shared a marvelous evening in Oz, then we journeyed through our own Emerald City to hike the grounds of the incomparable Hovander Homestead, creating this poster to commemorate both--an adorable souvenir of vacation time well spent. As you can plainly see, we traveled in good company, taking along our (not-so-little) little dog too.
Should you find this all--as Glinda would say--in any way confusifying, just remember: be it bricks or baby blooms, something truly magical and thrillifying always awaits when you dare to follow the yellow-paved road.
