I went to a burning man event some weeks ago; It was nothing fancy–a small affair with just over 200 people total. The venue was a small farm nestled in a valley down a long forest road hidden in the foothills of the Coast Range somewhere in central Oregon. The event’s main area was a massive meadow usually reserved for growing hay; part of the meadow had been mowed short to allow different camps and things to set up.
Free of responsibility and with the summer sun dipping below the trees, I headed out on a walkabout one evening. As I wandered through the ankle height grass in the meadow, the smell of damp grass and sweet Mint tickled my nose. As I walked onward, the smell of Mint became more and more pronounced. I looked for someone close or a camp that had an incense burner going, but found nothing of the sort going on around me.
Seeing no obvious source, I looked at the path my feet had stomped through the meadow grass. The grass, cut to about ankle height, was interspersed with tiny mint plants. Every step I took over the last 100 or so yards had resulted in a crushed plant, a torn leaf, or some other way for the fragrant oils being released.
I wished you were there to share it with me. You’d have loved it– the silly bus dressed up to look like a GIANT winged dragon, the faux Vikings serving coffee on the rooftop platform, the music and voices drifting away from a party starting in the camping area, the pastel LEDs shining up into the night sky illuminating the trees, the still of the setting sun all the way out in the meadow, and the minty scent of the sweet grass.
May 2026
Portland OR
Mr Curly's Adventures 