There’s a certain electricity in the mountain air at LEAF — the Lake Eden Arts Festival in Black Mountain, North Carolina. It’s not just about the music or the art — it’s about the sense that, for one long weekend each fall, a community springs to life around creativity, connection, and joy.

The 2025 LEAF Global Arts Festival (October 16-19) celebrated its 30th anniversary this year, transforming the shores of Lake Eden into a living, breathing tapestry of sound and spirit.

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Friday Evening: Arrival into the Magic

By the time I rolled into the Camp Rockmont grounds Friday evening, the sun was already low over the Blue Ridge. Golden light filtered through the trees as music drifted from somewhere in the distance — a mix of drums, laughter, and soulful vocals echoing across the lake.

After parking and grabbing my wristband, I followed the wooded path toward the festival’s heart. The closer I got, the more the energy thickened — families carrying camp chairs, dancers weaving through the crowd, the smell of food trucks blending with autumn air. I found my campsite under a grove of maples, the leaves glowing in the last of the day’s light, and felt immediately at home.

As night fell, the main stage erupted in sound. Victor Wooten & The Wooten Brothers delivered a set that could have powered the mountains themselves — thunderous bass lines, precision grooves, and joyful chaos. The crowd was a sea of motion, people of every age moving as one. It was the perfect way to dive straight into the pulse of LEAF.

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Saturday: A Full-Body Experience

Saturday morning began slow and golden. I woke to laughter, banjos, and the smell of fresh coffee. The fog rolled off the lake like a curtain rising on another act.

I wandered through the festival grounds — artisans hammering metal into jewelry, painters creating live portraits, children learning to hula hoop in the grass. In the Healing Arts Village, soft music floated from a nearby tent where people rested on mats, eyes closed, breathing in rhythm with the earth.

Later, I joined a West African drumming workshop that turned into an impromptu jam session. No one cared who was “good” — the joy was in the rhythm, the togetherness. I spent the afternoon floating between stages: Jackie Venson’s soulful guitar grooves, a burst of Celtic energy from Solas, and a hauntingly beautiful performance from the Black Legacy Project, weaving history and harmony together.

As twilight painted the lake copper and rose, I grabbed a plate of wood-fired pizza and settled in for the headliner, Valerie June. Her voice — earthy, ethereal, and timeless — swept through the crowd like wind through leaves. People held hands, some danced, some just closed their eyes. It felt like the entire field was breathing together.

Later that night, fire dancers spun along the water’s edge while a drum circle formed near the dock. I joined in — off-beat at first, then somehow right in sync. That’s the thing about LEAF: it tunes you back into rhythm with yourself and the world.

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Sunday: The Soft Goodbye

By Sunday morning, the festival had mellowed into a dreamlike calm. Campers emerged slowly, clutching coffee mugs and stories. Music drifted gently from the smaller stages — folk harmonies, fiddles, laughter between songs.

I sat by the lake one last time, watching the reflection of the mountains ripple in the breeze. Around me, people hugged their new friends goodbye, promising to meet again in the spring. There was no rush to leave — just a quiet gratitude that something so genuine still exists.

As I packed up my tent and headed out, I realized what makes LEAF so special: it’s not just a festival. It’s a reminder that community, art, and joy are still alive — you just have to drive a little into the mountains to find them.