Ithaca, N.Y. — Indian Creek Farm is a self-described "Orchard Playground" that lets visitors pick apples, raspberries, tomatoes and the rest.

But these are no ordinary fruits and veggies. The wonderful folks at Indian Creek Farm have actually discovered that their products may, in fact, have special and secret musical talents ...

Let us introduce you to "Veggiestock," a recreation of the famed 1969 Woodstock festival made with — or should we say "by?" — veggies.

Written by the Indian Creek Farm:

IN THE WEE HOURS, millions came out to look at the moon. They had just watched the lunar landing on live TV. It was 1969. Today, people still remember that night in high definition. Other folks can say where they were when the Berlin Wall toppled or the first POWs returned from Vietnam. Do you remember milestones like those?

Will you remember when the vegetables laid down their petty squabbles to gather for a day of love and music—when they simmered together in a summery soup?

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Of course you will—it’s called VEGGIESTOCK and it’s happening right now! Pecks of produce have descended on a burbling stretch of Indian Creek. Everybody is here: Aubergine to Zucchini, sweet to savory.

Even the apples were invited. They can be snooty, so high up in the trees, but when they drop everyone remembers we’re all the same.

It’s a party at the swimhole, where groupies can rub elbows with Heiferson Starship—or at least canoodle with the roadies who loofah those elbows.

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Veggiestock is a unique moment in spacetime when you bump into the likes of Pig Floyd, singing in the shower, feeling “comfortably numb.”

Or that bad boy of the British Invasion, drummer Keith Moo of The Poo. His leathery skin seems to say, “one too many festivals,” while his distant gaze—scanning the teenage wasteland—says he has forgotten the words to “Baba Ghanouj O’Riley.”

It is a true watershed moment, captured in the immortal words of Crispin, Squash, Nosh, and Yum (CSNY) — “So much water moving underneath the bridge, let the water come and carry us away…”

It is a mystical kind of day—and this is really saying something—when you don’t mind waiting in long lines to go potty…

Anyway the line is mostly little tomatoes (they can’t hold it very long) and they’re fun. When one of them starts giggling, the rest get rolling, and before you know it everyone is doing an absurd potty dance to the distant drumbeat.

On stage we see our heroes Tom, Peppa, and Eggder. They realized that while Eggplantapalooza was a blast for the eggplants and Pepperoo was a hoot for the peppers, it would take a homegrown power trio to bring all the fruits and vegetables together. Veggiestock, even more than their music, is their magnum opus.

Peppa has grown into a svelte and spindly diva. She leads the band. Her golden pipes remind listeners of the great Janis Croplin.

Tom is the comic relief, firing out rockabilly licks in vintage Deely Boppers that his grandpa picked up at the 1982 World’s Fair in Knoxville. Dude doesn’t care; he’s got chutzpah. (Eggder is taciturn like a proper bass player.)

Meanwhile, back on the ranch, the sprouts have hooked up a big screen and got the neighborhood kids watching Veggiestock. Of course, they’re not eating popcorn—it would be a little too close to home, genetically.

It is a day for all ages. When the young can admire their elders, when the old can appreciate the young, and when—just for a moment—everyone can understand the twenty-somethings.

Finally, for two old birds who have lived and learned, Veggiestock is the love scene in the screenplay of their golden years. You might hear them whisper:

“Looks like we’re doing alright, Bob.”

“Not half bad, Mildred.”

“Yeah, not half bad, Bob.”

“Let’s get a donut."

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