Lucky Me
Went to the Olympic Music Festival today with Mimi, Jen, and my friend, Andy, to hear chamber music played by, among others, one of my oldest—that is, longest known—acquaintances, Carter Enyeart, whose instrument of choice is the cello. Andy and I rode bikes out there—about 37 miles; Jen and Mimi came along in the car with food and drink and our ride home.
The Festival takes place in this idyllic setting out on the Olympic Peninsula, on a farm set in among old growth trees, near the town of Quilcene. The musicians play in a big old barn where you can sit inside and watch them or, as we prefer, set up a picnic on the lawn outside and listen to the music through speakers attached to the building.
As I usually do when listening to live classical music, I dozed throughout the concert, enjoying being carried along by the melodies as I drifted in and out of consciousness. A lovely experience, but one that seems so distant from the trials and tribulations of the world that I feel guilty, or, more to the point, like Nero fiddling while Rome burned—or more appropriately, like a listener to his playing while the conflagration raged.
The ride out was fine, just hilly enough, with some nice long descents, not too hot, and an overcast to cool you on the climbs. I enjoyed a cream cheese and Nutella sandwich for energy and drank cold coffee from my water bottle for that extra pick-me-up.
On the way home, we caught the ferry with just a two-minute wait and managed to avoid the Seafair Torchlight Parade traffic in town.
All in all, a pretty perfect day—and evidence, I would say, against there being a force for karmic justice in the Universe because I’ve certainly done little, in this life anyway—to warrant such good fortune when so many others in so many places are suffering so mightily.
The Festival takes place in this idyllic setting out on the Olympic Peninsula, on a farm set in among old growth trees, near the town of Quilcene. The musicians play in a big old barn where you can sit inside and watch them or, as we prefer, set up a picnic on the lawn outside and listen to the music through speakers attached to the building.
As I usually do when listening to live classical music, I dozed throughout the concert, enjoying being carried along by the melodies as I drifted in and out of consciousness. A lovely experience, but one that seems so distant from the trials and tribulations of the world that I feel guilty, or, more to the point, like Nero fiddling while Rome burned—or more appropriately, like a listener to his playing while the conflagration raged.
The ride out was fine, just hilly enough, with some nice long descents, not too hot, and an overcast to cool you on the climbs. I enjoyed a cream cheese and Nutella sandwich for energy and drank cold coffee from my water bottle for that extra pick-me-up.
On the way home, we caught the ferry with just a two-minute wait and managed to avoid the Seafair Torchlight Parade traffic in town.
All in all, a pretty perfect day—and evidence, I would say, against there being a force for karmic justice in the Universe because I’ve certainly done little, in this life anyway—to warrant such good fortune when so many others in so many places are suffering so mightily.
posted by Professor Dave at 8:08 PM
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