Day 67

I went for a long brisk walk through the sunny snow, checked in on my hollow tree, where I always hope I will see an animal, although I have only seen a possum there on two occasions, in all the years of days.  Today I made my way through the brush, on to the rock which puts you almost on a level with the cavity, about 10 feet away, and stared, trying to see into the darkness.  And suddenly I realised that I was looking at a creature, there was a sleeping, breathing animal in there, and I thought, after a few more shocked seconds, that it was a large owl, as it seemed that I could make out a beak and tightly closed eyes.  I got quietly down and strode as fast as I could back home, but when I had made the long trek back, had the camera, and was walking towards the tree again I convinced myself that the little being would be gone, so that I would not be disappointed if it was, and of course, as I plunged downhill three deer suddenly scattered at my headlong rush, and moved away into the trees surrounding THE tree.  As I went closer they all scuttled noisily away, and I expect that the owl thought something very dangerous was coming and flew off, because by the time I got to the viewing rock, the tree was empty.

I wandered around the base, and stared up into as many trees as  I could before my neck refused to do that any more, and pondered on enjoying the moment rather than giving in to this ridiculous desire to capture it on camera.

Crossing the stone wall, some chickadees decided to cheer me, and sang their little piping songs, and flitted around a few inches from my eyes, doing little dances and aerobatics just for me. 

I sat on the bench-rock in the meadow and felt the warmth of the sun, the actual warmth.  And so the seasons come around again, the tilt of the earth, spring coming for us, autumn for Jess and all our family and friends in South Africa.

This evening we have been to an Avett Brothers concert at TD BankNorth Garden, a huge sports and entertainment arena at North Station in the city. The Avett brothers band consists of two brothers, Seth and Scott Avett, and three other "honorary brothers", including a very interesting cellist, who plays his cello while leaping around the stage, a feat I had never witnessed before.  They sing "harmony-drenched southern-influenced rock", which Tim discovered a few months ago. 

I think that I am more of a Symphony concert type of person, where the music is filled with colour and variety, and the silences mean something just as the notes do.  And the people are all attentive to the musicians and everyone behaves.  No one has public fights right in front of you, like the sorry-looking grump in the seat in front of Tim, who was dumped by his vivacious girlfriend during the interlude between the opening band and the actual concert.  Or the couple next to them who danced (really badly) for most of the songs, not giving a hoot for my friends sitting beside me, who couldn't see through their gyrating bodies.

And don't they torture people by shining sudden bright lights in their eyes?  Why ever would you do that to people who have paid to see a show then?   In almost every song, at one time all the revolving lights above the stage would abruptly turn on the audience with the seemingly express intent of blinding us!  In the end I had to sit shading my eyes with my hand and peep out of the bottom if I was to see any of the band's action.  But then looking around to see if anyone else was outraged, I found that everyone else could happily look straight into these lights, so I must just be too old and fragile. 

Also, I don't actually do well in places with lots of people and no windows, and smoke machines.  Why would you want smoke?  Or the illusion of smoke?  And people shout and scream inanities, I was constantly jumping out of my skin every time a man would scream out behind me with a bloodcurdling howl, at a completely inopportune time, not at the end of a song when you almost come to expect it and can brace yourself a bit.. 

So it was a violent assault on the senses, this concert, and even Tim admitted to feeling that a little, with your seat thumping with the waves of music, people coming and going and spilling beer and being thoughtless and gross and too many. 

Tim said that we are just probably too old.  Perhaps.

Seth Avett is a very accomplished artist too.  His paintings are much quieter.

Seth Avett's painting of his wife and two children

Well, maybe not.  Can you hear that baby screaming?