Weekend

Saturday morning I through sheer force of will dragged myself over to my garden and started getting the autumn cleanup underway. What a mess! I have been avoiding the garden for a few weeks now, and to the casual observer it didn't look all that bad. Lots of black eyed susans and marigolds still defying the cooler temperatures. On closer inspection the weeds had been propigating like white trash, and much creeping vineyness in the form of bindweed and morning glories that seem to have naturalized themselves in the gardens. So, with sinking heart I commandeered an wheelbarrow and started yanking weeds and deadheading perrenials. To my surprise the time actually flew, and before I knew it, it was noon. So off to home for lunch and a disco nap, so that I wouldn't fall asleep during symphony.

The afternoon sort of flew by and before I knew it I was meeting Clint in front of Symphony Hall. Symphony has has a recent face lift and the renovations are very nice. It had the last time I had seen it still looked like some grand lady in reduced circumstances. However with all of the gilding, painting and carpeting no one in the organization, in their infinite wisdom has seen fit to replace the butt deadening seats in the auditorium. As I observed to Clint, this is New England, so you probably can't properly appreciate culture unless you are benumbed behind. The perfomance itself was very enjoyable, Peter Serkin gave a wonderful performance of Brahms Piano Concerto #2 and Levine as usual was up to his high standard conducting both the Brahms and Schumann's Symphony #2. There were no big surprises since both pieces are warhorses, but they are the type of music that regardless of the number of times you have heard them, they are always enjoyable. Afterward it was off to home and my chaste (damnit) bed.

Sunday involved more gardening. I wound up planting about 150 spring bulbs, which will probably end up feeding the neighborhood squirrels over the winter. Regardless, it was good to be up and doing something instead of sinking further into my seasonal funk. Around noon it was time to go home and start making myself beautiful for Warren and get to the theater. The opera was very good. I was impressed by both the singing and the orchestra. I had not been in the Majestic in a long time and they too have been busy bees,renovating and it is quite the grand Victorian chocolate box now. The only sour note in the whole opera came not from the stage but from the chatting, giggling cellophane rattling idiots sitting in back of us. Against all expectation, they were not young. Not even remotely young! After the performance when we were having dinner, Warren told me that last year he had gone to an afternoon series at Symphony and it was all pensioners and that they were the worst audience he had ever encountered. His theory is that they are not so much interested in going out to listen to the music as they are looking forward to some break in their routine.

All in all I have to say it was a very good weekend. I enjoyed the company as much, if not more than the actual events. I think it is all a part of aging, I am finding it all too easy to climb into my own small personal space and not come out and look at the world around me, or make time for friends or activities that occur outside of the bounded space I create for myself. It was good to get outside of my own head and notice that there is indeed a big world out there with a lot of things to see I have not seen before and things to do I haven't done before.