A Little Cultcha'...BSO Style

maine-matters has been pretty quiet of late..

There really isn’t a good reason for such inactivity except the late, winter doldrums that have had me wrapped up like a caddisfly in its stony, larva case, bumping along in the currents of January and February.

In an effort to rescue me, my wife Pat, pried me out of my recliner and into the car for a trip up to Orono and The Collins Center For The Arts for a dose of culture.

Our first stop though was a part of Maine culture that has immense appeal to me..

Sunday lunch at Dysart’s Truck Stop. Always a very satisfying experience, at least to my palate but probably not a pre or post performance favorite for the symphonic crowd..oh well..

And after a heaping helping of a hot turkey sandwich (and I mean heaping) we were off to Orono for the BSO performance. On the way up 95 I was wondering… why did I choose turkey?.. with its tryptophan component , it could be a definite consideration sitting on a plush, comfy seat in a darkened auditorium..but too late..the dye was cast.

With the orchestra warming ..er tuning up,  we were ready to take our seats

and soon enjoing the performances of Copeland’s  Appalachian Spring (with apologies to a fine composer and that area, I’m really much more interested in a Maine Spring)..a Concerto for Horn and Orchestra performed by renowned French horn player Richard Todd..and for the finale, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6, the Pastoral Symphony.

Luckily I had the support of Pat, who in her pre-guide dog training life, is a trained classical musician herself and is definitely in the know about such things. 

And good it was that she was there or I would have been blissfully applauding between Movements, a definite faux-pax among the symphony goers circle.

Such is my ignorance..  

  

As the performance concluded and with an approving nod from her, my untrained opinion that the orchestra sounded great was justified and soon we were out the door..

So perhaps with the longer days and another shove from Pat, I can extricate myself from the recliner. And soon I’ll be replacing the TV remote with a fly rod. 

Maybe my case of the winter doldrums has been broken. 

Can a Maine Spring be that far away? I think not..