It is a gorgeous Monday morning, and we’ve been serenaded by fiddle and banjo from the kitchen table as we cook breakfast. Yesterday we hosted nearly thirty Village Harmony teens and their leaders for lunch and dinner, and to cool off in the blistering heat of the afternoon, which has been building for days, took them to splash around at Old City Falls. After a magnificent, if oppressively hot, concert at the Town House, we have ten of them stay with us overnight.
And now, on this beautifully cool morning, before the heat builds once more and they set off on another leg of their tour, Claire and about ten other teens have gathered in a line in front of the tree. I shepherd them up, one at a time, until the tree is full of kids. And, because this is what they do, they break into impromptu song. And I ask myself (as I did two years ago) could there possibly be anything better than a tree full of teenagers singing on a summer morning? As far as pure celebration goes–of life, art, community, nature–it doesn’t get much better than this. This is just about pure gift.
Saying it all in two words:
And a song:
