I was intrigued to receive this letter with no return address, not unlike the typewritten letters and cards I once sent to my wife Ann before I really knew her. She let me puzzle over it for awhile before confessing that she wrote it. I’m glad she’s my Freaky Secret Admirer.
The temperature finally dropped enough to freeze the lake where these geese are wintering. It looked at first like they had just been frozen in place, but I think they’re sitting on the ice. The temperature was up to 11 degrees Fahrenheit when I left home today. Thankfully the recent winds finally calmed down.
This story is more believable in the context of Japanese culture, which makes it more enjoyable and meaningful to me. Even the comedic characters seem possible, which the American version didn’t pull off. The one strength I grant to the American movie, though, is that it gives more attention to the impact of the main character’s secretive dancing on his wife and marriage, which is a central theme.
We’re treated to another day of gorgeous sun, with just a little bite in the wind this time. We figure out the hike from the Bank campground to Cactus Cliff, a worthwhile outing in itself. There are more climbers on the rock today, but we still find things to climb. I try an onsight of an unoccupied route and it luckily turns out to be within my ability. Ann leads Kalahari Sidewinder, described by another climber as “a devious 5.8″. Some friendly climbers let me use their toprope on Dihedrus, 5.10b, a very fun stemmy dihedral.
We don’t get on the rock at Cactus Cliff until the afternoon, but the perfect weather holds for us. The book we have makes it look like Shelf Road is dominated by 5.11 and 5.12 routes, but we find a couple of good easier climbs. It looks like a lot of newer routes have been put up too. The rock is super-grippy, pocket-riddled limestone – fun stuff.
Routes: Crynoid Corner, 5.7, excellent dihedral hand crack. Slicer, 5.10c, steep face with two small roof problems.
A nice Thanksgiving this year. Sarah’s turkey turned out well, even after some extra time in the oven. Her mom Zita delivered extra good green beans, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and homemade cranberry sauce. Tante Berti has retired from her position as dessert chef, but bought us a huge yummy chocolate cake in consolation. The family antics were amusingly rowdy without getting ugly. Maybe the holidays aren’t to be dreaded after all…
Initially I thought this documentary featured the same palace Ann’s brother Randy, an army Lieutenant, had written to us about, but I think it’s a different Hussein family palace. I don’t regret the choice, though. This film mostly gives a voice to soldiers on the ground near Baghdad, letting them talk (or sing, or rap) about the experience in their own way with a minimum of spin. It does more looking around than arguing or accusing. That’s certainly a relief to me.
Referred by Schadenfreude
The mornings have been bright and cold recently. The Cache La Poudre River is fairly still in most places these days, so it freezes overnight, then shines and steams when the morning sun hits it.
I think this is a White-tail buck, since does do not usually grow antlers. He tried to hide from me in the grass behind the fence at first, then decided to escape to the river.
Eighteen-year-old pianist Natasha Paremski stole this show with her performance of Tschaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1, as is clear from the Rocky Mountain News review.
Jeffrey Kahane surprised me at this performance by conducting without a word, and I realized that I was anticipating the long or short lecture he’s given at the past few dates. He stayed true to his other patterns, though, starting with a slightly eccentric, punctuated orchestra piece from a young (34) composer, Thomas Adès, called …but all shall be well.
Next came a choral symphony by Rachmaninov, Kolokola (The Bells). I realized that I’ve only heard piano pieces by Rachmaninov so far, and it was kind of exciting to look at the whole symphony choir standing on stage and wonder what Rachmaninov would do with them. The music doesn’t disappoint, evoking four phases of life symbolized by different bells (“The Silver Sleigh Bells”, “The Mellow Wedding Bells”, “The Loud Alarm Bells”, and “The Mournful Iron Bells”). The real shocker for me came when the first of three soloists (Richard Clement, Oksana Krovytska, and Nathan Berg) launched into his work. If I’ve heard an opera singer live, I had forgotten how visceral it is. It doesn’t seem like a voice should be able to make sound that you feel in your own gut, like standing near a passing train. I find it a little spooky as well as awe-inspiring.
And finally Natasha Paremski. She has a touch of shyness and uneasyness to her appearance that isn’t unusual for a teenager, but her playing has none of that. At the keyboard she becomes daring, especially with dynamics, playing long passages extremely softly, without any cover from the orchestra. Jeffrey Kahane cooperated, appearing to let her explore the concerto as she wished. She did so with apparently flawless execution, completely capturing the audience, myself included. I even applauded involuntarily between movements, with much of the rest of the audience, unaware of what I had done until the next movement began.
I joined in all the standing ovations at the end as well, but I found myself feeling a little melancholy, wondering if we as an audience would betray Natasha in the future when she is no longer an 18-year-old wunderkind. Will we still beg for an encore when she is older, perhaps less experimental and more self-assured? I hope so.
