Music To Fly By

The evening was damp to touch, but not oppressive as we parked in the gravel driveway of an old church, located on the edge of the narrow street. The old lamps attached to the side of the raised houses flickered with gas flames, hours before darkness was to fall.

We filled the wagon with our picnic basket filled with goodies, a blanket, and a boy, and set out to discover the three blocks between us and the large body of water, the park, and the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra.

Already the air was filled with the sound of tuning oboes, violins, and tubas. People on bikes, on foot, with strollers and dogs were milling about. The evening had all the promise of a California summer eve as we found our place under the shade of a massive old oak.


Here it was that Keller St John entered into his precursory training in the fine arts. As all good music should produce, he was soon on his feet, dancing. Running, squealing, playing . . . and finally: flying.

As all good parents know: no symphony in the park is complete without a Dad, a boy, and the Flight Of The Bumblebee.

*****

This post brought to you as part of the Tot School [Tuesday] Series: Volume 19

More Tot School posts can be found here!