The Four Seasons

This afternoon I went to a performance of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" at La Chiesa di San Domenico" in San Miniato. The audience consisted mostly of people over the age of 70 who had miraculously avoided covid although I did get cornered by the mama of a boy I have taught for the past 4 years. Fortunately, I adore him so it was easy to wax lyrical as the musicians strung their bows.  

It was a wonderful performance. "The Four Seasons" is such an exciting and evocative piece. I can only imagine how exhilarating it must have been for the teens in its day. I mean some of the wildly, rhythmic parts are so powerful and thrilling. How the youth of that time weren't forever caught casting aside their corsets and codpieces in a  display of frenzied passion is beyond me. Or perhaps they were. Perhaps Vivaldi performances were just one big "hook up" fest.

Anyway, at the end of the concert I cried a few tears. Partly because the music was so compelling and partly because of my Myers-Briggs Personality type - which is INFJ. ( A story for another time.) The great thing about compulsory masks means the tears could dribble down my face and no one could see them.

Now, of course, I want to start up the violin again. I used to play as a child and if memory serves correctly, I was actually quite decent. My mother was tyrannical though and so I started dreading practice because I hated being watched and then being  forced to perform in front of others ( INFJ anyone?) I guess acquiring a violin as a possession at this point  isn't probably the wisest of investments.

Sigh. In an alternate world I am a classical violinist who rescues baby goats.