That's what the mood was at dusk last night in Rogers Park, Chicago's northeastern-most neighborhood.
A stroll along the beach brought the must of fallen leaves and the impish sound of a flute. A flute?
It sounded Gaelic, and indeed it was, but it seemed out of place a few days prior to Halloween, more appropriate, I thought, to St. Patrick's Day.
The flute came from the Ravenswood Morris dancers, a group of people who have preserved this old English music and dance style (
read more about it). The dancers, the fall smells, the flute, the sunset, the kids and dogs getting in a few last moments in the park... beautiful.
That's what the mood was at dusk last night in Rogers Park, Chicago's northeastern-most neighborhood. A stroll along the beach brought the must of fallen leaves and the impish sound of a flute. A flute?
It sounded Gaelic, and indeed it was, but it seemed out of place a few days prior to Halloween, more appropriate, I thought, to St. Patrick's Day.
The flute came from the Ravenswood Morris dancers, a group of people who have preserved this old English music and dance style (read more about it). The dancers, the fall smells, the flute, the sunset, the kids and dogs getting in a few last moments in the park... beautiful.
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