Journey to Boulder

I went up to Boulder for the Ars Nova group's evening concert of English Renaissance choir music with viola da gamba accompaniment.  I arrived early and had an afternoon to while away.

My first step was to visit the Whole Foods Market, which had just announced its closure.

I had been a great fan of its long-ago predecessor, called Wild Oats.  I went inside and saw no vestige of the casual hippy charm of Wild Oats.  What I saw was the typical Whole Foods soulless glitz.

A 50% off sale was in full swing, and gleaners had stripped most of the shelves bare.  A matron in front of me swung her arm and swept an entire shelf of corn chips into her cart.  Bargain mania is a terrible thing.

I fled Whole Foods and drove north to find St. John's Episcopal Church, the venue for the evening's concert.

The town of Boulder, nowadays a pocket of smug decadence, is blessed with a splendid assortment of historic church buildings.  Great has been its fall!

(A minor aside:  I find it puzzling that conservative voters place such hope in the nomination of Neil Gorsuch.  He attends this church, one of the most liberal churches in the most left-wing town in Colorado.)

I had planned to take a long walk in the Boulder foothills, but a nasty west wind soon chased me to the warm sanctuary of the Boulder Public Library.  I checked out their stacks and perused their art exhibit.  This fish, entitled Koi XI, by Buffy Andrews was the most cheerful thing in the exhibit.

I discovered a new novella by Peter S. Beagle, famous for his 1968 book The Last Unicorn.  The novella, In Calabria, also features a unicorn.  I just finished the novella when the library closed at 6:00 p.m., ejecting me and a great number of homeless into the twilight chill.

I started my walk back toward St. John's and saw a man thronged by a huge flock of ducks.  I instantly feared for his life.  But all was well.  He was flinging bread crumbs out of a great bag.  The Duckman of Boulder!

After a brief stop at a deli for a sandwich, I arrived at St. John's to enjoy the concert.

English renaissance music, much more earnest and direct than Italian renaissance music, perks me right up.  The choir was in excellent voice and the supporting viol players were marvelous.

Here is a photo I took during intermission.  Evidently, I was bumped as I took the shot.  The cantilevered organ pipes seem surreal.