Apple Cider and ... Cheese & Beer & Snow

Yesterday I woke to a winter wonderland—hey, wait a minute, fall’s barely begun—trees, leaves, cars, and earth covered with two inches of heavy, wet, frozen ... snow? I know. Just a few days ago I wrote about leaves gradually transforming from green to scarlet and gold. It WAS shocking. And, no, I wasn’t ready!

The snow motivated me to pick the last two tiny zucchinis off the vine. Later in the afternoon we drove to a friend’s home to press apples for cider. Our host told us that rain would postpone the event but ... snow did not.

A group of 15-20 picked and chopped apples then pressed and strained them through a large wooden cider press. Our reward was a gallon jug each of fresh sweetness. The afternoon brimmed with conversation, laughter, shared labor, and a well-deserved mug of hot cider to warm frosty hands.

On Friday night Frances and I attended Lou and Peter Berryman’s concert. This folk singing duo composes songs that tumble out of their mouths, flip through the air, and somersault into audience member’s heads. What a thrill to discover performers who LOVE words. The intricate word-webs that Lou and Peter create with their accordion, guitar, professional artistry, and wicked wordiness are delicious.

Humor hurtles through the Berrymans’ performance. Many songs are fabricated conversations highlighting the foibles and frailties of the human species. Their facility with language—and Lou’s ability to articulate complex and tangled phrases—is astounding.

Songs spring from common, day-to-day experience and indelicately critique the off-kilter lives we lead. One song about Wisconsin covered the three main themes of life in our Midwestern state: “Cheese & Beer & Snow.” Another asked the listener “Why am I Painting the Living Room?” as the singer/songwriter listed a host of other more enlightened political causes s/he could pursue.

Lou admitted to an inability to yodel. She and Peter then proceeded to impress us with their “Double Yodel” in which Peter sang the lower part and Lou joined in at the top range. Their double yodel was, indeed, a masterful maneuvering of intricate timing.

“Does Your Dog Agonize?” reminded me of our dog, Namasté. “Artiste Interrupted,” a fanciful venture into creativity, revealed how impossible it is to choose one art form when the artiste has limited talent in all potentialities. Again, Lou’s ability to interrupt herself while singing highlighted the inability of artistic types to settle on one—just one—art form.

I particularly loved the Berryman’s song, “Walking with Roget.” Peter blasted us with clichés then guided us through a world of synonyms for “walk” from Roget’s Thesaurus. Luckily, I strolled and slithered, slunk and traversed right alongside them as they wended their way through a hilarious evening of music and fun. My conclusion? “Winter’s not here yet!”