Thursday, August 11, 2005

rehearsal shed

After a much-needed nap, I wander outside and decide to explore the grounds. I want to wake up first, before searching out the others. At the end of a small path, I come to what looks like a simple potting shed. Upon peering through the windows, I realize that it is in fact a rehearsal room--equipped with music stand and straight-back chair. What better place to make music than somewhere in the midst of nature, where I can see the fingers of the wind play the leaves of the trees . . .


I slip back into my room for my hardingfele, or Norwegian fiddle. My rucksack has on outer case for it, and while I doubted the wisdom of taking it on an uncertain journey, I am glad that it is with me now. The scroll is carved in a figure more ancient than a goddess. I have never learned her name, but she reminds me of who I am. Her swelling, resonating voice carries through fields and fjords, and it will carry me now. I hope my fellow travelers will like it, and I hope it pleases the queen, in whose honor it will be played.

Re-entering the shed, I tune the hardingfele. After the bumpy journey, and the changes in humidity, it needs it. It was a whim that brought it here. It is not like my violin at home, which usually does my bidding. In contrast, I always feel as if she (the hardingfele) plays me. What will she sing this time, I wonder? I put bow to strings, and hear a story of wind and rain and mountain peaks. The pizzicato of horse's hooves, the harmonics of the heart of night. I tell myself I am practicing, but each time I play, what comes out is different. Each moment has it's own song, heard or unheard. The tune fades away, and it is difficult to hear where the sound ends and silence begins. I put my ear to one of the f holes and hear a faint heartbeat.

Who are you,hardingfele?

(images courtesy of google)

5 Comments:

At 4:38 AM, Blogger le Enchanteur said...

I often wonder what tune my muses will bid me play Maxine. This is a really lovely piece and I just adore the images. That rehearsal shed is perfect.

 
At 5:55 AM, Blogger Imogen Crest said...

This was so evocative I thought I could hear the music already, the instrument is most beautiful...

 
At 7:18 AM, Blogger Believer said...

I'm so glad to have heard your music, Maxine. Someone plays in the Abbey--but never often enough. I will look and listen for you and your music wherever I go.

 
At 3:58 PM, Blogger Karen said...

"The pizzicato of horses hooves..." delicious words.

 
At 8:02 PM, Blogger Maxine said...

please feel free to use the rehearsal shed if you wish :) Thank you for all of your encouraging comments.

 

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