Yesterday’s House Concert by the Rose City Mixed Quartet was one of those marvelous experiences during which everything else simply dropped away.  I didn’t take a single photograph – didn’t even think about it.  I didn’t pass around the guest book.  I didn’t hear the clock chime.  I was totally immersed in their songs, their sounds, their interactions…  I was transported.

I think everyone else was, too.  In retrospect, I am doubly glad of that because, though I didn’t once think of it during the concert, I had been a little anxious about the state of things here in the house.  The silver was looking a bit tarnished; there was a slight patina of dust on the horizontal surfaces; there were probably cobwebs in the upper corners.  But all of that disappeared from my mind, once the RCMQ took ‘center stage’ in our library.

Their program ranged from the sublime (“Ave Maria”) to the spiritual (“Deep River”) to the whimsical (“Li’l Red Riding Hood”).  And, they actually had printed programs!  Even though there was a disclaimer at the bottom of the page – songs may be added or dropped from the program at the whim of the group – they stuck to it pretty well.  The only numbers they skipped were those that the soprano couldn’t manage due to one of those dreaded nose/throat ailments – bad enough for any of us, but an anathema to a singer.

After the performance there seemed to be a mellow glow left behind.  Audience members were engrossed in interesting conversations as they enjoyed the potluck supper.  There were a number of those “small world” things going on – people learning of shared acquaintances or situations or places they lived.  The catalyst for all those interconnections were the members of the quartet, themselves.  Cameron Herbert (soprano), Dale Webber (tenor), Helen Deitz (alto) and Mark Peterson (bass) have a way of transcending  the role of “performers” and becoming friends.  Or for us, family.

And speaking of such, I was still visiting and enjoying myself when I realized that the dishes were done, the furniture was back in place, the chairs borrowed from the church returned.  I had not lifted a finger!  A magical evening for sure here in Oysterville!