Some of us squeezed onto the bench in the northern chamber. Others huddled beyond the entrance. Someone lay in the grass to the west. Still others meandered, searching for new vantage points to look and listen.
Eventually, the music ended. Jeff rang a bell. The silence lifted and low conversations resumed as we began the walk back to dinner.
But what had actually happened back there in that remote field, in this remote corner of the Texas Hill Country?
Maybe listening is the thing. A few hours alone to catch up with oneself. A walk outside with new friends. The unexpected and unfamiliar notes of a cello in an uncommon space. A recalibration of sensibilities and sensitivities. Eyes to see, ears to hear.