January 29, 2011


Yesterday's knife-edged ice mountains have all but disappeared. Left behind are enormous rafts of old stitched-together and melted-over pancake ice floating south along the shoreline at a snail's pace. The edges of these enormous shards have melted just enough to develop a buffer of snowy slush and when the gentle swelling of the water pushes one against another a barely audible "shhhh" hums between them and little bits of white crystal slough off into the depths.

I went inside to collect my things and prepare to practice. When I got to the lounge I caught one final glimpse of the sun before it disappeared behind an ever-growing mass of cloud cover.

As the morning has progressed, the warm hues of sunrise have been replaced by the usual wintery gray to which we've all grown so accustomed. Earlier I'd noticed at least two couples (and a dog) who'd paused along the lake shore to watch the day begin--how fortunate to be among the lucky few who know how beautifully everything started.

Today Regenstein is filled with young musicians auditioning for NU and I've been remembering the day I was among them a little less than a year ago. After my audition (which I felt had gone quite poorly) I took a walk along the lake to let off some steam. The sun was shining in full force and it's reflection off the snow was blinding (I'll bet the sunrise had been gorgeous!). The surface of Lake Michigan was dotted with mini icebergs and though I was fascinated by the sight and relished the thought of living near such an amazing body of water, I was trying not to get my hopes up to high.

Good luck to everyone who's auditioning today--I hope you are as lucky as I was.


  1. You're not lucky. You're extremely talented!

  2. It's so nice to see this through your eyes and experience these days from your perspective. You must write a book.