From the performance shell, the heroics of the audience – their audience! – moved them to tears. A mexican-wave of brollies had flowed down the amphitheatre, but no-one left the terraces until the torrent had subsided and Genevieve declared a respite. Like many others, I headed for the 44-gallon drums of burning logs scattered across the hillside, valiantly endeavouring to dry a soggy body. Equilibrium restored, chant one more resounded up the valley.
Easter Sunday dawned soft and clear, as a glorious blue seeped high into the sky, above the paddocks, above the lilies in their pond, above the swooping eastern rosellas, above the spotted gums. God was in his heaven, and the conductor tapped the podium.
Four Winds Music Festival, Bermagui, Easter 2010