The thunderstorms and their torrents had passed on -- leaving the clouds to shred themselves into sunlit tatters. I drove the back roads to the winery in North Stonington for the Thursday night music. It was The River Gods playing -- roots rock -- a little reminiscent of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, but with a bit of Grateful Dead mixed in and put out with mandolin and pedal steel guitar.
I was alone for the first set (they played till they'd broken one string too many). The nearly full moon was rising in a lacework of blue clouds, and the purple peach sunset was fading down over the back horizon. A treefrog was chuckling somewhere over my right shoulder. Monica had gone to Boston to pick up Hanno and they arrived the same time as Yuri and Sarka. Then the zinfandel and merlot and conversation flowed and I lost track of all but the most soulful of the music.