Tchaikovsky Sunday: Ice and Fire

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If there were a hue called Arctic blue, that would have been Michigan’s sky this morning.  The dazzling sun belied the temperature: a frigid minus 9 F.  The afternoon was warmed, not by a Southerly breeze, but by the passion of Tchaikovsky played by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.  The program featured a favorite of mine, the 1st Piano concerto.  The romantic theme of the first movement carried  me to a different emotional space.  The second movement’s graceful solo, like a water bird stepping delicately among the waves, seemed to bring time to a stop, before the Russian dance fanned the flames of the finale.  When I ventured back outside among the concert goers, whose breaths appeared as puffs of  vapor before disappearing into the night air , the cold seemed tempered by the promise of a not-distant spring.

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