friday afternoon/evening i decided to tag along with some friends to the shakespeare festival at winedale. caught a bit of the friday afternoon traffic on our way out of town, but it was a pretty drive. heading east everything is vividly green, mostly owing to summer rains and the humidity. that afternoon, there was no yellow glint of sun to bleach the color of the long grass, the simple trees. just a tumble of grey clouds threatening to spill rain. they never did.
winedale is off the beaten path. we took a few quick turns off the highway, drove through some towns whose populations were smaller than my high school, admired the old wood-framed stores and houses along the side of the road. virginia talked to me about the Center for American History's "collection" of historical buildings winedale. they are apparently not of the same time period, demonstrated very different architectural styles; they have in common that they are all "historical."
we arrived an hour early and so were able to walk at our leisure in the grass, to admire the silver, mirror-like qualities of the lake; enjoy the late afternoon breeze cutting through the humidity. there were several people strolling around the grounds. many had brought picnics to enjoy before the play began.the theater, located in the middle of a grassy knoll, was intimate, semi-enclosed and cooled by swamp coolers and fans. the actors often entered and exited the stage through the same aisles audience members would use to come and go. as the sun set, the stage lights and actors faces became more detailed and bright.
the play of the evening was hamlet. it was long and dramatic i couldn't figure out if hamlet was crazy or just playing crazy. in any event, i didn't feel the sympathy for him that i should have by the end of the production. i was just waiting for all the major characters to die, as i knew they inevitably would. it's a tragedy, after all.
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