Orchestra in the Old Winery

I am sitting in the old chai  by the river as an orchestra tunes up.   The space is both familiar and strange.   I know this 18th century ceiling of massive oak beams vaulted overhead.  But the windows are newly painted, and the wine barrels have vanished. 

Then the music swells and the poignant violins of a Sibelius Impromptu fly me into another epoch.

The children are with me.  Decades ago.   We’re traipsing over the dirt floor of this  old winery, trying to sort out the neglect, dragging 60-year-old wine barrels to the chain saw where John is slicing up the old wine-wood.

This endeavour brings mixed feelings.  I secretly love the old chai as it is:  a place where time has stopped.  Dust motes dancing in the light, the farm tools left just as they had been dropped decades ago.   At the end of a harvest the workers set down their tools for the following year, but the following harvests never returned.        The implements thus rested so, sleeping untouched all these years.

Although the hovering ghosts give me shivers, we talk as we work.  We dream up ways to re-tool this extraordinary place.  Henri suggests a roller blade park.  Julien suggests laser tag.  Geneviève suggests a ballroom.   The ideas mount: a music studio, a writers retreat, an artist colony…

But such was not to be.   The house was sold and we moved up the hill to the farm. 

And so it was, in the strange ways of fate, I found myself stepping into the old chai  this summer, as music rose to the rafters.   I took in the glorious transformation.   Musicians in rehearsal.   

Enchantment.

And with the enchantment returned that little pinch in my heart.      

A cousin had said, “time heals all.”   But that was not true. 

A friend had said, “yes, whenever I pass my old family home, j’ai le coeur serré.” (a pinch in my heart.)   

I turned my coeur serré  to the story of  “Jeanne – Seeds of Infinity.”   Writing “Jeanne” compelled me to explore the forests surrounding our farm.  And like Jeanne, encounters with ancient trees and a flowing spring brought miracles.   

Even so, the pinch remained. 

Until the Sibelius.

The miracle of it:  The Orchestre de Chambre de la Gironde in the old chai.  A Conductor’s Academy – an immersive retreat –  with Music Director Scott Sandmeier.   Young conductors from Germany, France, Russia, China, Argentina… 

A glimpse into the behind the scenes alchemy of an orchestra in rehearsal.    

I am part of a committee that helps the OCG present a local music festival – now going into its 40th year.    The Young Conductors Academy was inaugurated this summer in a week of intense instruction and preparation for two concerts. 

During rehearsals I watched the maestro interrupt – what seemed to me exquisite sequences – to make suggestions, sometimes delicate, sometimes emphatic.  And then the professional reactions of the young conductors:  Their seriousness.  Their passion.  I listened mesmerised as the maestro tried to help them discern the “between the lines” intentions and vision of the composer and evoke the best from the willing orchestra.

Such a privilege to attend these rehearsals.   How often do you see the expressions on a young conductor’s face as they connect with the musicians?   And the rarity of it all.  In a small village…   Our 19-year-old Chinese student said that in his country, such an event would only happen in a large city, with government funding.   He and his Russian classmate who stayed in our cottage (and made jam for us from the plums they found) could not get over how “everyone makes us feel so welcome.”  

We were delighted they felt the warmth and generosity that have been the hallmark of this Festival for  39 years.  

And so, there I was this summer, in the old/new chai.  Violins, piercing my heart-pinch.   Sibelius:  Poignant, epic, tragic, triumphant, bereft, joyful.  Hope and despair.  And above all – transcendent.   Carrying us out of ourselves and our cares.    

Lifted by the music that day I floated in two epochs.  I am the young me with my young husband and young children.   And I am the new me.   Cauterized by the medicine of the violin.   

After the public rehearsal, scores of guests and musicians gathered here on the hill and we gazed down at the old chai on the river below.   We drank sparkling wine from this vineyard, the fruit of our own labor.   The sunset light was filled with laughter, celebration and a sense of community.    

When it grew dark, some musicians stayed on to play the piano.  They improvised Gershwin’s famous aria and embellished with four hands…   A charming young German conductor refused a ride home: 

“No, I don’t want to leave.    We are exploring “Summertime.”   

We sang on into the night.  

Postscript:  This was the summer of endless fires in Southwest France.  After the Young Conductor’s Concert, the government of Gironde shut down all public gatherings.  Our committee valiantly scrambled to find concert venues elsewhere.  The village of Lamothe, on the other side of the Dordogne river, invited the Orchestra to perform.  A small church on a perfect evening.   Pierre Hamel played Vaughan Williams “The Lark Ascending.”   It brought us to tears.

And to our great relief, the Governor lifted the ban just in time for the OCG to perform in Gensac, as has been the tradition, for now 39 years.

* J. Sibelius (1865 – 1957)  “Impromptu pour orchestre à cordes”

L’Orchestre de Chambre de la Gironde – https://orchestredechambredelagironde.fr

“Jeanne: Seeds of Infinity” by Mary Bruton Sandifer https://marybrutonsandifer.com