Mount Desert Island

I was so lucky to perform the opening recital of the Bar Harbor Music Festival this summer. It was, of course, lovely to program and perform a recital, as song recitals these days are unfortunately a dying art, mainly relegated to graduating conservatory students and the few lucky opera stars with the clout to sell well at Carnegie.  Not all opera singers enjoy performing song recitals, as they are innately somewhat minimalist affairs -- no grand orchestra, no costumes or props to hide behind. But something about the sparse, pure, intense aesthetic of this form greatly appeals to me. And even more, I love the repertoire that has been written for these recitals so, so much, so it was an honor to have the opportunity to sing it.

It was so lovely to get to travel for Maine for a week. For two summers as a middle-school aged person I went to a summer camp in inland Maine, but never developed a great love or appreciation for it. A bit later, in high school, my mom and I spent a few days with my piano teacher and her husband in their Maine island summer home. I remember chilly days of unrelenting fog, and a sweater-clad walk through reams of scraggly pine trees, which I found atmospheric, but for all the wrong reasons. "Pine trees are creepy," I privately declared. I kept waiting to stumble on a corpse or for a ghostly woman in white to emerge from the fog. In any case, I decided, for the record, that Maine was pretty, sure, but it was an alien beauty that didn't exactly warm my heart.

I don't know what's changed, but it must be me, because this time, for the first time, Maine hit me squarely in the heart. Sure, the first two days were glum and gray, but then the sun broke free, and I was struck by the beauty of it all... the bright blue skies, the rocky beaches, the clear, sparkling lake water, the heady scent of pine trees, the fields of wild flowers, the slight chill in the air at nights.

1. Somewhere in Somesville

2. White daisy fields forever

3. Hiking in the southwest

4. Sunrise on Somes Harbor

5. Acadia walk

6. Boats on Bass Harbor

Beautiful day in Brooklyn.

Surprise!

July 25. I thought I was having dinner with Kate, Kate's mom, and my best friend Ella, who was in town visiting. I arrived at Melisa's house in Park Slope only to find a beautiful silver envelope taped to the front door, which was ajar. I was slightly alarmed that the front door was open, but figured they had all run to the store and left it open so I could let myself in. The silver envelope seemed a bit fancy for a little note, but whatever - Kate's attention to aesthetic detail was no surprise to me by then. I walked into the front hall and found another envelope, this one gold, taped to the inner door. "Jeez," I wondered, "How many notes did they leave me?"



It wasn't until the third envelope that I began to catch on that I wouldn't be having dinner with all three of them, after all. I looked up the stairs and saw a dozen or more colored envelopes taped up the banister. As I made my way upstairs, shaking and tearing open the envelopes as I went, I found picture after picture of us as a couple, each with a caption that told the story of how we met and fell in love.



The last envelope was taped to the ladder leading up to the roof and read, "...but this is only the beginning." My head was swimming as I began to climb the ladder. I had no idea exactly what I would find up on the roof, but I knew it would be special, and that in just a matter of minutes, I'd be engaged to one Ms. Kate Lerner, whom I adored. First, though, I had to go and get myself stuck in the hatch that opens onto the roof before emerging like a creature from the swamp, not a little bit dazed and confused.



Once I freed myself from the hatch, I listened as Kate told me how happy she was that we had found each other, how clearly she saw our future, and some other generally beautiful and sappy things that I can hardly remember because I was so emotional (Of course she was recording the whole proposal, from two angles, I might add, which allowed us to go back and remember how it actually happened). She got down on one knee and opened a blue velvet box with my beautiful opal and diamond ring, and asked me to be her wife. I could only nod and say yes.



It was only after the proposal itself that I was able to take in all that Kate had done on the roof. She had set up a beautiful table, spread with my favorite fruits, cheeses, champagne, and flowers. We were both too excited to eat much, but we sat and took in the late afternoon summer sun and looked at each other in amazement. Kate gave me a copy of Edward Lear's lyric poem "The Owl and the Pussy Cat," which is funnily quite appropriate for our relationship, and letters from her mom and brother welcoming me to the family.

Eventually we went downstairs, still in a daze, and started to call our family and friends. I remember my dad saying, before he hung up the phone, "I'll talk to you later in the week when you've floated back down to Earth!" It certainly took me a few days to do so, and I had a headache from smiling so much.​ I can't wait to marry Kate and start our married life together! One thing I'm sure of is that life will never be boring with her by my side.
                                                                                           
                                                                                                      -- Molly