"Can you hear that?"

"Yeah, what is that?"

"Its music."

"I know that doofus.  I mean, where is it coming from and why?"

That was my best friend Laurie; I am the doofus.  Laurie and I were best friends for probably a good ten years before we both went to different colleges and lost touch.  Of course, we promised we wouldn't but, as has happened a million times before, we did.  It is never something intentional, it just kinda happens.  People forget.  Anyway, this isn't the story of how Laurie and I grew apart.  No, it is the story of that music; of that night.

The night was a beautiful summer night with a blood moon.  I had never seen such a color in the moon before or after.  I don't know whether I can't see it anymore or I won't see it.  In either case, no moon has ever lived up to that night.  The color was an a deep orange mixed with red - it was quite a sight.  The air was a mild mid 70's and very little, if any breeze.  The crickets sang their nightly serenade at a deafing pitch.  So loud were they in their song that Laurie and I almost had to shout at each other to be heard in those woods.  So loud were they that we almost missed the music.

"I think it is coming from over there.  From Old Man Winter's pasture." Laurie whispered in my ear.

Old Man Winter was the local kook.  He was always doing stuff that was just a little bit off but nothing really harmful, just mischievous.  Like one time, on a dare, he ran naked through the middle of downtown and irrupted Father Mahoney's homily.  Many of the men thanked him for livening up the mass but the blue birds were a little less enthused.

"Oh this should be good.  I bet Old Man Winter has something cool going on - let's go check it out."

"Alright"

And with that we ran full tilt in the direction, as best as we could discern, of the music.  When we at last broke out of the woods we found ourselves in the midst of an amazing scene.  A full blown concert.  In the middle of Old Man Winter's cow pasture was a stage setup about 4 feet off the ground.  There were lights everywhere flashing on and off.  A band of some sort stood in the middle of the stage producing the music which had drove us there.  About ten yards away from the stage sat Old Man Winter in a lawn chair with a cooler by his right side and his hound dog Boozer on his left.

With a momentary look, Laurie and myself decided to race up to the old man.  Now when I say old, he really wasn't that old.  He was just old compared to us.  Looking back I would say he was no more than 50 years old.  He had never been married, at least not that we knew of anyway. So, he lived on this big farm all by himself with he trusty dog Boozer.

"Hey, Winter was is going on?"

"Shh...this is one of my favorite bands" Winter snapped at me.  I think Boozer might have even growled a little.

With a shrug of our shoulders we sat down beside Boozer, who hardly acknowledged our presence except for that little growl, and took in the sights and sounds.

The music was unbelievable.  The musicians weaved sounds so vibrant you could almost see them.  The lights coincided with the music perfectly.  As one band finished another would start in a moment's notice.  It seemed every genre of music was represented at one time or another during that night.  How long it lasted I could not tell you.  It seemed like days but could've been only hours.  Laurie and I held each other.  We swayed; we danced and we even sang, much to Boozer's discontent, when we recognized a song.  Then it was gone.

It was daylight.  The pasture was empty with no sign of any stage, Old Man Winter or Boozer.  Laurie and I were still holding each other; still swaying, humming a tune that was no longer playing.

We looked at each other.  Had we dreamed it all?  We shrugged our shoulders.

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