Three of us, all cello students, decided to play for the ripped land of the nearby quarry. We chose a quiet Sunday morning when the gates were closed and the place was quiet. One of our members smudged the gates and us with sweetgrass and said a tender prayer to the place: “We are sorry. Thank you for all you give us, yet you pay such a high cost. You are not forgotten.”

Within 10 minutes of our arrival, and setting up our cellos, music stands, and chairs, 2 camo-colored ATVs pulled up and 2 burly men stepped out and watched for a few moments as we tuned and played a G scale. They were the owners and had already received multiple phone calls from passer-bys that “something was going on at the gate” and they were very concerned. By the time we explained what we were up to and that it would be a short visit, they then invited us to the local town’s big BBQ, where they were both cooking today.

We played 3 pieces of music for the land. One piece was an old Welsh folk tune, one a Taize chant that is somewhat melancholy, and one was a sweet Halelluia that we chose for the end. As we were packing up, another car drove in, this time woman telling us that she has beautiful private land right up the road where we could practice rather than the quarry site!  We explained again, and she revealed that she is a member of the Anti-Quarry Committee!

So our gift was bookended by the owners who make their living at this quarry work, and a neighbor who is opposed to any further expansion. It was a wonderful, small-town example of “Both/And.”We felt our gift was received right there in the middle of the situation and we loved playing for this place. We took down our Rad Joy flag from the fence, and drove away.

Below: the quarry from afar