Butter Pecan from a Flute Player

A breezy August evening with both temperature and humidity hovering below 80 practically begs for outdoor activity.

I found mine in Meadow Park at an outdoor concert featuring the Glass Brothers, a bluegrass band I'd never heard of but was willing to take a chance on.

You know, I can be open-minded about music.

There was still enough sunlight dappling the green spaces to ensure that early arrivals like me could choose a shady spot and leave the less desirable sunny areas to the latecomers.

By the time the band set up, people were arriving in greater numbers, coolers in hand, dogs on leashes, children in wagons and most with chairs or blankets to spread.

The Glass Brothers had all the necessary bluegrass components: guitars, a banjo, an upright bass, harmonica and two brothers who handled vocals and humor.

They did covers (Dylan and Gram Parsons) as well as original material ("The Blue Ridge Ran Blood Red" was a nod to the sesquicentennial).

For the song "Blue Eyes," the lead singer said, "This is a ladies' choice. Pick a partner and slow dance!"

I couldn't very well ask a stranger to dance with me, but I didn't see anyone else dancing either, not that I turned around to look.

In lieu of an intermission, most of the full band left, leaving one of the brothers, who was joined by a female vocalist for a few songs before the full band returned.

The Fan District Association put on the event and they'd arranged for free ice cream for the crowd.

At one point during "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright," the guy serving at the ice cream cart picked up his flute and played along.

Planned or not, it was a charming moment in the show for those who noticed.

I was relieved to see that I wasn't the only non-Fan resident enjoying the music; one of my favorite Jackson Ward couples showed up just as I was wondering why bluegrass lovers like them weren't there.

A text from a friend had summoned them there. Now that's something I can't do.

Because it was a neighborhood event, there was a moment of silence for Mr. Mendez, the father of Kuba, Kuba's Manny, and such a well-known figure in the neighborhood.

Late in the performance,after many people had pulled up stakes and left, a car pulled up at a house across the street and three people got out.

Two went into the house and a third, a much older woman in her lace-trimmed Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes (complete with a broad-brimmed hat), began to slowly walk over to the park.

She stopped a few feet from where I was sitting by myself and just stood there listening to the music.

"What a fine way to spend a Sunday evening," she said to me, smiling broadly before turning to go home.

My thoughts exactly.