I’ve reached an alarmingly high level of preoccupation with The Letter. Yes, I’m capable on occasion of thinking about other things, but whenever my mind wanders from whatever I’m doing at any given moment, I find myself wondering what’s going on in Santa Fe. Paul Moravec, my collaborator, is now at the opera house, attending orchestral rehearsals. On Friday I fly to Los Angeles to review a pair of weekend performances at the Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, after which I head for New Mexico on Sunday to join the company for the last two weeks of rehearsals. Ready or not, we open on July 25.
I finally had my first dream about The Letter a couple of nights ago. Alas, it was one of those surreal pseudo-narratives that make little or no sense to the dreamer’s waking self. No one in the real-life cast of the opera figured in my dream, which took place on a stage that bore no resemblance to that of the Santa Fe Opera. Instead of the seventy-piece orchestra that will accompany The Letter, a chamber orchestra was in the pit, and it was playing Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze.” Go figure.
So now what? Well, I have three pieces to write for The Wall Street Journal before I leave on Friday. I also have to pack enough clothes and books for a three-week stay in Santa Fe, and no doubt I’ll blog a bit between now and the time of my departure. Among other things, I still have to report on my ascent to the summit of Mount Ashland. For the moment, though, I can’t seem to think about much of anything but The Letter, so try to be patient with me! I’ve been pregnant for three years, and it’s just about time to stop eating ice cream and pickles and head for the hospital.
UPDATE: The Santa Fe season opened on Friday with Verdi’s La Traviata, starring Natalie Dessay. Here’s an Associated Press review of the first performance.
The season continued on Saturday with the premiere of a new production of Donizetti’s Elixir of Love. Here’s a review from the Santa Fe New Mexican.