Al Fresco Aspen, Part 2: An Homage to an Aspen Summer

 

Lounging at the Tent, circa 1991.
(Photo: Durrance Collection, courtesy Aspen Historical Society)

[This is the second installment of a multi-part blog series highlighting a few outdoor pursuits in our hometown during the longest days of the year. These vignettes paint a picture of midsummer in Aspen. From a father and daughter throwing flies in a secluded creek high above Aspen to adventures in the high country and groups of friends lounging away on a Sunday afternoon at the Music Tent, “Al Fresco Aspen” is an homage to a few—of the many—things we love about summertime in the ZG.]

Symphonies on Sunday in the West End

There is a small creek that cuts through the grass at the Benedict Music Tent in downtown Aspen’s West End. The four-inch ditch that bifurcates the lawn serves as a quasi-line of demarcation for local listeners who flock to the grass for a weekly tradition during summertime in Aspen: Sunday afternoons at the Music Tent. To the west side sit the serious listeners and to the east side of the lawn sit the casual listeners. Together, they make up part of town’s tapestry; a woven community that enlivens the Paepcke’s premise of “mind, body, spirit.” And Sunday at the Music Tent is a staple for Aspenites and visitors who know, a quintessentially Aspen experience not to be missed.

Summer Sundays at the Music Tent in Aspen is a local treasure.

As the audience settles into their seats, the tent buzzes with a palpable anticipation. On stage, the orchestra is a whirlwind of activity: musicians adjust their seats and tune their instruments in a cacophony of sound. The high notes of violins, the deep, resonant hum of cellos, and the brassy blasts of trumpets mingle in a dynamic, almost chaotic harmony. The concertmaster raises their bow, signaling the start of the tuning process, and the orchestra gradually coalesces into a unified, refined sound. Amid the flutter of pages and the murmurs of last-minute adjustments, a sense of collective focus and excitement builds, as the symphony crescendos from a disordered prelude into a poised and performance—harried to harmonious.

The Harris Concert Halltoday.
(Photo: courtesy Aspen Music Festival & School)

As the musicians tune and the concert goers file into the tent, a man schlepps chairs, a picnic blanket, and tarp from his West End garage to the grass outside the tent. He does it every Sunday afternoon in Aspen during the summer. After setting up on the east side of grass, he’ll return to their kitchen to grab a small cooler he and his wife prepared. They always chill white wine and bring passable treats to enjoy on the west side of the lawn. Everyone brings something different to the lawn, but his weekly go-to choices are usually charcuterie and cheeses, bubbles and White Burgundy. There was a lot of White Burgundy this year.

It's become a weekly tradition for a group of friends in Aspen during the summer. Every Sunday afternoon during the summer months, a group gathers on the grass outside of the Benedict Music Tent in Aspen’s West End. The white tent sits above the Roaring Fork River in one town’s charming enclaves. Dug out beneath the acoustic roof is a venue that hosts world renowned symphonies and musicians thanks to the Aspen Music Festival’s programming. This group of boomers never ventures into the tent, however. Rather, their weekly congregation rests on the lawns outside the tent. It’s become a treasured tradition to cap off harried weeks of work and travel, weekends of hikes and play.

Apps and naps on the lawn, circa 1980. 
(Photo: Bob Krueger Collection, courtesy Aspen Historical Society)

She wears a sun hat and carries the Sunday edition of The New York Times. She saves the papers on Sunday for the tent. He wears a polo, shorts, and loafers, and he usually brings a manilla folder filled with contracts and pitch decks from work. Time at the tent is well spent if he can get ahead before the week starts.

The friends set up in a semi-circle. Small talk and laughs until the conductor taps their baton on the music stand. This crew sits on the “serious listeners” side of the tent—the west side. It’s quiet over there.

On the east side of the tent, local families play Uno on a blanket, kids splash in the small creek or jump off the boulder in the lawn, parents catch up about lacrosse games, summer camps, and travel. The “casual listeners” on this side celebrate the scene, too, but there at a different stage of life. Coolers are filled with sparkling waters and Sav Blanc or Hazy IPAs and juice boxes, and passable snacks amongst the casual listeners on the west side of the tent consist of are pizza slices or chicken fingers.

The Music Tent today.
(Photo: courtesy Aspen Institute)

The music ends before the sun sets. The serious and casual listeners merge on the path as friends and families, neighbors and strangers head away from the tent and towards another week.