It was almost half-past noon before we finally got out of town, headed to University Town for the youngest son's Honor Band concert. The weather had been spitting a little snow, but as a rule, the inclement weather that had been predicted wasn't here yet.

Yes, there were clouds everywhere, including a cap on Elk Mountain.

But the Interstate was dry and clear for most of the 95 miles.

In normal winters, there are usually several hundred elk wintering just off the Interstate near the windmill farm. But with the past winter being so dry and open, I wasn't surprised to find those fields and hillsides empty.

Did spot a couple dozen a few miles off the highway further east of their usual spot. Feeding peacefully in the lee of a ridgeline snowbank.

But it was an uneventful trip to University Town. Arrived in plenty of time to get lost trying to find a place to park on campus. (This college is woefully negligent in planning for parking... students essentially commandeer all available residential parking in the town within a half-mile or so of campus on Mondays through Fridays.) Finally settled on parking just off campus, even though the student parking attendant (they also had a university basketball game going, which is horribly popular in this state) told us we could probably park in the "R-permit" lot and get away with it, since it's Saturday.

The Concert Hall is in the modernistic Arts Building, with student works displayed everywhere. The Hall itself is quite impressive for a college, with a huge pipe organ behind the stage, and steeply rising, comfortable seats that felt more like an IMax theater.

And although they wisely had side doors for every three tiers of seats, they equally stupidly had barriers preventing movement between each three-tier set. Following a student's example, I quickly learned to slide one leg through the narrow barrier gap, and swing the other over the nearest seat to move down to the front.

Wife leapt seats at first, also, but then became more civilized and went out in the stairway, up a tier, and then re-entered.

The concert band occupied all the first three rows of seats, as the Jazz Band would take stage first. We found youngest son seated alone at the end of the second row. Kinda hard, I guess, when you're the only one representing your school. And we found out that, no, no one was watching our son. Band instructor figured he was mature and capable enough to take care of himself, and get where he needed to go, so he had just dropped him off on campus this morning.

And he was right, of course.

Jazz Band was good and lively. Everyone know what a mute is? The conical device that brass players put in their instrument's bell to mute their sound?

A lot of professional jazz players just use a hat. I saw that students at other schools across the three-state region represented here use the same thing our school uses:

The rubber cups from toilet bowl plungers.

And yes, you want to buy a new one, not salvage one from home.

Then came the Concert Band:

Only played a few numbers, but hey, they only had the morning and afternoon to practice, so you don't expect a great repertoire. The conductor was a guest from Drake University, who brought along with him a new symphony. They were only the third band in the country to ever see or play this composition of Sleepy Hollow.

Quite modernistic, with mouth pieces played separately from their instruments for many parts, to achieve a proper eerie effect. The son's euphoniums got to be the Headless Horseman's parts, which pleased them no little bit. (He was also thrilled to be able to play with nine other euphoniums. Most all his 6-year musical experience he has played alone, or with one other.)

Both the jazz band and concert band conductors took some time to speak with the audience, explain what their students had done today, and to praise their hosts and facilities. The concert conductor also had another message he wanted to convey, about the value of musical instruction in schools.

He asked all those in the concert band with a GPA of 3.0 or higher to stand.

They all did. Every one.

Higher than 3.25?

Only a handful sat down.

Higher than 3.5?

Another handful.

Only at "Higher than 3.75?" did he get a significant portion to sit. And more than a dozen were still standing after he called for those with 4.0.

'Nuff said.

We met in the foyer of the art building after the concert, a wide room filled with student art work. Some impressive, some less so. Liked one with a matrix of welded nails lifting a ceramic sphere out of a ceramic craddle.

I got reprimanded by youngest son for running my fingers along the smooth, polished horizontal beam of a large sculture made of driftwood.

Seems the beam is only balanced on its base, not actually attached. A fact the youngest son learned the hard way earlier in the day.

Wife was quite taken with one of the art pieces outside, tucked into a hidden corner of the building:

It groppeled on us as we left, so we forewent any shopping for a quick fast food dinner from Arby's (not available in our community) and hot-footed it out of town.

All was fine on the Interstate, even as the sun set behind the mountains.

Forty-five miles out of town we hit the blizzard.