I was taken with Barbara Higbie's presence. It seemed like she was looking directly at me as she played, and I burned a lot of film taking her photographs.

This is one of my favorite photographs of the festival.

Cello player Jami Sieber, lending harmony vocals to Barbara Higbie.

A very impressive fretless bass player, Don benedictson.

I knew absolutely nothing about Cheryl Wheeler before this festival, but now I am in danger of becoming a groupie. With her intelligent lyrics, her direct style, and a sense of humor that had me--and everyone else around me--in tears, I was won over.

When she first appeared, after the applause died down, I was shocked when someone up front asked whether Cheryl was wearing a bra. "Yes," she said, without surprise or hesitation, "at 46 I should be wearing proper underwear."

Two days after the concert I found myself trying to distribute the three syllables of po-ta-to over the chorus of the Mexican Hat Dance. Neither will ever be the same.

I confess that I have joined an online Cheryl Wheeler group, where her most dedicated fans virtually convene to tell Cheryl stories and concert experiences. I lurk there, meaning that I am an eavesdropper, a virtual fly on a virtual wall.

After processing my film from the festival, I was surprised that I only took two exposures of Cheryl. I guess that I was laughing so hard that I couldn't see clearly enough to focus. Or maybe I was enjoying myself so much, I just forgot. I thouroughly enjoyed her.