Monday, August 9, 2010

Jazz Camping

So there we were, sitting around the campfire on the shores of Georgian Bay when the sweet soul of a lone saxophone arose from a few campsites down,floated out over the water and bounced off the bluffs right back into our midst.

I tell ya, after years of camping beside whackos who can't seem to relax without blaring the worst of yesterday's hard rock, it was nothing short of heaven to be serenaded as such.

Who knew live jazz could mix so well with roasted marshmallows...


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