A huge white gazebo in the middle of the park, all 1912-May-Day-looking, featured ten flautists from an organization called Flutopia Flute Choir. They all had different flute-related instruments, ranging from picoolos to conventional "normal" flutes to curious more bass-like things which actually curved around, like French horns that had lost their way. I enjoyed hearing the piece they played, lamenting to myself that I am the type of classical music listener who hears a piece and says "sounds like Haydn", and is sometimes and maybe even often right, but sometimes in fact sometimes the piece is instead by someone completely and embarrassingly different, someone from an era entirely and utterly non-Haydnesque.
Sadly, when their piece ended, some ten minutes later, they were replaced on stage by teenagers wearing
plastic bowler hats and singing highlights from "Phantom of the Opera", which gave me a good reason to go see the Living History exhibit, where they ground corn, displayed animal skins and show off modest vintage quilts, with little folderol. I also passed by a guitar, banjo and string bass trio playing a vintage western song with gusto in the shade, face painters, and people dressed in late 19th Century garb posing for pictures, somewhat incongruously holding rifles while dressed in Victorian finery.
I liked the petting zoo for musical instruments, where kids were encouarged to saw on the violin and to
ping the little xylophone. I liked that the quilters' guild quilted. I was intrigued that the native plants booth person ignored me to talk to others--I must exude some non-garden-club-material substance.
All in all, it was a pleasant less-than-an-hour, and perhaps all festivals should be similarly Sesame Street in duration.