In the evenings when I arrive at Concord's Scout House for the Contra Dance, the tall windows are glowing yellow in the darkness. If it's warm, the windows are open, and fiddle and piano music drifts out over the evening air. If it's midwinter, the windows are snugged, but I can see the dancers, and already almost smell the nice wooden floor. The thumping of feet and the rhythm of Cal's double bass call to my own feet, and I want to dance, even before I can make it through the doors.
