By Alana Chernila
Photo above by Walter H. Scott
It’s a common 5:30 summer conundrum: pull it together and go to Tanglewood or skip it and stay home? I’ve just gotten off work, I’m overheated, and dreaming of watching the squirrels fight over walnuts while I drink a glass of rosé on the back porch. But there’s an opportunity up the road and its call is even stronger as the facts line up in the “pro” column. The weather is clear and dry, the faint breeze driving the mosquitoes away. Yo-Yo Ma is playing Bach. The kids are all home, and they actually want to do something together. And I know it’s time to give in, to mobilize, to screw that top back on the rosé and throw the bottle in the bag with the rest of whatever impromptu and imperfect picnic is there in my kitchen. Load up the blanket and chairs.
Head over there, and make sure to slow down as we pass the folks fishing off the side of the road on Stockbridge Bowl. Drop the kids and the cart at the top of the sloping lawn of the Lion’s Gate lot while we squeeze our car between the other Subarus. Tonight, we have answered YES to the call of the great lawn. We’ve walked away from the stress of the day and the undone breakfast dishes to take our place in all this beauty. By the time we stake our claim on a tiny plot, the grass has nearly disappeared under blankets and makeshift tables. The spots under the biggest trees are gone, as are the ones with a view into the shed or adjacent to the Jumbotron. (One of the unwritten rules is that enough space is allowed between blankets to create pathways for other folks and their carts as they select their own spots.)
“The music makes the stars and candles glow more brightly, the quilted blanket softer, the evening breeze cooler.”
We unfurl the blanket some ways back from the Shed, knowing that the ideal view at Tanglewood is a 360-degree affair. We are primed for the best people watching with an unfettered view of the sky. The sun has already set somewhere over West Stockbridge and we can spy a few candles being lit across the lawn, so we pile our stuff on the blanket and head off for what we like to call “the stroll.” We pretend we have somewhere to go, feigning direction towards the bathrooms at the back or the food court, but we’re just wandering, taking in everyone else’s setups. The young family on an old quilt, unwrapping sandwiches and reaching into a bag of potato chips. The group of friends up from New York with their catered white linen feast. The man on a low beach chair with a thermos of soup and a book. Some blankets are joined to create flower-patterned flotillas in the great green lake. These often correlate to the most ornate setups, with low tables, candelabra, whole cooked fish, and salads that show off the best summer gardens have to offer. We return to our own, more modest setup with heads full of plans for what to bring next time.
Years ago, on a trip to Istanbul, I lugged home a little plywood table with short legs made for rolling pastry, and although I’d never used it for its created purpose, it became the foundation of our Tanglewood kit, a perfect size and height for a picnic. We cover it with a tablecloth and lay out the spread of cheeses from the fridge, baguette and cookies picked up along the way, a crisp and cold cucumber sliced and sprinkled with salt. The rosé goes into plastic glasses that look like stemware—a splurge from years ago that we only use here. My husband had promised a Tanglewood-friendly activity, and out comes our old Deluxe Scrabble board, the one that spins on a lazy Susan and holds the tiny letter tiles in place. In order to see the game as it begins to get dark, he sets up a pair of freestanding toilet paper holders and strings a garland of fairy lights between them. I imagine him dreaming this up earlier in the day, plotting to steal the toilet paper holders out of the bathrooms without my noticing.
How is the Tanglewood lawn, the most distinguished and lovely of all Berkshire settings, also like a campsite? Because, on each blanket, among each group, everyone creates beauty in their own way. You don’t have to look at the Shed or the screens. You don’t have to sit or look at anything at all. Rest in your way. Busy yourself in your way. Stay low and quiet, in deference to your neighbors. Wave to the folks you know, welcome the folks who’ve never been here before.
The music becomes so achingly beautiful. It makes the stars and candles glow more brightly, the quilted blanket softer, the evening breeze cooler. My husband, after taking two-and-a-half fugues to decide on his move, places all seven of his tiles on the board and gasps. A well-deserved “shhhhhhh” from the neighbors in our makeshift summer society jerks him back into awareness of his surroundings, of the joy and calm of hundreds of people starting to pull themselves under their blankets or slide their socks back on as the chill comes in. The music, the summer, the meal. It’s all fleeting. And all meant to be relished while we’re here.
Alana Chernila is the author of three cookbooks and her work has been published in several magazines. She serves as the marketing and communications director for Guido’s Fresh Marketplace.
Five Steps to Becoming a Tanglewood Pro:
1 Pull together your kit, and have it at the ready. There are plenty of ready-made options out there, or you can create your own. Ours includes an old king-sized quilt, our Turkish table, a tablecloth, cloth napkins, a stack of melamine plates, plastic cups, silverware, a tiny cutting board and knife, and a tea light and lighter. Bonus points for one of those amazing lightweight folding carts, some of which even convert into tables. We don’t have one ourselves, but one summer we borrowed one from friends and it was a game changer.
2 Arrive early and take advantage of the grounds. Go explore the maze, take in each and every tree (it’s called Tanglewood for a reason), and make sure to give yourself plenty of time for “the stroll.”
3 Treat it like a tiny vacation. I like to take my cue from the poor cell service and leave my phone stowed in a bag. It’s a great place to read, draw, or just space out and take in the sky.
4 Know your ticket options, and take advantage of the free and reduced-ticket events. There are ticket deals for Berkshire residents and more. We also love to attend the morning rehearsals and performances, which are quieter, even more affordable, and sometimes even free. Some of my favorite recent Tanglewood moments have been on the smaller lawn of Ozawa Hall on Sunday mornings with bagels and the New York Times.
5 Open yourself to music outside of your comfort zone. We typically decide to go to Tanglewood even before we know what’s playing. It’s a great venue for popular music shows, but I find that the grounds hum differently when the music is classical. I especially love the Tanglewood Music Center (TMC) shows, student showcases, and programs highlighting newer composers. Even if classical music isn’t your thing, this is the perfect place to give it a try.
