Less than 24 hours after the summer solstice and I’m already depressed, as the day seems so much shorter than yesterday. But I press ahead and make my annual footslog to the Make Music Chicago celebration.

This year, in conjunction with The Newberry’s A Night at Mr. Kelly’s exhibit, Washington Square Park presented, I think, the jazz group, the Marshall Vente Trio (Vente is a keyboard player, but Jeremy Kahn was tickling the plastics on the digital piano, and I wasn’t paying attention to all the introductions, so I don’t know), with Greta Pope, and the blues group Mississippi Heat, whom I saw at the same event two years ago and was prepared for this time, remembering to bring my ear plugs, which was not a reflection on their quality, but rather their volume.

As entertaining as the bands were, and as beautiful as the 80-degree day was, I couldn’t help but imagine the chill in the air from the autumn breeze that will be here in a day less than three months. Nevertheless, I was heartened by the fact that, despite the complaining I hear from my suburban friends, there wasn’t a cicada to be seen or heard.