Musicians Willie and Owen Bays, ages 11 and 8, drew a crowd as they played Irish jigs and reels on a Seattle street corner back in 2013.

November! Definitely the month we begin to batten down the hatches and lay the hearths in preparation for the long dark days of winter. And from time immemorial, we have decorated and celebrated and sung our hosanas during this season of dormancy — a season so often associated with endings, sorrow, and struggle.

For centuries, one of our most universal counterbalances to the gloom of winter has been music. Whether a family sits around the wood stove singing hymns on a Sunday too blustery to venture out to church, or loudspeakers play songs of the season at the local supermarket, music accompanies us frequently through our darkest calendar days. And in recent years, the phenomenon of public music has become ever more popular.

Even those who must brave the tribulations of winter travel often find music in unexpected places — a flash mob in a Los Angeles Mall, a busker on a Parisian street corner, a piano player in a bustling airport, or a group of carolers in the Cotswolds. The pleasure of coming upon unexpected public music is almost indescribable. And, according to my musician friends, it’s very often a reciprocal experience.

Colin Staub who has grown up with one foot in Oysterville and another in Portland (and both hands on mandolin and lately, the piano), recently told me a few of his “public music experiences” — some right here in Oysterville’s Historic Church! When he’s in town, he often spends a bit of time there “practicing” the piano and learning some of the hymns from the old (rather musty) hymn books stored in the closet of Sunday School Room.

I had an encounter there one day not long ago, when I was practicing the hymns, Colin wrote. A couple came in and one of them began singing along with “How Great Thou Art.” He said he played music in a church in Oregon City. We ended up talking for a while. They really liked the Oysterville Church. Another time it was a group who had a house in Chinook. There’s certainly something about music, especially encountering unexpected music, that has an effect on people!

Push-Play Project

It was Colin, too, who wrote me early last summer about the dozen or so pianos set up in public places around Portland. I’ve been making the rounds to play them all. I was playing “Amazing Grace” and “The Old Rugged Cross” (the versions I learned in the Oysterville Church hymnal,) downtown the other day, and a guy came up and started singing along. He was visiting from Atlanta and said he didn’t anticipate hearing gospel music in downtown Portland! The hymnals are coming in handy!

When I asked Colin more about those pianos, he wrote that they are put around town by a project called “Piano Push Play” Wow! www.pianopushplay.com. (I’ve since learned that cities throughout the world have similar projects “in play” so to speak…) They get painted by local artists and placed in various places throughout the summer. It’s pretty cool and has been going on for 10 years or so. I’ve had numerous interesting encounters with people at the pianos, exchanged numbers, had impromptu duets, all sorts of things. Last year I emailed the founder about one particularly memorable conversation and she posted about it on their Instagram:

One in particular that sticks in my mind, where I sat down to play a few boogie-woogie songs and noticed a woman sitting nearby who was crying and clearly not having a good day. By the end of the first song, I noticed she was tapping her feet, although still crying. A couple songs later she came over to the piano and asked if I could teach her a couple chords, and we ended up having an impromptu piano lesson and talked about what she was going through. She said it was the best unexpected thing to happen to her all day, and I thought it really illustrated the power of public music.

But lest you think the enjoyment of playing and listening to public music may be limited to adults, I feel compelled to tell you about my friends Willie and Owen Bays who figured out early on that busking was a terrific way to make a little extra cash for something special. (I think Owen was saving for his first two-wheeler.) I can’t remember the particulars now — and neither can their folks — but I’ve always been intrigued that they drew an audience of their peers when they set up their impromptu band on a Seattle Street corner. A few minutes later, their dad captured them and a group of (very) young dancers on video — all having a fabulous “unexpected public music moment.”

So, while we may not embrace the dark days as fully as we do the other times of year, we can surely be on the lookout for those unexpected musical moments. Or better yet, perhaps we can become a part of them!