Intermission at the Overture Center.

Outside, there's a mist. The state capitol is enveloped in fog.



Inside, they've projected snowflakes on the wall:



On the night of the solstice, we're reminded of the cold depths that we are not experiencing. But we're here for the concert. It's the intermission, and we're milling around:



We're all here...



To see... Who are we all here to see? What singer would -- just by walking onto the stage -- make your humble diva blogress break down and cry?

It's Judy Collins.