Drum in the wild
I have played the drums on and off since I was ten years old, the same age as Seb, and have a small collection of drums from when I lived in Zimbabwe as a child. We took one of these drums deep into the woods so that I could give Seb a lesson.
It really matters where you are when you do things. I have a hardwood drum that is rich in deep carvings that tell a story of Great Zimbabwe. It sits in our living room where it feels ornamental and Seb struggled for a while as he watched me get it into position in the woods. Cocooned by autumnal branches and with the sun going down, I showed Seb how to make different sounds out of the goatskin that formed the head of the drum. For both of us, the sound of playing the drum outdoors in the woods transformed the instrument and our connection with the woods. Our drumbeats filled the air in a way that our ancestors did for thousands of years, but which to us is still relatively unusual. While we have explored woods looking for everything from leaves and mushrooms to woodlice and wild cats, by wild drumming we both found a new connection with each other and the woodlands around us. I am not sure the local wildlife was overly impressed though.