This was the trip of things we thought about bringing, didn’t, wished we would have (a jacket, a flask, an EZ-up canopy), but in the end didn’t need anyway.

In a pinch, a pint will stand in for all three, despite the rain, and once the music starts, that’s all we care about.

The sensory accompaniment of drops tapping your skin, soaking your hair, adds layers of memory to the experience.

Still, as the sun battled the grey clouds, gaining sky inch by inch, the crowd surrounding Angus Mohr’s stage blossomed like a slow unfolding flower.

Families made up the petals of this festival crowd.

Grandmothers sang along with kids in their teens, parents relaxed, basking in a shared afternoon, and a kilt-wearing baby toddled between the dancers kicking it up to songs like “Killiecrankie”and “Ring of Fire.“

Enough Angus regulars were in the crowd to shout, “You Bastards!” when “Whisky in the Jar” killed Kenny– even without the usual set up from Paul.

By the time the band sailed into “Barbary Coast’s” urgent drums and atmospheric guitar, the blue sky wore cloud wisps like trophies, until the “Watchtower” medley reconciled the day’s waning light.