Although I've put in some hours on a contract project, made a few jars of jam, and kept up with the usual domestic chores, with the weather so cool, I've mostly just wanted to curl up with a comforter, quietly turning pages, reading. And while I've managed plenty of that, yesterday brought a different kind of interlude.
A friend had done some repair work on an old violin we've had poking around here, and when he brought it over, he also brought his own. Not only did he bring it, he played an entire concert for us --
outdoors, of course, complete with the requisite social distancing.
It was pretty magical looking into the trees of our mini-forest while the music drifted over us. And maybe doubly magical for me, as the book I've been immersed in, Greenwood by Michael Christie is permeated with such a deep understanding of the forest and the interrelatedness of the trees that abide in it. It feels as though I've been living and breathing trees all week. Not a bad feeling at all, especially when accompanied by a private concert.
And now, I am hearing that there are violin concerts across the US, commemorating yet another man beaten to death by police. Devastating.
2 comments:
How idyllic - friends and neighbours playing in the forest. Aging has allowed me to appreciate the gifts of friends and their arts.
Dear Janet,
Aging is something we've been doing since we were born, and it's something we'll continue to do for the rest of our lives. But yes, it was special having a young guest present a small concert for us. Idyllic is a very good word to describe it.
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