Sunday, July 15, 2018


I’ve started listening to the CBC. I’m new to radio. I’ve come to love the opera on Saturday and the Sunday choral concerts—all the programs that play classical music. I can even enjoy some of the contemporary music. But it’s the programs that have annotated playlists like Shiftand My Playlistthat I like the most. The stories add to my enjoyment and understanding of the music.
Yesterday morning on My Playlist, James Campbell, a clarinetist, played music and told stories that enthralled me. He was warm, modest, human, accessible, inspiring and funny—his story of driving home from rehearsals with Glen Gould were hilarious. And you should hear him play jazz clarinet. What a guy!
(It’s funny but listening to him I decided he was a big man with wild grey hair and that he’d be old—he had so much experience. But when I looked him up on the Internet to read about him, I discovered he is lithe and younger looking than I expected.)
I was enjoying his show when bam—a bird flew into my glass door. I was ruined. I cried for the little thing. Sheba ran to it but I pulled her away and watched what I thought must be death throws in the little songbird. After about fifteen minutes, it hadn’t moved at all so I got some paper towels and went out to retrieve its lifeless body. I planned to do it honour.
It immediately jumped up onto its feet; it’s head turning left and right. My relief made me cry all over again. Later, my sensitive soul was rewarded: I happened to be looking at my little friend again, checking on it, when it rose and flew away.
At 5:30 pm, it was thirty-two degrees outside but it’s splendid and cool in my house and studio. It’s heavenly indoors at Pinecone Park.
This morning it’s the community dog walk after half an acre of watering. Gardening is a lot of work! Some days I can’t find the Zen of it; some days it feels like a burden. I water everything by hand so as not to waste a drop. The Rhodo, the only plant here when I arrived, is visibly thrilled to have a doting parent; I’m sure she’s been through some brutal summers. She’s a survivor and I am her reward.

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