As times change–fashions, cars, viewpoints, so does music. Music and rhythm are at the core of our very existence. Think about it–the rhythm of days and night, of seasons, the weather. Even the way we walk and talk has a certain rhythm and every voice has some sort of musical quality. I’ve read that […]
Jan 26, 2019
A Return to My Gallery of Art
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This is a re-run. I’ve posted it before. Sometimes, in all the chaos of horrific news stories, and feelings of frustration, it’s nice to do something that’s completely different, that is just for fun. In no way do I claim to be an artist, so please don’t think you should say nice things about these […]
Jan 24, 2019
Stern, Thorough, Memorable
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He was stern, thorough, and I still remember him after a distance of several decades. He was a short man, fairly round with a thatch of white hair. He was born and raised in England and he spoke with a British accent. His name was Mr. Stone. He was my first piano teacher. Every week, […]
Jan 23, 2019
When Winter Was Memorable
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It’s cold this morning. You may live in parts of the world where twenty-three degrees would be considered a heat wave, but I’m not. I live in NW Arkansas and it’s cold! Rain that surely must be ice is on the streets, a dusting of snow like spilled flour, drifts across grass and pavement. I […]
Jan 21, 2019
Moonlight Can Be MIghty Mysterious
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Snowlight from below, moonlight from above made a fairyland of the street, turning it into a silent, shimmering, unfamiliar place. It was like a pathway to tomorrow or, maybe, to yesterday, away from the mundane into the marvelous. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see an elf or a leprechaun dancing from tree shadow to […]
Jan 19, 2019
Spring or Winter or Something Else?
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Yesterday the temperature was not bad; it was windy, sort of like spring. Last night, a noisy thunderstorm blew in and now? Snow! The yards are covered with white. Will it continue? Only time will tell. It’s interesting to watch and snow always makes things prettier. It also makes driving more treacherous. Nemo left little […]
