Over the weekend, we attended a concert
of Blue Grass Music. (the mandolin player, especially terrific) Music speaks to me in a way that nothing else does, it lifts me where I find myself lost in the moment, perfectly centered. This day is one filled with joy that my really good friend is recovering, the sky is bluer than my fence. the chicken topiary is trimmed, and I am getting a kick out of "What Einstein Told His Cook," by Robert L. Wolke. One more thing, dipping prints in Bees Wax and watching bees buzz my forest of Purple Cone Flowers is way cool.
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