The hospice center, which we moved my mother to last Monday, contains seven beds. Helen’s room has wide French Doors which open to a courtyard with song birds, flowers, and even bunnies grazing on those flowers.
Last evening I watched robins bathing in the nearby bird bath. Not indulging in dainty dips, mind you, but more like our dives into the cold lakes of Maine – fully submerged, a leap to the shore and then “a whole lot of shakin’ goin’ on.”
One of my mother’s many friends, Sarah, came by at night to play her cello. Emphasis on cello. Sarah asked for requests, and the first arrangment to appear on the barren wasteland formerly known as my brain was the Pachelbel Canon. Johann Pachelbel’s most famous piece of music originally written for three violins and a basso continuo. She did her best. (3.8MB Quicktime)
This (3.7MB QT) piece Sarah played without first consulting the peanut gallery.