Today is Mother's Day. It is raining "cats n' dogs" and it is cold. Although the world outside our door is not inviting, the company and conversation inside our walls is warm and welcoming. Luna and Janus arrived with Janus' father, mother, and brother.
Sitting around the table, we enjoyed pancakes with freshly sliced strawberries and authentic maple syrup. The meal was delicious and the interaction lively. Janus' mother is a warm ,talkative woman who never fails to entertain, while all the while ensuring that everyone feels included. Time slips by pleasantly and easily in her company.
They all merrily climbed into their vehicle and set off to their next destination; we waved them goodbye from our driveway. After returning to the house, Attila and I made short work of the after meal cleanup. We have settled down to our respective domestic activities, Attila in the kitchen planning this evening's meal and myself in front of the computer tapping away at the keyboard.
Some time ago, I lived in a large Canadian city. One of the very best opportunities this afforded was exposure to street musicians and performance artists. Walking down a busy sidewalk in the city, one would often encounter an open guitar case or an upturned hat, accompanied by a performer. The level of talent varied, from painfully rendered cover tunes to riveting original performances. The worst music I have ever heard was on the streets. The best music I have ever heard was on the streets.
Where I live, this practice of street performance is called "busking".
These experiences create a taste for quality that cannot be satisfied by traditional performance venues. To stand beside a performer, to make eye contact, to personally offer one's appreciation for talent; these things cannot be experienced at a theatre, concert hall, or on a screen. In my opinion, no amount of production expertise can improve upon the magic of a good spontaneous performance.
Reading the latest entry in John Bailey's journal has led me to ponder the art of "busking". John has opened his case and offered his talent in the true tradition of bards and musicians. You can now "throw a coin" in to the open case to show appreciation for a recognized talent. This is accomplished via a small and unobtrusive PayPal Donate button at the bottom John's journal entry pages. One need not click on the donation button to gain access to the excellent writing found on John's site, but if you choose to demonstrate your appreciation, you can do so tangibly.
|RECIPES :: Cast
By the Easy Chair
Cry of the Wind
by Sue Harrison
On the Screen
The Man Who Knew Too Little
starring Bill Murray
Wind: E 17 km/h
Sunrise 6:04 AM EDT
Sunset 8:36 PM EDT
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