Little Screwball Errors and other stories

Maia: "My nice, warm, clean bath towel.
You're not allowed to take it away and fold it."

* * *

"You're very graceful when you direct."

Laughter—I've practiced in front of the mirror, and it's possible I'm overdoing the aesthetics. "It's those seven months of ballet I took."

"Well, it helps. You don't need to be so nervous, you know."

"Oh, I'm nervous, like, ninety-five percent of the time, anyway."

"Yes, I know. I can see that. I used to be the same way."

"Oh, good! You mean it's possible to grow out of this?!"

"Yes. You just have to get to the point where you realize it doesn't matter. Like this; it's just the music for one Mass, at one parish..."

This week's cantor took the time to encourage me after choir practice, and his advice applies to a lot more in life than my mind can take in at once.

As it turns out, directing is splendid fun. Worth pushing through the nervousness for. And our choir is made up of fantastic, supportive, good-natured people, which helps a lot. I still have plenty of opportunity for major mistakes on Sunday, but the practice was both humbling and affirming. Sometimes it's hard to remember that it's possible to make little screwball errors, blush and falter, make something of an idiot out of yourself, persevere, and still be loved.

* * *

I've always loved standing beneath a ripening cherry tree.

And for all it's more or less out of the gardener's control, especially when said gardener forgets to go to pruning class and therefore doesn't do anything: there's something so satisfying about seeing trees thick with developing fruit.

Actually, Lou and I did prune the cherry tree.
But I didn't dare take loppers to our gorgeous old
apple tree without instruction.

Another thing this gardener had nothing much to do with: the neighbors' wild rose is growing up into our snowball bush, and I'm not about to stop that.

The day lily is in its first bloom, which is especially exciting as I had no idea what color it would be. I like the rusty orange.

Elderberry flowers are startlingly beautiful, as is that flax, and the red bark mulch I spread last Saturday is a pleasant improvement on the cat's ear and clover that were attempting to fill in the blanks before. ;)

Lastly, here's one of my early summer thrills: the sweet pea vines finally poking up through the rosemary.

* * *

Music of the week: When I walked into church for choir practice, our accompanist was playing a beautiful arrangement of a favorite old hymn I hadn't heard in forever. I asked him about it when he finished, and while I didn't positively catch the arranger's name, I think I've tracked down the right piece. Anyhow, it's lovely.



* * *

Today still needs to include housecleaning, dinner prep, a count-through of Sunday's music (my right arm is really feeling the workout), an errand to the fabric store, the making of a pan of brownies for tomorrow's family picnic in Eastern Washington (ten hours of driving and five hours of small talk all in one day, and then having to be up on time and mentally present for choir the next... yeehaw), and, if possible, scrubbing some spilled currant jelly out of the refrigerator. I'm off.

Happy weekend!