Patterns in Nature, Beethoven, and the Art of Fuguing

     The harmonic overtone series is wholly natural, is it not? Air columns and strings (and planets, according to Pythagoras and Kepler) vibrate. The fundamental tones we hear most obviously include other tones—if your hearing is acute enough—comprising the entire diatonic scale we've been using to compose music since the 1500s and before. It could be argued that all the scales used in the world's systems of music come in some way from the natural system of harmonics arising from vibrating objects.

The patterns that fill pages and pages of western art music rest on this harmonic foundation. More music in that language continue to fall out of the sky and into my pencil whenever I show up to compose. A recent project is creating a fugue from a very simple progression of fifths. I did not begin this fugue consciously. I thought I was simply writing down some improvised counterpoint using the progression. But it turned out that the patterns of a fugue began to emerge on the page. I say “on the page” consciously because it isn't until I write music down that it begins its traverse from the accidental to the intentional.

     At this point in the project, what I have is a slightly tangled braid of three voices and three “themes” all of which fell out of that set of five descending fifths followed by an ascending major second during many improvising sessions. The six notes of the opening create a pleasing chord to my ear on my resonant piano in my reverberating living room. Arranged in a different way, the notes create something like a scale figure that comprises the second theme, and could be said to have created the third theme. I am consciously working at creating the fugue now. I work very slowly checking the sounds by playing them, using colored pencils to delineate the separate voices, writing in three staves so that I don't get too confused in my articulation of the ways these three themes can interweave and become one whole. My own will takes a kind of back seat in this work. I want to imagine it is akin to what Hegel meant by Scientific Cognition in his preface to The Phenomenology of Spirit. He says in paragraph 13 “Without such articulation {the former range of specificity of content} Science lacks universal intelligibility and gives the appearance of being the esoteric possession of a few individuals.” (Miller p. 7)

image by skeeze on pixabay

     All this cogitation made me remember my recent fascination with a mathematical reality (or is it imaginary) that has some correlates in nature. Some of you might think, given my history of obsession with it that I'm about to talk about Fibonacci. However, this time I'm talking about The Mandlebrot Set. Benoit Mandelbrot coined the word fractal. Jimi Sol made an explanatory video  about Mandelbrot sets—so named in tribute to Benoit Mandelbrot—that explains what is exciting about the ideas behind the beauty of fractals much better than I could. My trip down the rabbit hole also reveals Julia Julia sets and Fatou sets--also named for mathemeticians--and also responsible for creating beautiful fractal art and beautiful natural surroundings like coastlines and cumulous clouds. And believe it or not this trip down the rabbit hole acted a bit like a fractal in that it lead me back to my favorite mathematical toy: Fibonacci. 

     One idea that comes from all this work in imaginary and real numbers is that of self-organizing principles. That concept is everywhere these days from economics to ecosystems. This link will take you to a rich Wikipedia article about the ways we are coming to know that “design” does not mean a central intelligence is necessarily at work, no matter what Thomas Aquinas claimed. 

     Let me get back to the piano, though. I think these kinds of thoughts often when I'm deeply immersed in a note-learning project. I have had the luxury of that immersion these last few weeks in the company of Beethoven. Part of the upcoming Music as Meditation is a performance of Beethoven's violin sonata opus 30 number 1. It is a beautiful link in the transition between classical and romantic music. It's phrases are full of patterns with which one must grapple in learning the notes. As the little patterns become clearer, so does the pattern that governs the cohesiveness of the whole. My intuition tells me that there is something like an aesthetic sense of the order of reality that causes Beethoven (and maybe even to a small degree causes me) to choose just the right notes to fill each iteration of a phrase as it repeats within the structure of a larger piece. Sometimes my rational understanding can corroborate what my intuition tells me, but not always. Still, I always experience Beethoven's notes as just the right notes at just the right time. 

    There's more to mention, but I really need to practice! I could go on about how Bohuslav Martinů uses the form of madrigals to create a well-ordered whole from many voices. I could talk about the cross sections of walnuts and the form of whipens. I will leave this ramble here, though, and hope that many of you can come to Music as Meditation. It's at Christ Church in North Conway, New Hampshire on Sunday, January 5 at 5 PM. Admission is free. Together some of us are pitching in to take care of the Steinway piano at that church so we can keep gathering to share music. Please get in touch with me if you want to contribute to that care. 

Music as Meditation and Advent

Yesterday ten people shared a time of music and thoughtfulness at Christ Church in North Conway. The windows pictured here are from that church. The dark in between them symbolizes the time of waiting prescribed by this season in many religions. While I do not find any exact liturgy a good fit for me, I do appreciate a lot of the the ancient wisdom. In Music as Meditation I try to share some of my impressions of it. Certainly, I find wisdom in cultivating a spirit of waiting at this time of year as we watch the light go from our Northern-hemisphere world and wait for the light to return. 

The program included music by Hildegard von Bingen, a figure well worth study. She broke barriers in her world and left us with treasures for our souls today.

It also includes a rendering of the Lord's prayer from the original Aramaic that is the work of Mark Hathawaty and Neil Douglas-Klatz. You can find out more here.

I print the program here to share its words:

Music as Meditation

December 1, 2019

Impromptu in G Flat Major Franz Schubert

Playing this piece, with the right kind of attention, always calms me. Though there is drama in my interpretation, I hope it is a subtle drama, always related to the surety of key from which Schubert weaves this lullaby.

O virtus Sapientiae Hildegard von Bingen

O virtue of Wisdom translated by Nathaniel M. Campbell

who, circling, circled,

uniting all

in one living path,

three wings you have:

one soars to the heights,

one pours its essence upon the Earth

and the third flies everywhere.

Praise to you, as is fitting,

O Wisdom

Rendering of what we know as the “pater noster” Mark Hathaway

Mark Hathaway penned this rendering of the familiar “Lord's Prayer.” He used the scholarly work of Saadi Neil Douglas-Klatz. This rendering is not a translation, per se, but used the original Aramaic roots. For a thoughtful article about this prayer visit http://visioncraft.org/aramaic/intro.htm

O Silent Sound,

whose shimmering music pulsates

at the heart of each and all,

Clear a space in us where thy melody

may be perceived in its purity.

Let the rhythm of thy counsel reverberate through our lives,

so that we move to the beat of justice, love, and peace.

Then, our whole being at one with thy song,

grant that the Earth may be filled

with the beauty of thy voice.

Endow us with the wisdom to produce and share

what each being needs to grow and flourish,

And give us courage to embrace our shadow with emptiness,

as we embrace others in their darkness.

But let us not be captive to uncertainty,

nor cling to fruitless pursuits.

For from thee springs forth

the rhythm, the melody, and the harmony,

which restores all to balance, again and again. Ameyn.

Etude in E minor (Opus 28 # 4) Frederick Chopin

I am so grateful for the friendship of my piano students. Ann's graciousness in playing this piece delights me.

Christmas Card Tunes Ellen Schwindt

Pastorale for 2015

Light, Again

Lilting Melody (2018)

Pastorale for 2019 (mostly improvised)

Without really meaning to, I seem to have started a tradition of composing a little tune to put on a Christmas card at this time of year. It has been rejuvenating to revisit some of them.

Sonata Ellen Schwindt

I've finally brought this Sonata to publication. It took me more than two years to create so far. I keep playing it, perhaps I always will. Here is the dedication: for William Marvel, who calls this sonata “Five Months in Western Massachusetts.” I recently played this at a concert I shared with my sister, Cynthia Aramowicz. We both chose pieces to play quite independently. All the selections were of a kind though; they were romantic, evocative, and pretty. Somehow this conveys connection to me. I hope it does something like that for you, too.

Collaborating at Christ Church

Music as Meditation brings a Multi-Media Show 

to Christ Church

This season, the Music as Meditation series is every more collaborative than it has been. For our November 3^rd event, I've switched roles. I'm producing a theatrical/musical/visual art performance by a very interesting artist who goes by the name Barbara Toothpick. Ms. Toothpick attended a recent Music as Meditation and pitched the idea of using the event to stage her show. As soon as I began to read the script she sent me, I was a gung-ho supporter. Not only was the piece rife with humor of the most reflective sort, but she talks about raising worms. Any fellow-vermiculturist gets my full attention and I read on. This show is a reflection on so many aspects of life. I am looking forward to my role on the day of the show—as audience member. I hope many of you will join me. 

Some things about this performance remain the same as previous Music as Meditation events: It's on the first Sunday of the month at Christ Church in North Conway. There is no admission fee. We will accept donations toward the upkeep of the beautiful Steinway at Christ Church. The generous congregation of Christ Church is lending us the space and we are all hoping that attenders and artists alike will come away refreshed and ready for the next adventure life hands each of us.

Visual, Musical, and Theatrical artist Barbara toothpick will present One-Woman Show With Alan on Sunday, November 3 at 5 pm at Christ Episcopal Church as part of the Music as Meditation series. Featuring 17 costume changes, three life-sized effigies, and original music and paintings, toothpick’s show depicts her quest for what she can trust in an ever-changing world. Toothpick describes the show as “a romp” and notes, “It’s not preachy and telly, it’s showy and do-Eeeeeee!” It is directed and produced by Sarah Dalton-Phillips and Helen Swallow. Toothpick’s quest encompasses her reflections on the body, the solar system, poetry, visual arts, “the stern patterning of music,” her learning to become a team with mate Alan HorseRadish and raising children, and her view of all individuals. The multidimensional show will evoke “the delightful roller coaster road” she and Alan have traveled in pursuit of their artistic creations.

Working in the interface between painting (acrylic and watercolor) on triangular canvases, composing soundscapes with visual scores, and poetic writing of all kinds, Barbara toothpick’s work was recently seen in 2018 in a show at the University of Maine at Machias (with Alan HorseRadish). This year her work has been on view at Eastport Gallery, the Tides Institute, and Eastport Art Center. She currently has a book in the Philadelphia Center for the Book’s show at City Hall in Philadelphia. For the past three years, she has produced Play Theater in Philadelphia. Under the name Barbara Bodle Kirschenstein she earned BS and MA degrees from Ball State University.

While attending the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Alan HorseRadish painted large acrylic paintings but soon changed to watercolors, creating heavily saturated seascapes and faces. He has shown his paintings at the University of Maine at Machias, the Tides Institute, and many places in Philadelphia. Under the name Alan Kirschenstein he earned a BA degree from the University of Pennsylvania.

The show is part of the Music as Meditation series coordinated by Ellen Schwindt and hosted by Christ Episcopal Church. Admission is free, but donations are welcome and will go toward the upkeep of Christ Church's beautiful Steinway piano. For more information about the show or the Music as Meditation series contact Ellen Schwindt at ellenmschwindt@gmail.com.

A Month of Steinways

     Steinway is synonymous with heaven to many pianists. A Steinway piano offers a player luscious bass notes and clarity in the treble and the ability to sing out melodies all across seven octaves without effort. In short, Steinways are a joy to play. 

     In the coming weeks, we have two opportunities to hear the voices of two beloved Steinways, played by a variety of classical pianists. The Little White Church in Eaton is home to the Steinway pictured above. That church is currently organizing a fund drive to replace its steeple and take care of its beautiful piano. Two pianists from the Portland, Maine area are visiting to help with the effort and to share their musical talents.

     Mark Rossnagel and Tina Davis are the pianists. They will perform a program of dazzling and deep piano music there on September 26^th at 7 PM at The Little White Church in Eaton, NH. The program features beautiful works of deep feeling that span the centuries and ask for virtuosity from the performer. Mr. Rossnagel will perform solo on the church's piano. He holds degrees in organ performance and piano performance. He brings precise playing and a singer's understanding of melodic line to his solo playing. He'll play selections from Bach's "Goldberg Variations" and Liszt's "Leibestraum" Number 3. He is joined by Tina Davis, a pianist of lyricism and clarity, in duo selections from Ravel's "Ma Mere L'Oye" and Rachmaninov's “Slava.”

     Before the concert, at 6:00 PM, Mark and Tina will share their perspective on preparing for big performances with interested pianists and piano students. Ellen Schwindt of The Davis Hill Music Studio will host this event. Admission is by donation and supports the musicians and The Little White Church's steeple renovation and piano fund. 

     Then on October 6th at 5 PM at Christ Church in North Conway, NH listeners can attend the first Music as Meditation of the season.  This first Meditation revolves around the magic of chamber music. My friends Judith English, and Jenny Huang-Dale join me to share a Beethoven trio for cello, clarinet and piano. I'll be playing on Christ Church's Steinway of the small, clear, voice. This instrument will be great fun to play in the context of a dramatic Beethoven trio. It's reserved nature might make the task of balancing a little easier, but it will reveal the power in its depths during some of the forte sections. I'm also planning to share a Schubert Impromptu (Number 3) and a new piece in E major that isn't quite finished as of this writing. The Steinway at Christ Church could use a little tender loving care to prolong its ability to sing out the way we want it to. If you are interested in getting involved in some small-scale restoration of this piano, please get in touch with me.

     Through some inspiring instances of synchronicity other artists are now centrally involved in providing more Music as Meditation events for the fall season ahead. On November 3, an artist who goes by the name Barbara Toothpick presents a piece of interwoven theatre and music called "One Woman Show with Allan." Then on December 1st our beloved Nancy Farris performs an organ recital on the beautiful Cassavant tracker pipe organ at Christ Church in North Conway.  Follow this page as a way to stay informed about these performances. You can also receive my e-mail notices by contacting me at ellen.m.schwindt@gmail.com. I look forward to sharing some spirit-filled art with you in the coming months. 

     The Tamworth Farmers' Market began the practice of doubling patron's SNAP/New Hampshire EBT dollars four years ago. People who might not otherwise have access to healthy fruits and vegetables, grown by local farmers, can access great food and experience the interwoven community of the farmers' market. This program is supported by donations. Our project has two goals. The first is to raise $500 toward the support of this project. The second goal is to raise awareness about the program. Along the way we will offer the soulful experience of shared music.
     A string trio with connections to Tamworth has been preparing a concert of chamber music called "Feast for the Soul." The trio is Chris Nourse and Amy Berrier, both long-time Tamworth residents and community organizers, and Ellen Schwindt, long-time participant in the Tamworth community, even though she is from "away." They will play music for two violins and viola, for piano and violin, and piano and viola.
The concert portion of our project takes place at St. Andrews in the Valley on Saturday, July 20th at 5:00 pm. In accordance with the spirit of the project, the music will be offered as a gift, with no admission fee charged. Attendees may make a donation at the concert to support this program.
      A GoFundMe campaign makes it easy for people to support this campaign without needing to attend the concert. You can find the campaign by searching for “Feast for the Soul” on GoFundMe.com. We hope you come enjoy the music AND make a donation to support your neighbors in buying healthy food and creating a healthy community. All of the Funds raised through GoFundMe will go to the Tamworth Farmers Market SNAP doubling program.
     Thrivent Financial has already contributed seed money that we will use to provide St. Andrews in the Valley with a building use fee and to tune the piano. The trio has contributed many hours to preparing the music and producing the concert as well as materials costs like poster printing and program printing. 
     We are excited to contribute our energy and spirit to this project. It is a realization of the truth that we are all connected and that our community is stronger when we all have access to the bounty of the earth. We welcome your support and are grateful for the many ways our friends and neighbors help us weave a strong community web.

Water in Spring

flow all around us

Here at the end of April, I am daily grateful for the water flowing around me. I like the smell of the wet air and the rush and gurgle and sight of the river testing its banks. We all learned about the water-cycle in school--somewhere around second grade or so; we drew pictures of rain falling, running downhill, collecting in streams and rivers, and making its way, at long last, to the ocean, only to be evaporated and start the cycle all over again. 

image from Vecteezy

Of course it is so much more complicated than that. Yes, there are mountains and rivers and the ocean, so easy to represent on an info-graphic. In real life there are boulders and hillocks and bogs and plants and roads and pavement and houses and surfaces of a semi-permeable and impermeable and a very permeable nature along with everything in between that have a say in where the water goes. 

Just one month ago, our field was still covered with about 2 feet of snow. That's a lot of water. I've been enjoying watching it melt, listening to it melt, and following it's paths in my garden and woods. As I've mentioned in previous posts--all that snow we received over the winter could mean freedom from hauling water next fall. Our spring has run very low several times over the last few years; so low that we've had to rely on hauling water. 

Last summer, when we were preparing for a dry autumn, I read a book called Rainwater Harvesting for the Drylands and beyond by Brad Lancaster.  It changed the way I looked at my garden beds. In the book Mr. Lancaster suggests donning a raincoat and boots to traverse the land when the rain is actually coming down. I've had plenty of opportunity to do that in the last couple of weeks. Watching this water course down the hill gave me ideas for reworking my garden patches with hugelkulture swales to catch and store the water as it flows down the hill. Hugelkulture is an example of planning without worry; knowing there will be dry weeks at the end of summer, we plant on natural sponges that retain moisture over these dry times. It's a hopeful and realistic outlook. On many days of hydrology explorations I didn't quite stop at the edges of my growing plots and found myself in the woods following the path of the stream fed by our now-overflowing spring. On several occasions, I went armed with my hand-held recorder. The result is a return of improvising with the birds; I'll be playing along with the sounds of forest rain, streams gurgling, and spring birds singing at Music for Meditation. 

A place in our woods where the water
gurgles unseen under the ground

One amazing aspect of this is how much water one can hear on the move even when it's not obvious to the eye. This particular pile of wet leaves sounded like a rushing stream. Walking over the ground in these woods is not quite straightforward; there are downed trees and boulders and hillocks of unknown origin on every turn. The water makes a quite slow path down the hill, and much of it simply soaks in--an ideal situation for the trees and other plants of the forest. Though it might not rain for all of June again this year, there is water now and it is being held in the reservoirs of all that detritus that the forest stores on its floor. It will be there when the trees need it all summer long. 

All this thinking about water jogged my memory about a scientific field of inquiry. Some scientists have found evidence that water is changed structurally by the substances with which it has come into contact. They've demonstrated that water can transmit information about these substances through electromagnetic signals--a kind of water-memory. I learned more about this fascinating vein of investigation by watching this documentary about Nobel laureate, Luc Montaigner. 

Since I've spent about the same amount of time on agricultural and nature observation as I have practicing, I'm especially grateful to Judy English and Sue Reid for playing at Sunday's event. Judy and I will play a piece by Cecile Chaminade called spring. It is full of sounds of running water and birdsong to my ear.  Sue will share some very cheerful Schubert and a lovely rendition of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata: the Sustenuto opening movement. That beloved piece of music proportedly received its popular title because it reminded a listener of moonlight reflecting off of Lake Lucerne. 

Music as Meditation will take place on Monday, May 5 at 5 PM at Christ Episcopal Church in North Conway. The event is offered in the spirit of a gift. I hope to share the spring spirit with many of you. 

Spring is Here

if you know where to look

       

     I went for my usual snowshoe today. The sun on my face felt warm. The water pooled behind the back shed door was beginning to navigate its daily phase change from solid to liquid. I found more patches of bare ground in the woods than I saw on my last ramble over this forest. 

            

          Some of these patches persisted all winter, even during the snowiest times, in places where liquid water flowed on the warmest of days. Now they are growing. I imagine that the forest creatures are as glad for them as I am--or maybe more glad, since they provide water, I'm sure, for deer and fox and such. 

          

           I am always glad to see the evidence of flowing water. Last month I posted a picture of our spring house nearly buried in snow. The snow is mostly still with us, but there is a clear stream-bed running downhill from the spring-house now. The progress of a month is evident in the percentage of brown and green showing in this photograph. In another month, there will only be little piles of snow and the forest will sport its new green leaves and early forest flowers.

     

     These small signs of spring turn my mind in the direction of windowsill seedlings, garden improvements, and that expansiveness only experienced when the temperature outside stays above freezing for weeks at a time. Even though my field is still covered in snow more than three feet deep, I am planning for summer. 

  

      The trees are planning too. For years I've been enamored of the looks of the Moose Maple as it prepares for a summer's profusion of large soft leaves. That particular shade of red and the smooth arc of diametrically opposed twigs decorated with fecund dagger-shaped buds and precise scribes always makes me stop to look deeply. 

      Then there are the beech trees. Hanging on to the parchment of last summer's leaves, they wrap their new spring green in tight golden spears. The cold spring breeze ruffles their paper-thin old leaves to make the most gentle sound. What better example do we need of enjoying the present while still preparing for the future without worry? I can't imagine the beech trees in their profusion worrying about what is to come at all. I can imagine them looking forward to the color combinations possible when the gold spears open up to the green-laced-with-red wet leaves, giving way to the clearest green of all, followed by the most valuable gold in the forest. Ubiquitous, but lovely, beech trees have much to teach us. 

   

      I am studying their lessons as I prepare for the next month's Music as Meditation. April 7th brings another opportunity to share my music with listeners in the quiet of the sanctuary at Christ Episcopal Church. I'll be playing one of Edvard Grieg's lyric pieces called "To Spring" and showing off a perky little polka-etude for piano. 

     

          Cecile Chaminade gave us an Elegie that I'll play to honor those trees long gone from the realm of the living, but still feeding the forest around them. I'll share some ideas for a new set of etudes in each major key and some themes from a string trio I completed in the past month. 

           

          It has not only been the forest reminding me of my connection to other beings this month. I experienced the fun of sending out one of my recent compositions to violinists I know. Three of these lovely people wrote back to thank me for the trio and to assure me that they would share it. Already 20 people have downloaded it from the International Music Score Library Project. 

    

          That success tapping into the web of us all, along with those trees preparing for the right moment to bring the world their leaves, leave me with a kind of optimism too rooted in reality to shake. I look forward to sharing it with listeners on Sunday, April 7 at 5 PM at Christ Episcopal Church in North Conway, NH. 

       

     

      

Music as Meditation Resumes

Sunday, March 3, 2019

Our spring house looking from downhill. I am grateful for the water security 

all this snow will bring us next summer. 

As  March approaches on the calendar, I'm looking forward to sharing reflections of a very snowy winter at Music as Meditation. That series of contemplative music and words resumes on Sunday, March 3 at 5 PM at Christ Episcopal Church in North Conway, NH. I have new music of my own to share, along with a student-teacher duet, and some images about the arc of life gleaned from my woods on Davis Hill and my experiences over the last few months. 

I've been traversing my little bit of woods on a pair of silly plastic snowshoes. I purchased these snowshoes at the ESSC ski sale in the fall of 2002, when I had yet to experience a New Hampshire winter. They were inexpensive and I thought my kids might use them. It turns out that these toys are my current favorite snow accouterments. They allow me access to my beloved woods despite 5 feet of snow on the ground.

     The first snow of 2002 came on October 25th--a fact I remember because it was my son's 13th birthday. I remember his joy at that first New Hampshire snowfall. I'm not sure he retained that joy in the first snow as he gained a few more years and more experience of North Country winter from the working end of a snow shovel. Now he lives in Colorado where he can enjoy winter without needing to shovel much since snow there usually melts directly after falling.  I say usually because I recently experienced the joy of walking through his snowy Colorado neighborhood with him and his dog Lucy in tow; as we made our way around the lake near his house, I witnessed sparks of that eager child still residing in my grown-up boy. 

I arrived in Colorado from my hometown of Salina, Kansas, chauffered by that really-rather-mature young man who is my son. He picked me up from my parent's house where I'd been trying to help my very competent mother recover from knee surgery. I say trying to help, because she had made such preparations, and there were so many solicitous relatives around that nobody could help much, but we all enjoyed the family fellowship and rehearsing our shared heritage through stories, knitting, cooking, and music. 

After that refreshing time with family, I found myself home and sitting at my beloved Chickering. I almost didn't know how to begin, but I reached out and played a resonant E flat chord. What came next can only be described as a gift; in one sitting, this etude fell out of the sky and into my hands. I'll be playing it at Music as Meditation.  

My friend Ann Strachan will join me for Arvo Pärt's Spiegel im Spiegel. This piece never fails to smooth over any ruffled feathers I have and make me aware of the essential peace subtending our temporal existence. Ann and I, who are age-mates, have spent some time talking about this peace as we've prepared this music and enjoyed sharing life stories. 

    

Though it is true that we cannot transcend our time of life, we do have the ability to experience something of the eternal through our reflections. This season, I've been contemplating trees and how those beings exist in the eternal cycle of growth and decay. You can read a photo poem called Amid The Forest by clicking on the page by that title on the right-hand side of this blog. 

     

     

Salina Meditations

    Tomorrow is the first Sunday of February. I had planned to return to my Music as Meditation Schedule, but priorities I often forget to pay attention to caused me to change my mind. I am spending some time in my hometown--Salina, Kansas, instead. Don't come to Christ Church tomorrow. I do hope to be back at the Steinway in beautiful North Conway on the first Sunday in March. In the meantime, I'm engaging in some Salina Meditations.

    Today is a beautiful spring day; I know the calendar does not indicate spring on this groundhog day, but the temperature and the humidity do. If I lived here, I would be tempted to plant some peas today in the hopes that I would get a very early crop. The air is rich with moisture, the sidewalks are wet, and the ground smells like Kansas. 

     This morning I played Mary Had a Little Lamb on the piano in my childhood living room with grand-niece who is seven years old. She just had her first piano recital, shepherded into this experience by my sister who is also a piano teacher. Later today, my sister and I will likely make some family music. 

     Every time I visit my family and this town I am grateful for the strong heritage the "accident" of my birth gave me. I drew my first breath in a musical family living in a musical town. I began piano lessons even before I could really read words, making music a language as natural to me as the brand of English people speak out here, giving extra vowels to many syllables and making a breathy sound at the beginnings of WH words. I even heard my mother say "strip-ed" (two syllables!) yesterday. 

    So instead of a Musical Meditation this month, I offer you a photo meditation of my hometown. I just wish you could hear the accent embedded in the photo captions. 

Yes, Grain elevators really do look like that. 

You can't really see the mural painted on the glass windows that top this Art-Deco warehouse in the North end, but they always remind me of the art classes I attended in those warehouse buildings.

I'm fascinated with this old warehouse building which belonged to the Lee company. I've taken many artsy pictures of it over the years. This is the latest.

This is the bike bike rack stationed at the City's new "Field House."I love its self-referential nature. 

And this is home.

I'll see you all in March. Several people are planning to play with me. We'll have some violin and piano music, and some flute and piano music. Who knows what else the Kansas light and landscape will inspire.