Returning

Coffee in the amorous (the polite way of putting it) bunny mug, Sam eating seeds and my father drinking coffee for music. The doors are open to let in the cool Montana morning breeze, and the loudest noise I hear is the refrigerator occasionally kicking on and humming. The absolute quiet here is startling. There's no doubt I have become acclimatized to living three doors down from one of the busier streets in Atlanta--and having my studio nestled close to the same street. It's a street where cars and trucks provide a ceaseless bass note on which all the other city sounds build. Heck, even our birds are noisier--even with the windows closed and a well-insulated house, the finches, cardinals, sparrows and all the other neighborhood birds raise such a racket starting as soon as it gets light that it's impossible to sleep through! I think the sheer absence of background noise woke me here this morning (that and the fact that it's two time zones later than Atlanta.)

The video is my panorama from my parents back deck this morning. Thank you to George Winston for the song "Returning" from Forest.

Away from the studio, yes, away from work, no. The Buyer's Market looms inexorably, and the website cries loudly to be updated. Today I check in remotely with Bill, Becky, and Stacy about the status of the studio and BMAC prep for the week (and worry at their heels like an amped up terrier). I also contact Patty and Dinah Hulet with a proposition that I have had no time to get to them for over a week now. Later, a leisurely kayak on the lake with J and my Dad while Mom lounges on the dock in the sun. Ah, Montana.