Cure for the season changing?

August 13th, 2014, 8pm

It was 19°C. The breeze was gentle.

I set Mozart’s Divertimento no 17 on repeat and cranked the volume up a bit higher than is perhaps polite in an apartment building. I poured a glass of Black Wine from Argentina, hoping a saying from my student a in Innsbruck still holds true ” Wein auf Bier das rat ich dir; Bier auf Wein das darf nicht sein!”

I just returned from a delightful supper with a dear friend at a new brew pub in the heart of the tourist area next to the Big Lake. I confided to the waitress that after two beers I might have to walk my bike home the last mile.

( Damn! Some kid at the marina across the street took started very loud lawn mower. Have his parents not taught him any manners: no grass cutting before 10 am nor during Twilight? And he just doesn’t get to it and finish the job. He stops and starts… I hope the a pull starter on his mower breaks! )

So I crank the column higher to enjoy Morzart’s lilting phrases. Into this I opened your latest Hi Moment.

You mentioned the coolness ‘that speaks of seasons changing’. Ah….. yes! Mozart tells me to keep the windows open in this time of changing seasons despite my twinge of grief lilting over a ground of mourning. Thanks!

Sanna, Christine and Shu said thanks.

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Ken Jackson

An avid outdoors man. Retired and retiring, living on the shore of Lake Superior

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