Ten-Finger Exercises

Falling leaves and other miscellany

As I was sailing along on the highway toward work yesterday morning, I caught sight of something in a field in my peripheral vision. It looked as if the field were filled with brown, burlap bags. I thought to myself, no, it isn't onion season still; and no one grows potatoes along here. I just caught a glimpse of it, and then a long windbreak cut off my view. This morning I paid attention and watched for that spot. It was a wheat field sheared as short as a crew cut. When one of the 'burlap bags' raised its long neck, I realized I was looking at the backs of hundreds of geese feasting on wheat. They were bumper to bumper!

I'm still trying to think of a way to describe the sensation of standing in the chancel of the cathedral and having that glorious sound of pipe organ, french horn, trumpets, trombone and drums surrounding me. It was fuller bodied than any cabernet, deep and booming, lavishly resonant, infiltrating ever pore and atom.