Yesterday we had music in the house.
First in the voices of grandsons. Their daddy had started back to San Antonio on Sunday when Drew became ill so they turned around. Even with a fever, tylenol made him frisky enough to chase his little brother around the yard.
Second, in the birds and other sounds of spring on a late afternoon, as we sat on the porch enjoying gentle whiffs of air.
Third, sweet music from the workshop as Mike continued to finish a table he started several months ago. It's now stained and the first coat of finish is drying. I told him, "This is the best piece you've made. " He disagreed. "No, the NEXT piece will be the best piece." Sweet, indeed.
And finally, he cracked open a guitar case and fired up the blues.
There is healing in music. It warms the soul, certainly mine.