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Spring has sprung

 I wake up in the morning to allergies.  I’m so stuffed-up it feels like my face needs to be lanced.  We look outside the bus in the morning.  We’re practically parked in a pine tree. A closer look reveals the pine tree in full bloom. Lucky for me there is Claritin to get me through.  Nothing serious, Claritin helps, and it only lasts a few days.  It’s better already today.  In the afternoon, the weather darkens.It rains, hails a little, then moves on. Then it looks like this.Spectacular from the outside; tornado warnings underneath. Black billed magpies doing the dance in front of our bus.    
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The Anniversary Party

 We got some photos back. Old friends.   Cousins. Kids.  More kids.  Grandkids. Friends and co-workers.     The weather was cool and people were mostly inside, scattered throughout the house.  We didn’t get any crowd shots. A happy puppy. Flowers. Plenty of food. Anniversary Cake.  It comes with a story.  Matt took a photo of our original wedding cake to the cake maker.  He told them he wanted the anniversary cake to match the photo.  “Got it.  Make it just like the photo.”  Here is what he got back; a cake with a replica of the cake photo on it.The cake came out great. So did the party.  It was a very good time.  
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I’ve mentioned my guitar before

 It’s the same guitar I’ve had since I was fifteen.  It has been with me on the bicycle, riding back and forth between my house and the music store, for flamenco lessons.  There were countless hours of practice and folk songs in my room; the Kingston Trio, Harry Belafonte, The Limelighters, and even the Beach Boys.  There were shared songs with brother David, John B, and Dan Murphy.  There were even a few performances.  At a High School talent show, Danny and I brought the house down with “Blood on the Saddle”.  (They didn’t make us clear our selections before the show.) When I came home on leave after a year on Okinawa in the Army, the guitar went back with me, only to get sent to Viet Nam when I did.  The whole time in Viet Nam I never drew a paycheck.  What little opportunity there was to spend money was covered by someone passing the hat for me while the guitar and I played in the beer tent. When it was time to come home, there was no way to send a guitar separately, and nowhere to put it on the plane, so it rode standing up on the floor between my knees for fourteen hours.  After the Army, my attention wandered to other things for many years and it survived that neglect until I rediscovered it a few years ago.  My faithful companion is a little worse for wear.  Not that that’s a problem; we all have scars and blemishes. Well, my longtime friend John B; not only did he grow up to be the Red Baron, he also builds and repairs guitars now.  When I mentioned that my guitar was getting more difficult to play in its old age, he volunteered to give it a tune-up.  He said bring it by and he’d see what could be done to restore the action without compromising the rich tone and considerable character this instrument has accumulated. Yesterday, he brought it back, not so much good as new, but condition intact and noticeably easier to play again.  Another joy in life.