Bassoon

Maybe it wasn't a bassoon I heard early this morning, just after I stepped out of the pool and was drying off in the cool, cool air.  Ghostly, deep, long, round, mournful notes, emerging from the dark recesses of the lifeguard staff room. There had just been a changing of the guard...

I do think it was a bassoon, because it reminded me of "Cougar Bassoon" on Prayer for the Wild Things by Paul Winter & the Earth Band, a musical celebration of the Northern Rockies, inspired by the wilderness art of Bev Doolittle.

I am under the influence of Ghostwritten, by David Mitchell, so this Fat Tuesday is definitely a Random Coinciday in the blog, and I am hearing bassoons and wondering how life and all its particles fit and don't fit together and "this wondering is the nature of matter, each of us a loose particle, an infinity of paths through the park, probable ones, improbable ones, none of them real until observed, whatever real means, and for something so solid, matter contains terrible, terrible, terrible expanses of nothing, nothing, nothing...."

I have observed the same thing about matter, and will now continue on my improbable path through bassoonland.