Well, I heard the Antiphon music, in part. A few bars were pretty and sounded right, but others sounded wrong – and the greater part, the musician admitted he couldn’t decode. So I’m going to reach out to other sources. I’m sure I’ll hear this ancient music before the end of summer. And then I need to find a place that can frame the vellum and its mat properly, protectively.
Last week I went over to Brookview, the local public golf course, where I used to play in a league, to hit a bucket of balls. I haven’t swung a golf club for nearly two years, so this was wonderful. I remembered which end of the club to take hold of, and I sent the majority of the balls down the range – though none more than fifty yards. But it sure felt good, and I have set a goal of playing a nine-hole, par three game before the first snow.
This spring I was complaining that a hawk had taken at least two robins from local trees. Sad, sad, to hear their boisterous songs fall silent. But a friend in the north wing of our building said the hawks were a nesting pair – and that one of them has disappeared. She said the lone hawk has been searching for her, crying. And Thursday and Friday I saw her (or maybe it’s him and she’s the one missing) flying in high, widening circles for over an hour, calling and calling her plaintive “twee, twee, twee.” S/he is flying too high for me to see other than a silhouette, but I looked up hawk calls on the Internet and I think she’s a red-tailed hawk. Or he. They mate for life. I suppose it’s odd that I mourned for the dead robins (I actually heard one of them shriek as he was taken!), and now am mourning for the sad, forsaken hawk.