There are times to work and times to relax and absorb the serenity of the cabin. The hours spent on the deck were many and captivating. Particularly, when in total solitude-meaning no one is around to complain about my harmonica talent (of which there is little), I will retire to the deck and share what melody I can with the quietude of the lake. Often as not, a soft southwesterly breeze makes its way bringing a soothing accompaniment.
On more than one occasion, I have tarried on the comfort of the deck while watching the full moon come up in the East, ply its way through the branches of pine and oaks, and settle in the West, beckoning the rising sun to bring morning twilight to awaken the new day. All the while rummaging through my worn bag of harmonicas and remembering melodies of years gone by.
I recall those couple of occasions as blessings, unplanned and undeserved, but blessings none the less. I occasionally open the harmonica bag and blow on a few of the instruments and recall some of the old melodies of the past, ranging from old ballads, folk, classical or Irish. It matters little. The technique hasn't improved, but the memories never go away. That's the blessing. It's a reminder that the beauty of our existence is not regulated by the clock or the calendar. Life's beauty is there twenty four seven, whenever we choose to turn it on. We, ourselves, control the switch.
