This morning, lying awake before rising, I heard the haunting, minor key trill of a Varied Thrush. I’ve been hearing them for several mornings now. They are passing through in migration, and in a few days I won’t hear them. The birds that one sees during migration are ephemeral, yet predictable through the passage of spring, and it comforts me to know that it is the Varied Thrush time now. In a couple of weeks the madrona tree will be full of Wilson’s Warblers, their song a hurried trill that sounds like they’re singing through clenched teeth. Then they will move on.
The street was full of unfamiliar cars, and the neighbor’s house was pulsing with the beat of many fiddles. Sue was hosting one of her occasional ceilis for her musician friends, and they were racing through Scottish and Cape Breton reels. Sue is a well known figure in the Cape Breton scene, and she brought to her tiny living room a group of accomplished musicians to play together. I sat in the middle and played the only instrument I know how to, my camera. I adore the sensation of sitting inside the tunes, hearing music all around me and through the floor. It is the most blissful feeling I can achieve, short of dancing to it. Sue’s friend Cil showed up late, with her sound board for dancing upon, and added her step dance percussion to the mix. Now I truly felt the music through the floor, as the house was literally shaking.
I had my laptop with me too, so after I filled both 1 gigabyte cards I downloaded the images. The computer sat on the kitchen counter in slide show mode during the dinner break. Later I sat on the floor in surround sound, made a selection of the best shots, converted them to jpg, and burned a disc for my hosts. 
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