The end of the peas

The peas are done now.  It hit 97 degrees on Friday, and that was too much for them.  They like cool weather.  Gentle sun.  So now I will have to watch the tomato plants grow, I guess.  It just isn’t the same as peas.  Tomato plants have a funny smell to them, and your hands feel chalky after you pick anything from them.  I don’t know why that is.

The big event of this week was the arrival of a harpsichord in our living room.  Yes, a harpsichord.  Our friend, Jean Janzen, has had it sitting in her living room for years, but doesn’t use it.  So when I inquired, she generously agreed to let it migrate to my living room.  It needs some fixing.  And tuning.  I guess they always need tuning.  The little manual that came with it says that Bach used to spend at least 20 minutes tuning a harpsichord every time before he played it.  And I think I’m about to learn exactly what a well-tempered clavier is.  There’s something about tuning certain intervals outside of smooth, and others inside of smooth, and you’re supposed to listen to the beats when you play an interval.  I didn’t know there was such as thing.  But now that I read about it, I can kind of hear the waves of beats when the interval isn’t in tune.  Huh.  And I thought you just listened to the notes while you turned the peg and tried to make them sound right.

Now I have visions of having a little baroque concert at our house.  Very little, as the living room isn’t very big.  The neighbor next door mentioned that she wanted to learn to play a Brandenburg concerto on her violin.  I could play cello.  Joseph could play recorder, maybe, and perhaps our renter, Joungmin, could play the harpsichord.  She could probably tune it, too.  She has perfect pitch.  That probably helps.


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