I love March but admit we're kind of worn down this time of year. My little fiddler has been sick though he did make it to his lesson yesterday and tried hard not to cough on his teacher. In the good old days on the Kentucky frontier and in the colonies, March was perhaps the least favorite month, per my research. After the long, lean months of mostly meat and bread and being cooped up indoors, March was known for illness. I used to wish I'd been born in the 18th-century but I doubt I would have lived beyond childhood. Through my books, I still get to go back but don't have to eat possum stew and spin flax and bathe once a year:)
Outside my windows the sun is shining and that March wind is making music with the chimes under the eaves. Time to haul all the homeschool stuff out (we took our spring break when company came) and get busy again. Paul is playing Old Joe Clark this week and learning a new bowing technique called the shuffle, perfect for square dancing. He played a Mozart duet with his teacher yesterday and it sounded heavenly to me. I wish I wasn't so musically challenged! He has his eye on the banjo next. I told him he has to get good enough fiddling to play a certain piece at my funeral (Neil Gow's Scottish Lament) and then he can take up banjo after I'm dead!
I finished reading through the pages of TFD last night and am going to start again in a few minutes. I've caught very few errors at this stage. And I stand amazed at the work involved in producing a book on the publisher's end! I don't need a Stephen King quote today. I have one of my own.
Those who criticize books have never written one. -Laura Frantz
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