Day 636: Cello

Celloooooooooooo! I have found a cello. I'm currently hiring it. It's a big, chesty creature, dark in colour and big of voice. It is, as Greg commented, a perfect balance between masculine and feminine, certainly in its shape, possibly in its sound too. It has the capacity to bellow and to croon, to shock and to soothe. It has character, I'll give it that.  Thank you, pond lady M, and Nicky, for putting us in touch.

I'm still a little bit wistful and gently in love with Ehrentraud, my Austrian beauty, darker and more feminine, curious and subtle. She was the first cello I hired from Ealing Strings and such a fine instrument. I suspect this one may be 'better' than her, but she still has my heart. 

I have been lent a bow while the one that came with it gets all haired up again. Mongolian  horsehair, so it goes. All this may seem crazy - I'm little more than a novice, scratching away at the instrument with the best intentions and minimal skill - but for whatever reason, each cello's distinctive sound sings to me in a totally different tongue. The pleasure doesn't come if the cello isn't 'on my wavelength'. The second cello I had from Ealing Strings - definitely a he, never got a name - had a harshness to his tone and a brusqueness that never flowed with me. I didn't love his voice, shape or colour. It's nothing to do with quality, it seems. Valued at the same price as Ehrentraud, with just as good a bow, but not for me. And the factory cello I stayed in a house with left me completely cold. It just didn't seem right. 

Now, I'm no real connoisseur. I don't know what I'm talking about in cello terms, but I know what sounds and feels good when it's played, and the cello I devote my learning to needs to be one of those, one I can't wait to converse with. This one is almost there - a good acquaintance so far, possibly to be a friend. Neither lover nor soulmate, but a good, solid creature, and very lovely. 

I laughed at a woodpecker yesterday. Beautiful, it was, and hoppy like a frog. It was green like moss and grass all interwoven on its back, but once the wings were wide, a flash of neon yellow showed itself. The red throat pointing to the lifted black beak. Graceful and bright, and awkward too. I cooed at crows. Big, loping ones. Shouty and invisible ones in trees. Swoopers. I've made way for a coot. It was heading for the steps at the pond. I was in the way, evidently. I moved for it and spooked it, but the thought was there. 

Lovely meet with David today, whose surname I don't even know yet, but with whom I may go and live at some point in the future. Not just him, and that's the point. A whole family of unrelated kin. I am excited and, as always, thankful. 

And thank you, Rob. The Grundel. Very good to see you after all this time. Good to scratch surfaces together, and to be curious and honest. Good to make time and be interested, and to spend time and money in beardy cafes. Some things never change while some evolve. Both present here. 

There's so much more, from warm, good food and secret salad picked at in a cafe from within a plastic bag (like a drunk swigging from a paper-bagged bottle). Dill, spinach, parsley, avocado! From treating avocados like leprosy leftovers for years, I've finally learnt to like them, almost love. There's love on the horizon for us. We're still getting to know each other's ins and outs, but there's genuine affection growing. I'm grateful. We're going to be good for each other. We'll make waves.