Wednesday, 4 March 2015

Gould comfort

It's March in Hades, which means veering from flash-freezes to freezing rain to slush. It was the last item today. I ventured out on the long afternoon journey to Bells Corners and was confronted with several shallow and not-so-shallow bodies of water, close to the curbs and overwhelming the feet of several driveways, effectively corralled by small walls of snow. One has to trek over squishy layers of grey matter to avoid ankle deep moats that cut across the sidewalks, while taking care to keep as close to the houses as the drifts will allow, because that ninth car in every ten will fail to slow sufficiently and one will re-learn the concept of water displacement in a curtain of salty filth.

I made it on to a bus with relatively dry feet, only to discover I had failed to re-synchronize my iPod when recharging it, so my music menu and assorted podcasts that help me through the hour-long trip to the outer reaches of Nepean were not available. This left me to choose between listening to the radio or contemplating my rich inner life -- the windows being too coated with mud to see out.

I chose the radio, and heard the middle of a piano piece with a voice humming along in my left earbud, so I knew it was Glenn Gould who was notorious for singing along with his nimble fingers. (Mind you, I also have a recording of the full score for Tchaicovsky's Sleeping Beauty in which you can hear, if listening on earphones, André Previn's "dee-di-di-di-dee" during the introduction to the famous waltz, so Gould was not entirely alone in this habit.)

I peered out at the passing Ottawa River, seeing someone cross-country-skiing on the snow-covered ice, ice-fishing huts near the Québec side, and someone else carrying what looked like large blue wings - all of these rather perilous pursuits in a thaw, no matter how temporary.

When I got home, I stumbled upon this:

Having someone in the house living on the autistic spectrum with a talent for music, I find I feel rather protective of Glenn Gould, even though he's far beyond needing anyone's protection now.

The temperature is plummeting tonight, meaning all those ponds will be miniature skating rinks.


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