Tears pouring – just listened to Dvorak’s Cello Concerto on CBC, played by Rostropovich: the swoops and flourishes, the haunting melancholy, the soaring finale – a magnificent piece of music, which I’m lucky enough to be going to see in a few weeks; my upstairs tenant works for the Toronto Symphony and has given me tickets for the Dvorak and before that, for Mozart’s Requiem. There will be many tears. Music like this almost makes me believe in humanity again, which is not easy these days, with potential war, catastrophic fires, vile politicians worldwide. Except New Zealand, Portugal and Spain, France, and Canada. Yay.
It’s finally full on winter here, cold and white, and I’m fighting a bug, the first of the winter, so far doing okay at keeping the encroaching aches at bay.
BUT – work starts tonight with my home class, ten writers coming for a potluck dinner and, of course, reading and editing. The table is set, the kitchen is clean, I just have to cook chickens and potatoes. And take a nap, so I’m alert.
Monday night, the Ryerson class starts, 12 registered so far, just the right number. I’m looking forward to meeting them all. U of T starts Thursday afternoon Jan. 23; it’s the advanced class, for those who’ve taken my class before, and it’s a go. The new work year begins.
The house is warm, the bird feeder has just been filled and so has my belly – pork from the Mennonites at the market in a leek and apple sauce, mmm – and the CBC is now playing Bach: does it get better than this?
