September 21, 2018

Equinox. Nevertheless, sweet summer evening. Good class this AM, saying goodbye to Blake. I mean to write a little and then go put the tools away that I left strewn over the lawn after today’s gardening. Much digging and mulching, much mulching of what was dug and planted earlier. The only new things into the ground are daffodils.

Jon and Simone and I seem to have got the commission lined up in a way that profits all. It always surprises me when working with composers that they will not start a piece until the funding is in place. I go ahead and write it, assuming I can use it for something else if the commission goes awry. My friendship with Frank Ferko almost ended because I didn’t understand this. I have paid too little attention to getting paid, and it has had consequences.

Choir camp tomorrow. I’d weep if I thought too much about it.

I leave for school when it s still fully dark. This morning there were odd sounds in the black mass of trees between me and the next house. I thought it might be a bear. If it was, it never came out of the trees. Seeing a bear in your yard is the end of a kind of innocence.