Purple said I should write about it.
So I will.
It was so lovely out today and we enjoyed the walk and the talk. What I gain from friends, knowing I can say anything (but won’t, but I can) is not to be taken for granted.
And enjoying the weather, knowing it will change at any time. Spring is glorious.
So I took this with my phone. Do you see the twins?
I asked the mother here in the photo below if I could take a picture of her little girl looking at the tulips, but I was too slow or too polite. The little girl turned away. I still am very taken with the colors of their clothes. They matched the tulips. Do you think that was her fascination? More likely, the flowers were at her eye-level, so she could really examine their insides and outs. Budding scientist, perhaps? I loved that the mother was so patient with her.
This photo below is blurry. I know. Can you see the man in the full Scottish regalia, including bagpipe? As we passed the church, we noted there must be a funeral. They wouldn’t have a wedding on a Wednesday morning, would they? But everyone gathered outside didn’t seem to be sad. Just business-like.
After we were that far away, I thought it wouldn’t be as tacky to take his photo–thus, the blur. It was just about then that he started playing.
I just looked to find some information about why they play. Here’s one account of the obvious:
Many people associate bagpipes with funerals and this is because they powerfully touch our deepest emotions; the haunting voice of the bagpipe express feelings that words alone may fail to convey.
Purple thought it was (how did you put it, exactly?) maudlin. I thought it was very moving, quite dignified. And she agreed that it was, in and of itself, but the whole death thing is so difficult.
This was quite a while after our discussion about the ethics of where the Boston bomber should be buried.
What do we owe someone we love?
What about someone we cannot?
And is it time to pay the piper?