It was another warm, overcast day.  Acorns have started to pile up against the curbstone.  At the chestnut tree in Strawberry Fields, blackening chestnuts are distributed sparsely through the blighted branches.

When I got to Bethesda Fountain, Colin was strumming for a man who jumped around with his camera, photographing him from every angle.  “I got ten bucks here,” the man said, “if you guys will play something together.”

“Happy to,” said I, taking out my uke.  Standing next to Colin, I asked, “What key?”

“’Sweet Caroline,’ in D.”

I put on a capo and strummed along, getting maybe 1 in 5 chords right, and when we finished I fished a fiver out of Colin’s tip box.  “It was bound to happen sooner or later,” he said.

“I’m afraid I’m not that good at transposing on the fly.”

“We’ll have to work on it,” he said, “but not now.”

Colin packed up, while I set up and started playing my own repertoire.  A young woman from Sacramento danced the first hula of day, followed by 2 more northern California girls.

A man, wife, toddler and au pair hung out on the bench.  From time to time, the toddler would run toward me, then turn and run back.  At one point, she got close enough for me to dangle a lei in front of her and ask if she’d like to dance.  The au pair encouraged her, but it was not to be.  The parents, however, dropped $2 in my case as they left the area.

A 50-something man from the bench sat through a few tunes, then donated $2.  A couple from Kazakhstan danced a languid hula, then walked away, followed by a Lebanese couple who gave me a dollar.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”

The woman did.  After the dance, she did not want to give me back the lei.  “How much?” she asked.

“Two dollars,” I said.

She opened her purse.  “I already gave you one,” she said, pulling out a second single.

The final 30 minutes of my set drew one more man from the bench, rounding out my take for the day at $15.