A young guitarist with a man-bun was playing, without amplification, where Colin usually sets up.  Given how hot it was, I was not unhappy to be forced into the shade of the Norway Maple.

“Have you got time for a hula today.”

“Sure,” said one of the 2 teenaged girls who stopped to watch me play.  She put a dollar in my case; I handed out leis to both girls, who hailed from Kingston, NY.

A mom came up with her camera and asked, “What are you doing?”

“We’re doing the hula,” was the answer.

Mom tossed me another dollar, and when I started the second verse of “The Hukilau Song,” she tossed in a third.  Blowing past my break-even in the first 10 minutes of busking was a harbinger of a good day.

A woman with a bright orange muumuu smiled as she walked past me toward The Boathouse.  On her return, she smiled again and laid a single in my case.

A family, consisting of mom, dad and 2 kids under 10, a boy and a girl, hung out by the fence to watch the rowboats.  With her back to me, mom started swaying to my music.  As they turned to leave, she smoothed out a fiver and floated it into my case.  A moment later, the young boy ran back to me with another buck.

When I counted out my money, there were $10 in paper currency, plus 1 quarter that someone had tossed in when I wasn’t looking.