The weather has been dreary for a week, and this morning promised the same. I wished it would clear up, and then it did. A lot is happening in the park. Never mind the bulbs, which are glorious, the growing green tips have appeared in the tree branches; the gingko is already in full leaf. Past the Imagine Mosaic, there is a lone chestnut tree, which looks great in the spring, but by July is plainly stressed by the blight. At the moment, its spikey blossoms are already 4 inches long. Elms, also blighted, have produced their fluffy clusters of seeds; over the next few weeks the elm seeds in their aerodynamic envelopes will land in my ukulele case and cling to the velvet lining.

They’ve put a fence up along the path, so Nick is gone. I should now have Location #2 to myself for a few weeks at least, until the reseeded sections of the lawn take hold. I set up as usual. The park is quiet. No rowboats on the Lake. Small groups of tourists with guidebooks walk by.

“Aloha, got time for a hula today?” A young woman from France did; so did a young Italian. One dad gave me a buck, then junior wanted to also, so I got 2 bucks. A large group from Wilbraham Mass came by. The leader told me they were on a tight schedule, then 10 minutes later another large group from Wilbraham came by and couldn’t have been more eager to hula in the park. Go Titans.

At one point the god awful honk of Canada Geese split the air, and from the west came 2, then 2 more enormous fowl loudly splash-landing in front of the Boat House, to the delight of the outdoor diners. While I sang I kept an eye on them. First, they climbed up on the rocks and challenged the picnickers there, then they flew back out to the center of the Lake and performed some loud mating dance of death, or so it sounded to me.

Two Korean girls stopped to hear me. One said, “I too play the ukulele. No, just beginner,” she said when I handed her my uke to see what she could do. I offered again and she took it. She sat on the ground so she could manage the tenor uke and sang a beautiful song in a sweet wavering soprano. The chords were simple, yet still interesting. She stopped and gave me back the uke. “That’s all I know,” she said.

Which for all of us is a good place to stop.