In addition to the sights and sounds of autumn, there is the smell of the ginkgo tree. As I entered Strawberry Fields, it hit me in the face like a bag of compost.

The cowboy was packing up when I got to Bethesda Fountain; center stage was uncontested. The park was filled with people on yet another 70+ degree day. On the bench opposite, 2 elderly men were sketching. After a few songs, as they got ready to leave, one of them, shorter than me and slightly bent, with thick, curly, salt and pepper hair that may have been a toupee, came forward and handed me two $5 bills. Though I won’t say for certain, I think it was Tony Bennett. He said, “Very nice.”

A young Asian man, sitting on the rim of the fountain, gave me $1 when he left.

A young boy and older man, perhaps an old father or young grandfather, rested on the benches. When I finished the first verse and started the chorus of “Tiptoe through the Tulips,” the man perked up with recognition. At the start of the second verse, where Romeo and Juliet are used as transitive verbs, the man reached for his wallet and sent the boy over to me with a dollar.

A 2-year-old girl, dressed head to foot in orange velour, toddled over. I twisted the lei to double it, so it didn’t drag on the ground while the girl worked her chubby knees up and down in what we’ll call a hula. Another little girl wanted to go to the hukilau too, and soon the dancing babies drew a nice crowd of people, who ooh-ed and ah-ed as they took photos, a few of whom thought to tip the ukulele man.

Two young men each gave me a dollar. “Good job,” said one of them.

“Have you got time for a hula today?” The girl of 6 or 7 was just waiting to be asked.

“Yes,” she said, wide-eyed. With the lei around her neck, there was no stopping her. She ran and leaped in a wild, ecstatic burst of energy. She even did a few cartwheels. I asked her dad, when he handed over a dollar, if any of the furniture in his house was still in one piece, recalling the wreakage I created as a child jumping on beds and tumbling from sofa to floor in my own gymnastic enthusiasms.

Over the crest of the path came Marcel, with Maggie the dog. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen them. “We’ve been coming out later,” Marcel told me.

“Me too,” I said, which is why, of course, I was seeing them now.

With about 5 minutes left in my set, 2 men got off the bench and put $2 in my case. “Where are you from?”

“Slovenia.”

“I believe you are my first Slovenians,” I told them, shaking hands.

As they walked away, one of them turned to me and said, “You look like the man from the movie.”

Since I had no idea what he was talking about, I was forced to respond, “I suppose I do.”