I watched the rain stop around noon, strapped on my ukulele and headed out into a light drizzle.  I’ve been away so much this summer that even a bad day in the park was still pretty good.  The dog roses were a glorious red, sparkling with rain water, but otherwise I noticed no new plantings.  One lonely pedicab driver was bent over his cell phone.  The button sellers did not come out today, nor did the guitarists at the Imagine Mosaic.  A few intrepid tourists in clear plastic ponchos wandered the paths.

The blight has browned most of the chestnut tree near the path.  The second chestnut tree deep within Strawberry Fields is also showing signs of blight.

Except for a production company filming an ad, Bethesda Fountain was quiet.  The crew was waiting for the director to return; he’d gone for coffee somewhere to wait out the rain.  Shortly after I started my set, 3 girls from Manchester stopped to examine my solar-powered hula girls, which, despite the overcast sky, still managed to operate.  I soon had a lei around one of their necks, and off we went to “The Hukilau Song.”

After the dance, they walked away.  A little girl stopped to hula.  Her mom gave me a dollar, then the Manchester girl came back with a dollar and change.  A well-coiffed woman of a certain age, in a stylish tomato-red pants suit, walked by and emptied a purseful of change into my case.

A trio of wise-ass teenagers bopped around as they walked by.  I was singing “That’s My Weakness Now,” and had come to the lyric about baby talk: “I never cared for baby talk, but b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b, that’s my weakness now.”  One of the kids burst out laughing, turned back and rewarded me with a buck.

A woman walked by and dropped a couple of quarters; she would not hula.

A dozen or so Canadian high schoolers lined up for a hula.  I saw a few bills go into my case, but mostly coin.  I got more coins, from a little girl, a teenaged boy and an old woman.  People were flocking back to the park.  Although still cool and overcast, the rain was over.  The director had returned and was barking orders.  I had about 10 minutes left in my set, but the crew didn’t know that.  It occurred to me that someone might pay me to shut up and go away, as has often happened in the past.

A toddler wanted to dance.  I found my half-lei, especially for small heads, and dad put it on.  The kid, however, would not dance.  She cried.  Dad hoisted her up, fished a dollar out of his wallet for me, and carried her off, with my lei.

All around me, the film crew was pushing wagons piled with lights, electronics, wires and whatnot.  It would probably be an hour or more before they’d need silence.  I counted out $12.05, far more than I’d expected in this weather.  I packed up and went away for free.