"Un Bel Di"

Before I heard the aria, "Un Bel Di," I thought it was a funny name for a boat. I am not an opera buff. I can hum a bit of Carmen and enjoy many of Puccini's melodies even though I can't hum or name them, but Un Bel Di from Madame Butterfly can and does stop me in my tracks.

As I type this, I have used the power of my computer to deliver Mme Butterfly into my office. Since I am alone in the house, I have turned the volume up so that the sound swirls and snuggles into the dusty corners and lingers in the sunshine from the window overlooking the garden.

Please listen for yourself if you do not know it. If you do, take a moment to re-remember. I pass it along to you in the hopes it brings you as much joy as it did when my friend shared it with me. Not the simple, absolute joy of a child, but the mature joy of someone who as my daughter recently wrote of an elderly friend "had learned to find the joy in moments." It is a powerful and poignant mixture. Can Mme Butterfly, alone with her vision of loveliness sustain it against the odds? The aria has all the fragile beauty of a flower, a cloud, a bubble on the water--all the more precious for its ephemeral nature. Is Mme Butterfly a fool or the wisest of us all to hold to her vision?

That is my convoluted way of saying that today is one of those rare treasures of sun and soft wind. I have worked in the garden all morning in the company of my cats. I stopped long enough to put some arnica on my aching muscles, get a bite to eat, and think about my far away friend and Mme Butterfly and our fondness for moments.