Apple Blossom Time, Not

It's not apple-blossom time. The apples are round and green already. The Santa Rosa plums have fallen and I've made as much plum jam as I ever want to. The persimmons are like chartreuse nuts and there are many pears on a very old pear tree.

What is blooming in mid-summer in Northern California is music. As I become familiar with neighbors, I've found one who is an autodidact in the field of big band and jazz from the 1920s and 1940s. He began collecting old 78s when he was a teen and after a lifetime has a wonderful collection that still sound great on a turntable.

This is my mother's music, not my own. But when an apple tree is left growing strong in your backyard, I believe it's my luck and duty to take advantage of the sweet nutrition offered. People who come into my life often feel like these heaven-sent gravity blobs, not to put too romantic a spin on it. And so, I've commenced my lessons in 1920s, 1930s, 1940s jazz and big band recordings, tasting for the first time in all seriousness: Fats Waller, Bunny Berrigan, Helen Forest, Boots and His Buddies, the Boswell Sisters, Jelly Roll Morton, Jimmy Noone, Vera Lynn and many more.