Hand and Band

Yesterday, I donned my red-black jacket for our walk. Heaver than a windbreaker but lighter than a winter coat, it seemed the thing to grab for mid-fifties weather. I also wore one glove a la Michaël Jackson — on my heft hand that holds the cane, because it would be continuously exposed. The other hand, I could shove into my pocket at will.

It did get warmer before we were done, largely from sun warmth more than temperature warmth. 

As we continued past the bridge we began to hear music.

We got closer and saw and heard the bagpipes. This is just a few second clip.

I took a few snaps from a distance. The photos were awful with distractions, so I extracted two of the musicians from their compatriots and composited them into a cheesy image. It's terrible, but I unashamedly reveal all here. Well, maybe not all, but I reveal much — both the good and not so good.

A street was blocked for for a march by the three bands, but we found a space on the grounds behind the Legion building where people were gathered and there was seating available. The three bands took their time marching, each finishing its song and march before the next one started. We couldn't see very much, not enough to bother with photos, but we could see some and hear well. It was an unexpected pleasure on a Sunday morning.