Leaving the public library yesterday, I heard fiddle music on the air. An elderly gentleman was sitting on a park bench playing an Irish jig. Toe tapping music that enlivened the day.
I have always wanted to learn how to play a fiddle. I even have my mother's fiddle, but she called it a violin. It is in bad shape which is really shameful. At least the strings were loosened before it was put away, but the bridge has come unglued. See it laying there: about the middle right of the photo. The bow is sad.