This isn’t a posting about jazz, so purists are encouraged to turn over the leaf and choose another page . . .
But I have my computer set up near a large picture window in this country house we’ve rented in East Chatham, New York. And although my usual state of absorption in what I am writing about is near-total, twice in the last few days I’ve been distracted — happily — by something orange fluttering outside the window in a stand of purple flowers. The first flying insect I can’t identify; the second seems to be a wondrous butterfly.
The world is unfolding its beauty even while I’m writing about King Oliver!