Marry in haste…
Originally published at Examorata. Please leave any comments there.
It turns out that sometimes, in the first blush of infatuation, you don’t always make the smartest choice. Your eye is caught, you are entranced, and somewhat blinded to the imperfections which - it must be faced - are inherent in so many things. Take a beautiful piece of handiwork, let’s say a lovingly hand-carved hourglass mountain dulcimer with a charming frog carved on its headpiece. You see it. You play it. Even as the helpful person behind the counter points out the hand-carved wooden tuning pegs, you are forking over your credit card as you gaze in bleary happiness at the heart-shaped sound holes.
Yet sometimes the veil is lifted from your eyes mercifully swiftly, if painfully. Say, after three and a half hours of tuning and two broken strings. It hurts you to say it, but you look that little frog carving in the face and you say, “Baby, it’s just not working out.”
Last Tuesday I took my sweet little frog-carved dulcimer back and said, “Let’s look at this another way.” The guy at the Appalachian Bluegrass Shoppe was understanding and sympathetic. It just so happened there was another previously-owned dulcimer there, cherry wood, butterfly and vines motif for the sound holes. It has a lovely tone, a wider fretboard for ease of fingering, and oh so importantly, geared tuning pegs.
Not only is it easily tunable, it doesn’t quickly go out of tune either. It’s a joy to play, and sometimes I’ll just sit there and make stuff up. I’m not writing songs, heck no, I still barely have any idea what I’m doing…but I’m making friends, I think. I fell too hard, too fast for the first dulcimer. This one, I keep hoping, is gonna last.
Also, the cats like that I’m playing music again. Or I fancy they do. Desmond used to nap on the guitar while I was playing it, when he was a tiny kitten.
