![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Slipped away.
Every so often, there's bagpipes in New York. Today they were down below the Riverside Park promenade, on a section left alone with shaggy grasses and tall weeds creeping along the stones, overlooking the Hudson River. Bagpipes are an instrument that needs something as grand as the Hudson to really work. The player was almost done with his set when I arrived, biking along, and I stayed a bit longer to hear him work the mouthpieces and what I guessed was tune the pipes themselves. When I realized he was done, I kept on biking.
On my way back, though, I saw him walking along, case in hand, and made sure to get his attention and tell him how much I'd enjoyed what little I'd managed to hear.
Also on the ride was an active wasp's nest and a swallowtail butterfly, both of which were wonderful to stop and watch for a while, and it was the surprise of the bagpipes - coming up from below, seemingly out of nowhere - that made the ride worthwhile.
On my way back, though, I saw him walking along, case in hand, and made sure to get his attention and tell him how much I'd enjoyed what little I'd managed to hear.
Also on the ride was an active wasp's nest and a swallowtail butterfly, both of which were wonderful to stop and watch for a while, and it was the surprise of the bagpipes - coming up from below, seemingly out of nowhere - that made the ride worthwhile.