A Friendly Black Dog

On my evening walk a few hours ago, I met a man walking a medium large black dog. The dog nuzzled me, and then jumped up on me with enthusiasm. “He’s friendly, maybe too friendly,” I commented to the man, who then told me that the dog didn’t usually do that, and asked whether I had dogs of my own.

I told him that I don’t, although I had a beagle as my best friend growing up. He asked my name, and told me that he was Chris, and the dog was LeBron. He said that dogs are sound judges of character, so I must be a good person. (That wouldn’t account for some other dogs I’ve met being hostile or suspicious.) Chris explained that LeBron didn’t normally show such enthusiasm for people, but seemed to think I was special.

Anyway, I guess I have a new pair of acquaintances.

Farmers’ Market This Morning

At the farmers’ market this morning, one of the young men at the Twin Springs Fruit Farm stand told me that he planned to read my father’s book on Nietzsche. As background, he had told me on a previous Sunday that he was majoring in history and philosophy, and I had told him about my father (R.I.P.), a professor of philosophy. This morning, I commented that it was too bad that I couldn’t let my father know of his interest.

They often have live music at the farmers’ market. This week, while shopping, I heard someone with a lovely voice singing something like, “Lemons and limes make a bitter cider/Who knew that two hearts could be so much on fire?” Having bought what I wanted (including Twin Springs Fruit Farm cider, the first of the season, and much better than the supermarket version), I went to listen more deliberately, and tossed a tip into the container. A fresh-faced white woman sang some more, accompanied by a brown-skinned man playing the electric guitar (he may have been of Asian Indian ancestry, or perhaps New World mestizo; I heard him say a few words, and he spoke American English without a detectable accent). I got to hear some above average live music.