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fresnelly · 03-24-2007, 09:53 AM

One subdued February morning, I went for a walk in Toronto's High Park. I was deep into the winter-bare forest in the middle of the Park when I heard what sounded like a Cello tuning up; two clear notes pulled long and carefully, echoing through the trees.

There's an outdoor stage nearby so I figured that despite the time of year, there must be some sort of concert getting ready. I turned around to find my way over there but realized that the sound wasn't coming from the direction of the stage at all, but even deeper into the forest.

Intrigued, I followed the sound as best I could, occasionally having to stop and listen to regain my bearings. I was completely alone and aside from a few dog walkers, the entire park seemed empty. It was getting louder and I knew I was getting closer but still there was no one around. Where was the audience? What kind of Cello player would take his fragile instrument and hands out on a cold grey day in the waning days of winter to play alone in a forest?

As I got closer, I began finding it hard to pinpoint the sound's whereabouts. I eventually had to turn off the path, step over logs and through brush to follow it. Soon it seemed as if the sound was coming from everywhere and nowhere, all around me.

I was all by myself in a clear stand of oak trees, listening to those two strong and clear notes, pulled slowly and deliberately, over and over again; no Cello player to be found. I looked left, right, around, and then finally - up.

There, resting in the crook of a muscular tree branch, was a broken, slender branch reaching over to the next tree. As those two trees swayed back and forth slowly in the wind, the fallen branch was drawn across the other tree like a bow on a string.

I sat down, put my hand behind me in the cold, dry carpet of leaves and remained to listen.

03-24-2007, 09:53 AM	#14 (permalink)
fresnelly Functionally Appropriate Location: Toronto	One subdued February morning, I went for a walk in Toronto's High Park. I was deep into the winter-bare forest in the middle of the Park when I heard what sounded like a Cello tuning up; two clear notes pulled long and carefully, echoing through the trees. There's an outdoor stage nearby so I figured that despite the time of year, there must be some sort of concert getting ready. I turned around to find my way over there but realized that the sound wasn't coming from the direction of the stage at all, but even deeper into the forest. Intrigued, I followed the sound as best I could, occasionally having to stop and listen to regain my bearings. I was completely alone and aside from a few dog walkers, the entire park seemed empty. It was getting louder and I knew I was getting closer but still there was no one around. Where was the audience? What kind of Cello player would take his fragile instrument and hands out on a cold grey day in the waning days of winter to play alone in a forest? As I got closer, I began finding it hard to pinpoint the sound's whereabouts. I eventually had to turn off the path, step over logs and through brush to follow it. Soon it seemed as if the sound was coming from everywhere and nowhere, all around me. I was all by myself in a clear stand of oak trees, listening to those two strong and clear notes, pulled slowly and deliberately, over and over again; no Cello player to be found. I looked left, right, around, and then finally - up. There, resting in the crook of a muscular tree branch, was a broken, slender branch reaching over to the next tree. As those two trees swayed back and forth slowly in the wind, the fallen branch was drawn across the other tree like a bow on a string. I sat down, put my hand behind me in the cold, dry carpet of leaves and remained to listen. __________________ Building an artificial intelligence that appreciates Mozart is easy. Building an A.I. that appreciates a theme restaurant is the real challenge - Kit Roebuck - Nine Planets Without Intelligent Life Last edited by fresnelly; 03-24-2007 at 09:58 AM..