Nature is sometimes more fun in oratorio form than it is in real life, isn’t it? Having enjoyed Haydn’s Die Jahreszeiten the other day, I came home after being away for a week to find a spider in my sink the size of a silver dollar and a dead cat in my back yard.
The spider has been dispatched, but I am still thinking about what to do about the cat. If I had a shovel and an industrial-strength garbage bag, I’d hold my breath, put on the work boots and the cat would go into the bag and out for the trash collectors, which I am not is sure is entirely legal – there’s probably a ‘no carcass’ proviso in the municipal trash collection rules – but it’s not as if anyone’s going to look in the bag. (Or I guess I could bury it? But that would still require a shovel.)
I am leaning toward doing nothing and hoping it goes away. I don’t really use the back yard much anyway, and the cat is positioned such that I can’t see it from any of the windows unless I lean out.
To that end, I have been amusing myself listening to Renée Fleming singing Schubert songs. (It’s an album entitled simply Schubert Lieder, with Christoph Eschenbach on the piano; it was recorded in 1997.) The last time I listened to most of these it was via much older recordings by Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. In some cases, e.g. “Heidenröslein”, I prefer Schwarzkopf’s interpretation, which for that particular song is a little more mellow and restrained – but Fleming is not to be missed either. I haven’t listened to the whole recording yet, but I have a feeling there will be more to say about this.