Music
It
was early in the morning. I had promised to tape some music for my
brother, so I went to my record collection and selected a dozen albums
or so. I didn't want to wake the others still asleep, so I sneaked
downstairs carrying the CDs and the tape recorder with me. I opened
the door and went outside to the backyard. I quietly closed the door
behind me.
In
the glare of the morning sun I spread the CDs in front of me on the
terrace and switched on the tape machine. I considered various options
for the choice of songs. Jussi didn't necessarily like the same tracks
as I did, so I couldn't completely rely on my own taste. I looked
for high-quality tracks while trying to remember which ones he already
had. I made a number of alternative lists and played portions of the
songs to remind me how they sounded. My intention was to include a
wide variety of styles but still retain a coherent unity. The songs
should flow one after another without there being too much attention
to the changing of the performers. On the other hand I wanted to avoid
the tape being too smooth, since that could be boring.
I
had already recorded a number of tracks when I started to question
whether they were too sleepy. I rewinded the tape and thought about
new alternatives. There were so many choices that it was hard to decide.
Sitting on the terrace, my muscles got tense and I started feeling
frustrated. Almost an hour had passed and I wasn't very far yet. Streching
my arms and legs I tried to get some fresh ideas, when the door opened.
My father stepped out with his pajamas on. He yawned and rubbed his
eyes.
"Good morning," I said.
"Good moring. What are you doing?"
"Taping music for Jussi."
"In the backyard?"
"I didn't want to disturb the others."
My
father sat on a chair but soon got up again. Barefooted he walked
on the grass and looked at the flowers. I continued taping and counted
that another five tracks would fit in the A side. I considered Groove
Armada and Jazzanova when my father asked whether I had noticed that
there were fruit trees in our backyard.
"Fruit trees?"
"Yes, we have our own organic farm here."
"Where? I haven't paid any attention."
"Over here. Come closer so you'll see."
I
stood up and walked to the plantation. My father pointed at the trees
nearby. They were full of red and yellow apples. Next to the trees
there were grapevines and other species, which I didn't recognize.
"Look
at these flowers," my father said, "here among the grapes."
I looked at the peculiar leaves and stems that spiralled upwards.
At the end of the branches there were myriads of red and violet flowers.
"These are from India," my father explained. "They
have both a decorative and useful purpose, living in a symbiotic relationship
with the grapevine."
"In what way?" I asked.
"The one provides nourishment and the other keeps away the insects.
As a result there is no need for fertilizers nor pesticides. This
is a completely organic way of farming."
The
grapes seemed juicy and delicious. There were heaps of them among
the leaves. The fruits glittered red and ripe, still wet after the
morning mist. I felt like eating them straight from the bushes.
"Try
these apples," my father said. "They're just as juicy as
the grapes." My father grabbed two red apples from the tree and
offered one for me. "These too are completely clean," my
dad advertized. "No remains what-so-ever of fertilizers nor pesticides."
"There's no need for washing them?" I asked.
"No need. Just bite."
My
father took a big bite of his apple and crunched it loudly. I looked
at my fruit and noticed that there were white streaks on the surface.
"There are bird droppings in my apple. Don't you think it would
be best to wash these first?"
"Why? Good apples."
"But you could get a disease out of the dirt."
"Nonsense. That's all organic too."
I
looked at my apple with suspicious eyes. My father had almost finished
his and I saw that his apple had white streaks too. But if my dad
didn't care about it, why should I? Maybe he was right. It was, after
all, pure product of nature.
Taping
music in the early hours had made me drowsy and hungry. Washing the
apple right now would have been too much of a burden, so I simply
bit my apple.
My
father was right. It was very juicy and tasty.
