A lovely day to busk in the Public Garden. The temperature differential between the sun being out and the sun being behind clouds was surprising. I couldn't get my preferred spot by the Swan Boats, since there was an electric guitarist at the entrance to the garden and an accordianist on the world's smallest suspension bridge.

I overheard one woman talking to her companions, as they were trying to lure a squirrel closer. She said, "When you really look at them, they're not all that cute."

The Fiddler knows no seasons. If a small blonde girl asks me to play "Jingle Bells" in April, that's fine by me.

It certainly seemed seasonal at the time, as it was pre-heat wave, by which I mean 'round about last Thursday.