On the bright side. . .

. . .since the last day of the week has come, this is the last picture of a mountain you will have to look at for this week. This is looking more or less north from Tehachapi, on the very edge of town. Now this may not look like much, but it was a pleasant moment; it was getting ready to rain, and, to quote the ubiquitous Gawain "Each hill had a hat, a huge mist-cloak." It was all highly conducive to piobaireachd, which was convenient, since that was what I had driven out there for. As things ran, I went through my usual nonsense of warming up the pipes with light music until both they and my lip were a bit past their prime, then I tried through the ground of "The Little Spree," which I've been memorizing lately. It felt very, very good. It probably sounded a little less so, if cows are any judges. They had begun a pointed migration Away, the moment I started tuning.