|still from Brooklyn Rider tiny desk concert|
Been listening to a lot of string quartet music. Even writing that phrase — string quartet music — means I am able to sit still more, at least for enough time as it takes to write it. The Brooklyn Rider boys, some with beards and all, slot into the whole artisanal hombres with brains movement, aka Mast Chocolates: serious, able to spend nights alone in a cabin somewhere, pondering how to best rehab the Strad found at a barn sale.
|Lee on a hike stops to kill a stick again|
Ergo the antler collection, coming soon to the shop.