Tiny Scarecrow’s "Reflections on Musical Farming" (Heartwarming musical intro coming soon.)
05/08/2008 10:08PM (biscuit)
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Dateline – May 1st, 2008 Tiny Scarecrow sings with Austin Symphony Orchestra!
Wow, spring sure is a busy time here on the farm. Getting a crop of new melodies together to share with friends, watering the baby instruments (but not the brass – they’ll tarnish) and ... what else? There was something else … oh, yeah … MY BIG SONG with the Austin Symphony Orchestra!
Truth time. I actually WAS the one who hid your shoes. PLUS, I was a little nervous about my song with the Orchestra. Not nervous about singing, that part was easy. I know there are a lot of you out there who saw and heard me so maybe you couldn’t tell, but I had a little trouble with my hay-fever that evening. Yep, being a Scarecrow who’s stuffed with hay and allergic to hay keeps me pretty congested all year long but in Spring with all the beautiful plants blooming my nasal management issues triple.
My chief concern was that I would be singing my song with all those wonderful musicians and then I’ll feel an itch in my nose, and then the itch might turn into a twitch, and the twitch might turn into the largest unstoppable, tornadic sneeze the world has ever seen! And when the sneeze comes it might blow the flute player’s music right off her music stand into the face of the violinist. That causes him to throw his bow up in the air and it lands inside a trombone. But the bow gets shot out of the trombone when he plays his big note and it bounces off the bass drum, past the oboes and straight into the audience like a flaming arrow! Only, no fire. That would be very dangerous. And against the fire codes.
Wait a minute, nobody panic! I think my imagination got away from me there. If I’m ever singing with an orchestra again, I could just bring a hanky and cover my sneeze. Problem solved. Now back to work!
Be sure to check out the Wonderful Sneezing Song on the new “Musical Farm” CD.
Plus, I only hid your shoes under your bed; check there first.
