I walked in the park taking pictures of trees. Two people played euphonium horns. Languid unison melodies and marching in step. Their tuning slipped in and out. It started to rain. Water wet my camera. The people stopped playing their horns. I went home to set down my camera. I went out with my recorder and umbrella. The rain was falling and the smell of petrichor filled the air. The people were back at their horns. It wasn’t as good as it had been but maybe it would be. My batteries died. I went to the store and bought two double As and some cigarettes. I put them in the recorder. I don’t smoke, but I wanted the hint of euphoria it occasionally brings. When I returned to the park the horn players were gone. I heard their echo from far away. I walked around the ravine with wide open ears. To no avail. A squirrel allowed me to get very close to its place on a branch. The sky was a million grays. I saw a red house and a gigantic Japanese maple. Heard firecrackers and the call of a thrush. Then it ate a worm. I wanted more pictures but the camera was gone. Even my phone was at home. And it was off. The rain came down and the sun came out. A rainbow emerged in the east. I went back for my camera and back to the park.