Lake Merrit never fails to provide an interesting backdrop for a run. Be it morning, noon, or dusk, there is always a diverse cast of characters hanging out on the welcoming benches, feeding the far too a-plenty geese, or just ambling along the restored paths. Occasionally, I witness extraordinary events in a place punctuated by out of the ordinary.
Take Saturday evening. The sun was setting as I hustled around the lake, trying to beat home the company I had coming over (inspiration to run faster, I’m telling you!) when at the arches on the east side of the lake, there came a jazzy tune. Yes, a solo saxophonist was silohetted in the sherberted skylight, courageously gracing the neighborhood with his music. I jogged in place to listen and catch his eye, offering him a thumbs up before I kept trotting around.
As music seems to follow me like a red balloon, yet another instrument story took place this weekend. While watching cars anti-whisk by on the Golden Gate Bridge, there seemed to be a live horn being played in the vicinity. My boyfriend attempted to hustle us back down the path we had come. but I pulled away and stared intently at the road. This watchfulness was not in vain. A second later, a mini-van taxi pulled into view, the driver playing what appeared to be a piccolo trumpet out the window of his cab. And he had passengers in tow.
A piccolo trumpet! I’m in love.