The day the music...paused

"You don't miss your water, 'til the well runs dry." One of the many things I love about Oaxaca is the music that seems to be a constant here.  Brass bands are everywhere from the city's streets to the most remote villages.  The house I live in overlooks a vast area.  It is in the foothills of one set of mountains and I can look across a wide valley to the next range, miles off to the west.  Normally, I can hear these bands playing or practicing, as the sound carries remarkably far.   I hear music for danzas, fiestas, weddings and funerals.  Many pieces are recognizable and traditional and then there are the absolutely kick-ass tunes that make you want to jump up and move. I've been back from self-isolating in MA to doing the same here.  There is much work to do, so I spend most of the day outside and I've not heard one note since I've been back.  Of course, I've always believed that anything that goes in your ears is music, I still have the birds, the winds and the sounds of everyday life as a soundtrack, but I sure miss the music.