Day 595, Somewhere betwixt the rising waters of the Cumberland River and the murky waters of the Love Canal. As I set about this morn to careen the ship, ready my bloodthirsty crew, and recruit others to join us on coming raids to ruthlessly steal the hearts of music lovers from sea to stormy sea and the great lakes between, I notice a difference in the air, a sweetness not there before. What yesterday was wretched cacophony coming from the village is today a soothing symphony. In the taverns and the halls of government rancorous adversaries accustomed to slinging mud and hurling insults are pitching woo and blowing kisses. The walls of the city are being fitted with windows, doors, and welcome mats, and from the kitchens waft the scent of faraway spices and the laughter of cooks from all corners of the world. What appeared to be a battlefield before is now place for picnics, and the soldiers have doffed their bayonets for banjos. A red tailed hawk is bringing acorns to field mice, and starlings are teaching the bluejays to sing.
When I awoke today the sunrise was a far reaching red that lingered for longer, much longer than usual. Just now, passing the blacksmith, I see he’s pounding a rod into the shape of a heartland it dawns on me: February 14th, St. Valentines Day!! Everyone is in love!! Happy Valentines Day! . .