For Radish King

Was flipping through the latest issue of Harper's tonight, trying to catch up on my reading, and noted there was a new story "Fiction" by Alice Munro. I read this bit and thought of some of Rebecca's posts regarding music lessons and students.

She felt herself shedding the day's work, which was harried and uncertain, filled with the dispensing of music to the indifferent as well as the responsive. How much better to work with wood and by yourself--she didn't count the apprentice--than with the unpredictible human young.