louise on the left (coast)

Brattleboro, Vermont. A town where the word freak no longer exists.  Not much here ever seems odd.  Somehow things seem acceptable here.  No matter what. (Cue music:   Radiohead.  Weird Fishes .) A truly Neptunian depot. There is a central parking lot, named Harmony Lot, where everything, since I first saw it back in 1968, has actually in been in harmony with zen-like acceptance to what chooses to roll through this particular crossroad. I get out of my Boston car rental and hear random notes of music floating around me. I am jet lagged.  As far as I can see from this block-sized parking lot, there are only coffee shops and art galleries. And suggestions of music. And I say to my kid Why do I keep hearing odd music? She says because, there's wind chimes.  Wind chimes in a parking lot? I look up. Indeed, there are wind chimes. Huge ones.  Duct taped way up in a tree in the middle of the parking lot someone has duct-taped a set of enormous low-toned wind chimes. O