My Latin Bouquet

A cool morning full of promise. Ah, but the coffee tastes good. come on out to the back porch and watch the day begin underneath the the cherry trees

It clatters, it shakes it rattles and pops. The Old Jalopy comes sauntering down the street in a cloud of dust and a rhythm that make you think it might have the hiccoughs. It is a racket and a hazard and an eyesore to our town. But it owned by old Ms. Primbottom who has been driving it for 95 years and isn't going to stop now!

Put another pot of coffee on the boiler!   Have yourself another cup of joe. Then keep on drinking until your nerves are a tingling   and your foot just cant stop tapping the floor.

Gerluz floats us along through this lazy waltz like a stroll through a flower garden. a bed of petunias is followed by some peonies followed by daisies... and look over there they even have some cauliflower! Ah but a waltz amongst the scented air is a delight indeed

The Microphones were set up facing the cliff that defines the point. The river comes in on the right channel and meets the ocean vaguely in front of where the mics were placed... with the cycles of waves, the exact point moves 30 feet or so in either direction just as the water level in front of the mics can rise or fall 12 inches or so every 15 minutes.

Frogs have an interesting culture. They may not produce as many scientists as, say, newts... but they can jump much farther and are known to be better dancers. Frogs are pretty good singers too. ...As long as you keep them away from Puccini, there is nothing quite like a spontaneous frog chorus.

The future is here at last   upload your mind. Neurons are the past.     Singularity

Gort seems to be on a phone theme. First with Selfie and now with this current song... I have to admit, it would make a good ring tone.

Gort Braggern makes his Chicken House Records debut with the song Selfie. Gort is expanding Chicken House Recrods into new genres with drum kits, synthesizers and music you can sing and dance to! Yes, it is nearly Pop Music, go figure.

It's a day like any other. You're on your way back from the salon where you have just had your ears done so they are especially soft. The autumn air seems to sparkle and your nose twitches at the smell of carrot cake wafting down the street. Your ears stand up and turn round.

Hippity hop   the frog does plop     o'er the lily pads.

While traipsing through Alaska, our recordist set up their mics on a hillside a few miles beyond a lake named "Mosquito Lake." You may be surprised to learn there are no mosquitos on the recording, but it is true, there are no mosquitos, they had been distracted earlier.

It was a fine Spring day when our Intrepid recordist hauled their gear over to the hills west of Patterson, California. There was a spot where the hills opened up on either side. There was a stream chortling through the lush verdant vale and, in the bright morning, a variety of birds calling out to each other and making announcements.