I was thinking about all the music I like and humming a few tunes, too. A visitor once said we were the "singingest" family, and he wasn't exactly complimenting us. I think he found the incessant humming and bursts of song fragments annoying. I thought it was funny, because I have been deliberately cultivating these music making habits since Ezra was small. I've learned multiple verses of many, many folk songs; I've memorized a slew of Mother Goose rhymes and children's poems and chore songs; I've learned lots and lots of dear Pete Seeger's propaganda songs; and finally, I've learned to whistle. If one of the children starts a song, I join in or listen and express pleasure. Jason is probably the least likely to burst into song, but even he uses quotes from songs on a regular basis.
So, as I was raking, I was humming a couple of Burl Ives tunes that tickle my fancy and then I switched to White Stripes and then Pink Floyd and then the Beatles and Lyle Lovett and so on. And I was thinking how lucky I am to be able to entertain myself in the middle of this pleasant, but mindless and monotonous task.
I thought about how we avoided the children's music drivel that might make one flee from music altogether. I like that Ezra enjoys REM and Cocteau Twins and doesn't like Carolina Chocolate Drops, while Phaedra is particularly fond of Sinead O'Connor and Sylvie likes Woody Guthrie. Everyone likes dear Pete Seeger and the lively (though dead) Burl Ives. I have yet to win anyone over to Dave Brubeck or Miles Davis, but Handel and Fred Astaire are more than tolerated.
It's funny what you might think of while raking leaves.