Down the street from the mountain house, less than a thousand yards from the door, there is a natural amphitheater. It is at least a mile across. Its sides are the granite bones of the Appalachians. Every note rings crisp, clear, stark through open air. Once, I played there and finished to applause echoing back. It might have come from five miles away. Last night, I picked keys, improvised, and played my whole range from F above the staff to pedal Bb. I managed to push below that as far as G. It sounded better than it really does, a gift of the space. I think it is sometimes good for me to get a taste of what will come if I practice hard.