I'm sitting at the dining room table making a yarn ball out of some yellow tangled yarn. I'm the only one at home this morning. I have no music playing, but there are plenty of sights and sounds around me. I can hear the quiet dull thud of the jars of grape juice in their hot water bath, I see the lovely patterns made by the sun as it shines through the front door and parlour windows, I hear the crackle of the fire burning in the wood stove, and I can see my wellies waiting to be slipped on before hanging out the laundry; even though it's only forty-something degrees outside.
Who needs music when I can hear the many soothing sounds of home? Not me!