Banjo, coffee, and open Saturday mornings

This morning the classroom smelled like French press and sun-warmed plywood; a kid earned a banjo chorus and the instrument hummed its way through an Emmylou song that's been stuck in my chest. Wyatt called mid-recess to report a good run and his laugh folded around the melody like a second voice.

What we built at home lets small adventures breathe — a slow hello over coffee, the kind of curiosity that asks real questions and listens. If you sing low, can trade a joke with Wyatt, and show up with kind hands, consider this a little wink from the music room.