The fiddle that turns my crank is one I've inherited (actually, it's my sister's but she doesn't play). It was my Mum's Dad's fiddle, a German made 1888 Wolff Bros. I never knew the man but I guess he played regularly after work at his Toronto garage, the songs of his home in Scotland. It has character for sure, and family history obviously, never mind the psychological and sentimental attachment. I'm told it's pretty good, though you'd never know it in my hands...in the right hands it's glorious. It's this instrument that I believe has adjusted my ears to maple, and along the way I appreciate my mandolin and guitar all the more.

It's all those other maple instruments I want now that haunt my dreams!

Peace, Mooh.