Summertime + Player Pianos + Deer

We bought a player piano in the mid 60s that actually worked. We had these long sheets of paper with the notes cut out in tiny slices--we fed the sheets through the piano and it played a tune like a music box plays, tinkling the tones in methodical vigorous manner. We'd had another player piano when I was a kid--Dad had it moved to the basement of the Audubon house, but the only way the moving men could get it down there was to take it apart. So there it sat in the rec room, in pieces, for the entire time we lived in that house. My brother and I would bang on the strings, pretending we were making spooky haunted house sounds.

I have a piano now, but it is in my ex's house and I have no place to move it, since I live in 525 sq ft. I've thought of finding someone who played and see if they want to keep my piano until I live in a larger place. But so far have found no one to do this. I thought the grandbaby would like it--he loves music and we dance and sing together--but my daughter has too much furniture already.

Which brings me to the chair I will place in my garden. Each place I find to move something seems to solve a little of this problem. The chair is currently sitting on a pile of my stuff in the car garage, waiting it's debut in the Wilson and 10th Street garden plot. I actually have some beans up and the zucchini look strong. I planted another tomato, the one I told you about. Green Zebra Stripped. And the grandbaby helped me water. A deer had walked through the garden, and if she ate something, I'm not privy to what. It was a sultry day and a good first day of summer and the celebration was fine.

Now I must get on the road and catch a ferry. Working on cleaning out the old place, extricating myself entirely is a emotional job; however, I'm ready for it after this last full moon and all the weird and wonderful things that happened.

Ciao!