We walk a lot in our family. There is not a walk that we take that does not yield some treasure: a bird call, a toad, a new flower, a stunning sky, good mud. On a walk last Sunday, the girls and I thought we'd found our treasure - a cicada, hollowed out but in good shape, ready to be closely inspected and handled and drawn.
Such beauty in its transparent wings! So amazing to hold it and really see its eyes, the green of its legs. We carried it with us to the "peak" where we were planning on sitting for a bit and drawing what we saw.
I'll say it again - a burnt piano. Someone - and a bunch of their friends, I'm guessing - somehow lugged an upright piano up the hill in order to make a bonfire in its belly. We were stunned.
I am hot. Very lonely. No one wants to be near me.
Maybe it was the heat or the humidity, but we left feeling melancholy. Interestingly, at the potluck we hosted that night, a colleague of Dan's whose husband is in the business of repairing and tuning pianos reminded us that on occasion their family will host a party centered around the burning of an old piano, whose wires will sometimes sing and twang as they're released...we've been invited to the next one.