I came across a small, chapel sized upright piano on its side last Monday in someones yard two hours before you had to leave to teach.
It was fate, i said. Something told me i needed to go out.
Snow and rain was coming.
It had to be now,
I said.
And without hesitation, you put on your coat and shoes and we walked hastily down the weathered sidewalk to save it from sure death at the hands of the hangings-on of winter rains and snow...
Somehow we moved it from where it stood tipped on its end by the owners front door and to the street by working together and walking it gently side to side to side.
Once we get it to the street i said,
Its all pretty much down hill from here....
And we looked toward home together. Surveying the potholes, dips and little inclines...
Bright yellow water tower marking our home like a giant pin on the grand map of our lives together.
We began to push.
A bit like guiding a renegade canoe i said, right?
A bit even like giving birth, it is.
We took turns being the steerer and the pusher, working together...stopping to rest when the other could go no longer.
Leaning on the piano for support.
Leaning on eachother.
Just think of how the children will love this, we said to one another, heavy breathing, laughing at the spectacle we must be with us and the loud rumbling of the piano going down the street.
We made it home.
And a weary high five went up.
We pushed that piano almost five blocks together. Didn't we dear?
What a story to pass along, right love?
A lesson in marriage, i said.
Right, you said between heavy breaths. We were winded and cold from the morning air, but excited...how often does an opportunity like this come along? We said.
A free piano.
I used to take lessons, you know. And you knew because I've only told you a million times over the last 10 years.
But you listened nonetheless, like it was the first time you ever heard it.
We lost a leg off the front of it in the last hundred yards or so. The vibration and rumbling was too much for that poor thing.
Nothing that can't be fixed, you said.
Nothing that can't be fixed.
Then i covered our prize with plastic and quilts and after you left for class the rain finally came.
I thought for certain our hard work was in vain.
And then i thought to myself, it was all about the journey together.
And even if our treasure got ruined outside in the elements, we would still have the memory.
Or perhaps we made someone watching from their window chuckle...or we gave someone a little hope...or a moment to simply forget for awhile and watch that crazy couple out there in the cold,
Pushing a piano home.
Showing posts with label Kenneth Morford. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kenneth Morford. Show all posts
Monday, March 12, 2018
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Falling Up
Today, you and I, lay under the relished shade of the volunteer Mulberry tree.
Its berries, still tight and spring green. Nothing came between us but glinting slants of sun through the branches above, and for a very long while our world was silent, except for the soft chorus of our voices and far away birdsong.
Blue, blue sky and puffs of distant clouds were heralding the late afternoon heat to come, but we were cool together then, in the early hours of the May day.
The mortgage was not calling to us, the must do list wasn't mercilessly pounding like storm waves...the weight of things not pressing in.
Just you and I, for a beautiful while,
falling up together.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
So, I've Wanted to Tell You
I've wanted to tell you about so much...I've wanted to tell you about how the air is changing and the coolness coming in from outside as I make my assemblage jewelry there in my circle of light in the evenings is such a welcome and wonderful gift. I've wanted to tell you about becoming a grandma soon (somewhere around November 2nd) and how I can hardly wait to look into my tiny grandson's eyes, and how he has transformed my wayward and rebellious older teen into a young woman whom I can sing and laugh with...and how I have his presence to thank for that and how I know that everything that happens, happens for reasons we simply cannot foresee.
I've wanted to tell you about the funny "stink bug" infestation on the last of the melons in the back yard, and about the last of the tomatoes in the garden and the sound of birds I've never heard before as they migrate south through this tiny town in west Michigan... and how every time I think that I am now a bonafide "Michigander" it cracks me up; the 'gander" part particularly.
and I want to tell you about how poorly my spelling has become, but my desire to write and for my work to be read burns in my belly constantly...just that life does not desire me to write much at the moments I most desire to write and that is why I am here now, late in the night, writing. Because this is the only place I find time to write. Here in the quiet spaces of the night before bed...So I write here for anyone who thinks I may have something worth reading amid the busyness of life and of love and of daily exhaustion. ( I know the exhaustion, and that is why I appreciate those who choose to read here more than I can say.)
Funny, I have many partially empty journals dating back 20+ years...journals from my 20's with maybe ten pages out of 50 blank pages filled with random thoughts and scribbles and rants between ex-husbands and diaper changes. After they began to pile up, I simply ripped the few pages out of the journals that had writing and I stuffed them into what I call "the suitcase of life", which is an old and tattered medium-sized vintage suitcase filled with random tangible articles that verify that yes, I once existed here somewhere among the concert programs and the award for honorable mention for poetry for the High School Florida Young Writer's contest in 1986. (which has a typo in the program poem title that was supposed to read "A piece of Blue Glass." but instead reads, "A Piece of Blue Grass." which changed the meaning entirely, don't you think? So everyone at the awards ceremony must have thought, hey that 16 year old kid likes Bluegrass, eh?
I'm rambling. I know.
I want to tell you about my husband, whom I have such a deep admiration for, for so many things...one of them being his ability to paint and draw everything from duplicating the insides of the antique pocket watches he collects and repairs, to painting and drawing amazing portraits.
Even his scribbles or painting for fun with our son becomes artistic...like the day we painted paper plates for fun~
I want to tell you how he planted my favorite flowers in the front yard so that I can see them through the window as I work~
I have cleaned my table since the last movie I made for you here. I spent a good few hours sorting and cleaning and it just feels better to have an uncluttered place to work. I've also been working on these, which will be in the shop soon~
I've been busy working on my new website also, SacredCake.com. If you have a moment, stop by and tell me what you think? It is in fairly basic stages, but I work a little each day. I am moving toward having a working shop of my very own running there soon! Until then, you can find my work in the usual place, on Etsy.com under the under name SacredCake, for those of you who may just be dropping by today! (and I'm glad you did!)
So glad you chose to come here.
Blessings to You and Yours,
Jennifer
I've wanted to tell you about the funny "stink bug" infestation on the last of the melons in the back yard, and about the last of the tomatoes in the garden and the sound of birds I've never heard before as they migrate south through this tiny town in west Michigan... and how every time I think that I am now a bonafide "Michigander" it cracks me up; the 'gander" part particularly.
and I want to tell you about how poorly my spelling has become, but my desire to write and for my work to be read burns in my belly constantly...just that life does not desire me to write much at the moments I most desire to write and that is why I am here now, late in the night, writing. Because this is the only place I find time to write. Here in the quiet spaces of the night before bed...So I write here for anyone who thinks I may have something worth reading amid the busyness of life and of love and of daily exhaustion. ( I know the exhaustion, and that is why I appreciate those who choose to read here more than I can say.)
Funny, I have many partially empty journals dating back 20+ years...journals from my 20's with maybe ten pages out of 50 blank pages filled with random thoughts and scribbles and rants between ex-husbands and diaper changes. After they began to pile up, I simply ripped the few pages out of the journals that had writing and I stuffed them into what I call "the suitcase of life", which is an old and tattered medium-sized vintage suitcase filled with random tangible articles that verify that yes, I once existed here somewhere among the concert programs and the award for honorable mention for poetry for the High School Florida Young Writer's contest in 1986. (which has a typo in the program poem title that was supposed to read "A piece of Blue Glass." but instead reads, "A Piece of Blue Grass." which changed the meaning entirely, don't you think? So everyone at the awards ceremony must have thought, hey that 16 year old kid likes Bluegrass, eh?
I'm rambling. I know.
![]() |
some of KW's recent Sketches |
![]() |
dixie plate portrait |
![]() |
the last of the Queen Anne's Lace and Hydrangeas |
functional assemblage art oil can photo holders |
![]() |
the original oil can photo holders by jennifer valentine |
So glad you chose to come here.
Blessings to You and Yours,
Jennifer
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)