Today is too lovely to waste so I’ll make it an outside day. I have to organize my little library, put deck tarps away, decorate the trees hanging by the deck and fill the bird feeders. My deck needs to be cleared of debris, but it is too much for my broom and me so I’m hoping the grass gets cut this afternoon so my landscaper can blow the deck clean. I also need to pick up a few flowers for the deck’s clay pots. I don’t know how many tasks I can finish today, but I’m hoping for most of them. I’m trying to ignore my sloth which whispers nap into my ear.
My father was a lawn man. He used a hand mower and always cut the lawn in the same direction. He hated it when we rode our bikes down the small grassy hill in front of the house. Our tire tracks gave us away. My father had a sprinkler which watered the lawn in a circle. He used to keep moving the sprinkler around the yard. He was always proud of his grass.
My mother had a small flower garden in a corner of the yard. It was right outside the kitchen windows. She had a bird feeder in the garden, a statue of St. Francis with outstretched arms. She put the seeds in his hands. She also hung seed bags off the clothes line. The squirrels, aka spawns of Satan, deftly walked the lines to get the seeds. She seldom attracted pretty birds. She had pigeons and crows. Once she even had a seagull. She told us her pigeons were country birds.
I keep lists. I tape them to the table here in the den. One list has all of the uke concerts in June. Another one lists the flowers I’ll buy today. I keep a standing grocery list. Another has the birthdays of my friends. I never used to be a list person, but I find I forget things if I don’t write them down somewhere. I tape them to the table because if I put them somewhere else I’ll forget where they are.
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