When our elderly neighbor across the road began having health issues a few years ago, I started keeping a closer check on him. His only daughter was an attorney and lived out west. When I would see a change in him, I would send her a text or give her a call. It was the neighborly thing to do. She was grateful.
When he died, I helped place his dog in a forever home, and kept an eye on his place until she could figure out a path forward. His grass grew as fast as mine, so each time I mowed the lawn, I'd cut his. That way, the place didn't look abandoned. Looking abandoned in rural areas is an open invitation for ne'er do wells.
The last time she came home, she gave me some of the things that her dad loved. There were some tools, a few books, and the swing that sat in front of his house.
After hauling the swing home, I placed it on the edge of the yard in the shade of a sweet gum tree.
Jilda and I soon learned that the sound of a squeaking chain is intoxicating on warm summer evenings.
Since the coronavirus hit, we've spent more time at home and we've paid more attention to our place. One evening while swinging, Jilda said, I think this swing would be better if it was sitting over there. She pointed to the opposite edge of the yard.
I never question her taste in the positioning of yard-thangs, so we stood and wagged it squeaking to the new location. A moment later, when we sat down, I knew she was right because it was positioned to watch the setting sun.
A few days later, the Mandevilla we'd bought was on one end of the swing with its tentacles winding up the swing poles. One the other side was a raised bed of cucumbers.
Since then, the plants seem to be in a race to see which one can form a canopy over our heads.
In the future, when looking back at the year 2020, there will be plenty of ways to curse it, but there will be other things that would not have happened had we not slowed down.
When he died, I helped place his dog in a forever home, and kept an eye on his place until she could figure out a path forward. His grass grew as fast as mine, so each time I mowed the lawn, I'd cut his. That way, the place didn't look abandoned. Looking abandoned in rural areas is an open invitation for ne'er do wells.
The last time she came home, she gave me some of the things that her dad loved. There were some tools, a few books, and the swing that sat in front of his house.
After hauling the swing home, I placed it on the edge of the yard in the shade of a sweet gum tree.
Jilda and I soon learned that the sound of a squeaking chain is intoxicating on warm summer evenings.
Since the coronavirus hit, we've spent more time at home and we've paid more attention to our place. One evening while swinging, Jilda said, I think this swing would be better if it was sitting over there. She pointed to the opposite edge of the yard.
I never question her taste in the positioning of yard-thangs, so we stood and wagged it squeaking to the new location. A moment later, when we sat down, I knew she was right because it was positioned to watch the setting sun.
A few days later, the Mandevilla we'd bought was on one end of the swing with its tentacles winding up the swing poles. One the other side was a raised bed of cucumbers.
Since then, the plants seem to be in a race to see which one can form a canopy over our heads.
In the future, when looking back at the year 2020, there will be plenty of ways to curse it, but there will be other things that would not have happened had we not slowed down.
