Gary said this afternoon that he is finally seeing the gardens take shape. After two rainy days I could get back to work. Today's task was clearing the rock garden, taking out old leaves and digging up spring weeds. It meant leaning over and using a lot of muscle yanking out grass and creeping charlie. I will feel that on my back tonight.
All around me, the sweet scent of the apple tree, the lilac bushes, and the hyacinths, unbelievable in April. The cardinal has been singing his territorial song, big time. He starts with a long whistle, then short ones. I imitate him, but add one extra short whistle. He returns with another short whistle. We've gotten as far as eight short whistles before one of us quits.
Meanwhile, I mentally write my next short story. It is taking shape in my mind. There will be three cats in it, so I should take inspiration from Rascal but unfortunately, he has no intention of being my muse. He slept the afternoon away in his bed at the office window in what looked like the most uncomfortable position possible.
Gary is working on the camper because we plan on heading up north to Boulder Lake as soon as the weatherman can string together three days without rain.
I'll have that short story written by then.
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