Tree Guy and I had a bit of a contretemps. I wanted the mulberry trees that were ordered last December and purchased in early August put in the ground (it's nearly November). We had a discussion. He wanted to wait longer. I'm a patient woman, but had run short of that particular commodity. TG knows I have family backup and I didn't want to have to call out the "big guns." TG came on Monday and planted three of the five trees. Normally garrulous, TG "punished" me with monosyllables, but did accept bottles of chilled water as he worked. Lacking some parts for the watering system, he had to come back yesterday and repair that. Evidently feeling that I'd been sufficiently chastised and his point made, we are now back on good terms and he chattered away like a magpie once more. There are still two trees to be planted. Hmmm.
Six more wipes were missing from the bucket yesterday. How many blankets do those little guys need?! If, at some far-distant time in the future, that pen is ever plowed, someone is going to wonder why all those cloth bits keep turning up. That'll keep 'em guessing!
Apropos of absolutely nothing, I watched a fascinating documentary last night about William "Dummy" Hoy, a deaf major league baseball player in the 1800s. Hoy was the inspiration for the hand signals used still today by umpires. He had an amazing career in baseball and was inducted into the Cincinnati Hall of Fame; however, not yet into the National Hall of Fame at Cooperstown. The film, "Signs of the Time," was made in an attempt to achieve that ultimate reward for Hoy. Baseball is not my game. I hated to play it and don't enjoy watching it. I do think credit should be given where credit is due.
As soon as the sun comes up, I'm going to water three trees in the ground and two trees in their pots. I guess that's progress.