It's all becoming clear to me now. Bessie Anne has ulterior motives when she talks me into going outside. She's been lulling me into thinking it was just for a little R&R and fresh air, but now she says, "Well, as long as you're out here, you might as well do something productive." The day before, she gave me an easy start with a little weeding in the lavender bed; no big deal and we weren't at it long. Yesterday the gloves came off. "You know, Mom, big rain is predicted for the weekend. Just look at all the leaves in the walkway. They're going to get slick and somebody could fall and hurt themselves." (This photo was taken after I'd cleared the path and got the pile around the corner.)
A pretty good breeze had kicked up so it was best not to leave the leaves where they were, or they certainly wouldn't stay where they were and what I'd done would have been for naught. In case I didn't get the point, my taskmaster shuffled through, scattering the pile. Fine. The problem then was that twice as many leaves were in the way over to the south slope and must be moved before I could attack the first pile. I was working away under Bessie's watchful eye, and then the rake fell off the handle. I was ready to quit, but the boss was right there, so I found a mismatched screw, fixed the danged thing and kept working. Bess, in the herb garden, pointed out that I'd missed a "few," and I explained that those leaves were going to be left as a cover for the winter. I got The Look, but she said okay.
Finally released from work detail, a cold drink and a sit-down sounded pretty good. Bessie Anne, having done all the hard work of supervising, plopped down, exhausted, on the porch beside me and we enjoyed the view together for awhile. Then the boss reminded me that it was Monday and I should get the trash down to the big road.
Bess rode shotgun to the meet-and-greet corner where we ran into Luis Uptheroad (there must be a whole colony), the farrier, and his wife waiting for their kids to get off the school bus, and Camille and Honey.
Come sundown, the girls are ready to head to bed. Anyone counting butts and missing one should know that Inga had already made it to the barn. These kids need no urging to go in at nightfall.