Watching. Waiting. Watching some more. Nope, no rain clouds overhead, so Bess and I went out to mow. (She's recovered from her accident the day before.) Gassed up Fu Manchu and off we went, down the drive, down by the road, the back yard, and the side yard. It was a perfect afternoon for this kind of work, warm sun and a nice breeze. The Cecile Brunner is obviously thriving with this on-again, off-again weather and is loaded with those sweet little roses. The west field could have used a trim and I've yet to tackle the front yard, but by the time I'd finished what I'd started I'd gone butt dead and needed a pit stop anyhow, reason enough to call it quits. Another storm cell blew in last night. More twiggy branches down and everything is soaked this morning. Oh well.
I'm destined not to have fresh salad greens. This leaf lettuce was coming along nicely. In fact, it was to the point that I thought, "Just another couple of days," and it would be ready to pick enough for dinner. Yeah, how's that workin' for ya? The ground squirrel bandit has struck again. Fortunately, he doesn't have a taste for the Thai basil in the same pot. I think the wild things are getting a little too comfortable. The other day there was a large deposit of turkey poop on the front porch right by the door where no turkey should be, and a squirrel had brought a helping of sunflower seeds from the bird-feeding station and left a pile of shells on the porch, as well. They're pushing the boundaries of my hospitality.
There's always more to do, but at least I got a start. It was a good day.
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