Not a Drop
Last night after dark, we had thunder and lightning . . . but not a drop of rain.
True to form, Dennis and I got the tag team job done of getting the Kentucky Blue Grass lawn seed on the the front yard right before it got dark. We managed to get about one hour of watering done via the sweep sprinkler before we called it a night.
The agenda for today, Saturday, was set as being a light one. My main focus was to move the sprinkler around on the front yard. The laundry basket had exploded last night after we came in from the yard. Nothing new to have the washer humming many times during the week. Dennis had his suspenders pulled on and he was heading out to friend Dwayne’s for more goodies to be loaded on a trailer for an auction next week.
It has gotten quite warm out today. I moved the sprinkler on the front yard from various places starting at eight this morning until twelve-thirty. Tomorrow it will get another dose. The raking combined with the watering, Dennis thought the front yard looked a whole lot better already when he came home at noon. I agreed. Of course, we are prejudiced.
We each had an agenda for the day, but we also were going to take it a bit easier on the bodies today. I had my spot already in mind by the time the last of the clothes was in the drier. The west porch of our home is my reading spot during daylight hours. My book prop keeps the pages at a good level that my neck appreciates. The old green stool that has several levels of emotional attachment to it, carries my snack and my beverage. Sweet. In times past, I could read while lying in bed. I could read sitting in any soft chair. Those were the good old days. My hands can no longer hold a book up to read independently. That neck of mine isn’t in-like of looking either up or down. I know my porch perch has the best setup ever. Sweet.
Dennis and I will meet up for supper and right now I know those two boys are mulling over each and every item before randomly putting it on the auction trailer. Lots of history to part with on Dwayne’s part. Lots of history in those two fellows. Having gone through high school together, going forward, I know one or the other . . . Dennis or Dwayne will make prudent decisions. Tough calls. Good grief, if I would have to sort through my sewing studio . . . let’s not go there.