Yesterday the lawn mower had its first outing. I had not planned on mowing, but Sunday my neighbor to the north mowed, which made my lawn look scruffy. That is usually how it goes on my block; one yard gets mowed, then the rest fall in line. Sometimes our street looks like a golf course.
After yoga class, I feel like I have stretched and toned every muscle in my body, but apparently the lawn mowing muscles are missed - I'm a little sore this morning.
A post from last year featured some amorous ducks. Well, guess who flew over the yard last evening, quacking sweet nothings midair. When Betsy and I passed by the neighborhood pond yesterday morning, a pair of geese complained, but I doubt they will hang around. Too many people walk their dogs along the waters edge.
The bluebird box appears to be stuffed with nesting material, but I have not seen anything coming or going, nor anyone standing guard. The front of the box swings open so you can check on the inhabitants, but I'm too polite to intrude.
I am getting queasy about taking down the silver maples. My head says it is the right decision for the long term for me and my yard, but my heart aches and I apologize to the trees every time I think of them. Last night I dreamed that there was another tree in my yard, a stately sycamore, and I could say I still had two trees instead of the one that will remain when the whacking is done.