Several years ago, before the Butcher from Pittsburgh arrived, this is what a fall afternoon looked like, from the vantage point of my barn, looking toward the street where I live.
My house (and trees) are on the right side of the image. At the front of the neighbor's property is one of the two ginkgo trees that used to grace the neighborhood with bright golden yellow leaves each fall/autumn.
Sigh. . .
Post Script (3:36 PM): I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this, but Mike is out in the alley, raking up all my oak, beech and serviceberry leaves that fell onto his grass. What the hell, and who am I kidding?! I'm chortling inside, all the while typing in a darkened room so that he can't see me sitting here, laughing my considerable - - - off.
God, I am such a mean-spirited so-and-so this afternoon. Please forgive my poor attitude.
Or not!
PPS: As penance for my glee at Mike's burden (they are my leaves, and I should have been the one raking them from against his fence...I guess), I scrubbed the toilet/WC, a job I hate with a passion that rivals my lust for chocolate. I'm not Catholic, but I might as well have been. I've got Catholic guilt. Well, damn, now I have to do penance for that! Will it never stop today?!?
Beats being depressed, though...with a stick!
(c) 2009 Text and images, Martha McLemore
