My sister, Sandy, who lives subsequent door, has instructed of the “little outdated man” who lived right here earlier than we purchased the place. He’d toil for hours out within the yard busily planting this or weeding whereas taking solely an occasional break by sitting down on the identical tree stump within the far, shaded nook of the lot.
I do know what he was doing there. He was assessing his kingdom, making an attempt to determine what to do subsequent. Which shrub to trim, which bulbs to plant, what to do concerning the black walnut timber that sprout by the dozen each spring compliments of the military of squirrels that run the neighborhood.
I do know this, after all, as a result of after 30 years right here I discover myself doing the very same factor. The opposite day whereas scooping canine doo, gathering fallen twigs and cursing the enormous black walnut that carpet-bombs a whole quarter of my yard with ankle-twisting, billiard-sized fruit every fall, I took a break to catch my breath.
I used to be hunched over squinting at a clod of one thing in my gloved hand — at the very least I used to be fairly certain it was a clod. I’d misplaced my studying glasses off the highest of my head someplace within the yard whereas bending over to carry out the beforehand talked about maneuvers.
As a result of my focal size has prolonged slowly by way of the years to in the end exceed the size of my arms, I’ve change into a type of “far-sighted” folks, making the optimistic identification of any object lower than 5 toes away is just about unimaginable.
As a workaround, I set the clod on the stump and stood up, bringing what was as soon as a dust clod into focus because the stays of an “indestructible” rubber squirrel that the canines had dismembered and buried inside days of its arrival a number of years in the past. The world beneath our garden is full of such archeological treasures — a truth from which we glean limitless leisure. (“Hey Kristin, keep in mind that one wool glove that mysteriously got here up lacking a final winter? I feel I discovered it!”)
Sandy caught me throughout that current stump-sitting and laughed that it had startled her at first when she’d imagined for a second that the little outdated man had in some way returned throughout time to reclaim his perch.
“So, you’re saying that I appear to be a bit outdated man?” I countered. “Consider me, I typically really feel like I’m slowly morphing into one. In fact, it may very well be worse.” “How’s that?” she replied, falling for my lure. “I may very well be the older sister of a bit outdated man!” I laughed.
Write to John Lorson Ship Assist, P.O. Field 170, Fredericksburg 44627. Kristin and I might love to listen to from you! Make sure you try Fb for time-lapse movie clips of Kristin’s paintings and different enjoyable stuff at JohnLorsonSendHelp