A Sunday afternoon of sunshine and blue skies, a welcome change from the slanting cold rain and gusty winds which have become overly familiar during February. The recently created sun room lures me with thoughts of a mug of tea, the current book, the cushioned chair.
No, better to go outside and as a friend used to say, 'Air myself out.'
I anticipate trudging
around the perimeter of the property, looping around the east meadow, along the edge of the north ravine, around the narrow curve of
the west boundary.
I get as far as the retaining wall on the south/west end of the house. Leaning against the wall I begin tweaking out weeds, pesky evergreen things that spring up around roses, foxglove, pinks.
Willis [predictably] saunters around the corner of the house, leaps to the wall and parades directly in front of where I am reaching. When he has received his due homage, he strolls to the end of the wall and stretches out, face to the sun.