Time – he’s waiting in the wings
He speaks of senseless things
His script is you and me, boy
…
Did I really wear that much denim on a regular basis? It would seem so.
And on a completely different note, the snows came. Then the rains came, and the snow was gone. For a few sunny days, it was Spring again, and my bushes budded. And now it is snowing again. You’d think that plants would have developed some sort of innate understanding of seasons rather than getting their hopes up and putting forth all of their energies for a false spring. You’d be wrong. With luck, they’ll survive the winter, because it’s not bloody likely that I will get around to replanting for at least another five years.
Snow is good. It buries the dog turds in the back yard, freezing them solid, making them much easier to pick up come spring, false or otherwise. Unfortunately, fresh turds appear regularly, blossoming across the pure white field, surrounded in a hazy outline of yellow and waiting expectantly to crunch underfoot. Happy am I, wearing boots in this weather. Fresh feces and bare feet builds ill will towards the turd makers. With another few inches of snowfall, there is more reason to wait until spring to clean, as the turd-blossoms disappear, a few more indeterminate shapes giving form to our yard. By spring, perhaps we’ll have an even yard rather than the slope of present. It is good to have something to look forward to.
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