I love (hate) our trees

I love (hate) our trees

Should I crawl out of my warm comfy bed, leaving behind my blogging, reading, gaming environment, to tackle the mounds of leaves in the back yard? I already feel the warm burn on the underside of my underdeveloped upper arm as I contemplate the task. And what about the sting from the little blister that always forms between my thumb and my pointer finger? “Where are those old work gloves? Where is the worn rake? ” No excuse really since the weather has turned mild again. The backyard landscape is all brown and the severe weather has nipped my collection of herbs — even the rosemary is blackened. Sorry old yard, sorry old me. Tired from the first hectic week back at work, from the renewed exercise regimen and from the winter blahs, I contemplate the task and dive back under the covers. RM brings me another cup of hot java and encourages me to linger longer in my lair before venturing out. “Why worry about the leaves, they will still be there for you,” he reminds me as he tries to pat down my terrible case of bed head. He creaks back down the stairs leaving me with my decision. With the pressure off, I recall the more positive aspects of leaf raking…the satisfaction of making the beds clear, discovering a green shoot under the mass amount of debris, and the cat playing games with the crumpling leaves and begin to make my way out of my bed, to the shower to fix the wild hairdo, and out the back door to my secret garden waiting for its trusty caretaker to give it a winter makeover. Why I love (hate) my trees.


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