The sun shines brightly on our sweet, little yard in Eastwood.
I look over my dear wife Karen’s happy little garden oval out front.
Every year, we put love into the ground. Little by little, the garden has widened. It shouldered a big change last year after winter winds toppled the centerpiece olive tree.
Karen is the main designer. Together we travel to Chuck Hafner’s Farmer’s Market to select our new additions. She digs with the hand spade. I maneuver the bigger shovel and marvel about the whole process.
Finally, here in Syracuse, the bottoms of the rose bushes are greening. Together, we admire the first budding of the forsythia and wonder how it will do in its second year blessing our grounds.
Springtime. The lawn will soon need its first mowing. I rather look forward to it.
Meanwhile, across the street still sits a discarded TV set. Look closely in the morning light, and you can see the reflection of our house in its sad screen.
During its month-plus literally and figuratively at the curb, one of the Eastwood band of trash-day scavengers has plunged hammer and hand into the back to pull out any wires and possible cash value.
Good neighbor Tim tells me he’s taken the time to compose a note explaining how a special call needs to be made for electronic pick-ups. He looked up the phone number, and taped the note to the TV. The polite plea to a previous owner is gone, but the TV remains.
Will the lawn cutters take it away on the first mow across the street?
Ah, the wonders of spring.