If I don’t get out there with the shovel right quick, my dear wife Karen will have to bob and weave when she walks out to her car a few minutes from now.
Yes, this time I’m talking using the shovel reaching up.
On the roof of our side porch right this 7:53 a.m. second hang icicles. You can see how they look out of the window over our stove.
One of them is rather long today, feet long, don’t fall on my foot long.
And I knocked their cousins down yesterday at this time. That was a day of growing.
Out back, meanwhile, is this sight of towering pines. They sit rather majestically past the fence line, in my back door neighbor’s yard. They were big when we moved in a decade ago.
Now they are higher than I can measure, way over my single-story home’s roof, higher than the two-story home that sits on the other side of them. Hundred feet high, don’t fall on my house high.
They have a lean to them.
Spring and fall, they litter our backyard with pine cones.
Last year, I removed a handful of huge boughs that fell during winter.
I worry that they are heading toward the final years of their life. I fret that they will come crashing down someday soon.
Unlike those icicles, these I hope stay up, up, up.