March Off

I've been luxuriating. It would be a bit easier if I could do it in a place without neighbors. Some of them insisted on taking advantage of the afternoon's fine weather by mowing their lawns, instead of lazing about as any decent, civilized person would have done. Gasoline fumes from power mowers add nothing of value to the scent of freshly cut grass, and the racket the machines make is considerably less pleasant than the chirping of birds. I hope crows crapped on some heads.

Anyway, the excess of ambition the neighbors displayed is now in abeyance, and the placid evening has arrived with a pearly sky that presages what I hope will be a soft spring rain tomorrow evening. I did display some slight ambition myself this afternoon, and went out to pluck up some of the young foxtails that, left to their own devious devices, would soon become a cuff-snagging jungle. If occasional rains keep the ground a bit damp, I'll be able to continue plucking the foxtail crop easily enough. Last year I let them get ahead of me, and suffered the consequences of having to strain to get the mature plants out of the dessicated soil.

Look at me, so bemused that I forgot to post this entry for four hours.