Greener Grass.

 Greener Grass.

 

Rain has a way of stopping lots of things—droughts, plans, and assorted activities. But given its necessity, who cares. The brides planning on garden weddings wouldn’t agree, but the ducks raising a nest of ducklings are pleasantly surprised to get more rain for their ponds. For this ol’ hill, rain means the grass and various plants will take over and hide bunny mothers who want to make a nesting place to raise their littles. Unfortunately, my dogs can smell those little critters and root them out of the nests. And the pair of ducks who come to enjoy the chicken feed can’t raise their ducklings on this particular hill for the same reason. The coyotes and raccoons forage for goodies—including ducklings and baby rabbits—down around the lake, and my dogs keep the nests empty up here on the hill. Such is life.

 

Patty has her mowing people down at her house working on the jungle that was her yard. Dear Hearts, Roxie almost got lost in that stuff out there. The henbit was so tall that she had to jump to get out of it. Rudy just plowed on through as if it were so much fluff. He is somewhat bigger though. When the man finishes her place, he will be up here to talk to me about my trees. Will ask about the price of mowing once, and then maybe Stephen can get my mower repaired or bring his and a boy or two to work this place over. It’s always something.

 

Talked to Sterling this morning. He and Jacqui spent until nearly eleven at the ER last night. He had been digging a steel splinter out of his thumb and dropped the knife on his foot. It went all the way through, so eight stitches and some pressure bandages later, he is wearing his new sneakers and appreciating that they are larger than his last pair. The things my daddy’s knives have done to his son! Daddy’s knives were always as sharp as anything could get and still be metal. Still have one of his in my desk drawer.

 

Just finished talking to my friend Barbara M. Love talking with her. We had the same kind of upbringing. The same kind of neighbors and the same attitude lived where she lived. We got to talking about her grandson Clayton Lee and her granddaughter’s husband who were in a wreck with another guy. Clayton needs our prayers. He was working for the sheriff’s department down in Graham, but he had both hips broken/crushed and is maybe going to be able to use a cane soon to get around. If he does, he wants to advance in the police force so he can become an investigator rather than chase criminals on foot. Let’s pray that his bones heal, the concussion won’t cause any lasting damage, and he is able to get his hearing back on the one side of his head where he flew out through the truck window. Honestly, seat belts make a big difference. His brother-in-law got one foot smashed in the wreck, but he will eventually be able to go back to work in the sheriff’s department in Henrietta. Let’s keep this family in our prayers.

 

Whew! The pollen level must be out of sight! It is really thick out there! Using saline solution last night and already feel it would work right now before it is even bedtime. Guess that is one of the wonders of spring and all these beautiful blooms, lawns being mown, trucks flying down the highway, and breezes through the Bradford pears out there. Argh!

 

Sitting here yawning as if it were time for bed, but know perfectly well that it is too early to even consider it. Not sure why a person gets so tired as they get older, but it must be the way we are made. Sterling assures me that it will only get earlier before it gets later—meaning it is too early to get tired and too late to change the situation. Or something like that. At any rate, God has blessed me with nearly 75 years, so maybe it is better to just enjoy the yawns and fatigue and not gripe.

 

Let us give thanks for what God has given us. Time, seasons, friends, family, and His blessings. Rest well, my friends. You are loved.