Pushing on a Rope
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Beating around the bushes
Basil was busy while I was 3,000 miles away this past week. He worked his way through the list I left of important appointments, chores and errands, plus a few tasks of his own.
Naturally he was eager to show off his work when I got in the door at midnight last night.
Before I could set the suitcase down, I had to peek inside the fridge, which he scrubbed down.
I had to admire his bed-making skills (I don’t have the heart to tell him the blanket is turned 90 degrees in the wrong direction).
Then he regaled me with the list of places he went, things he did,, coupons he used and people he spoke to.
Like I don’t do all this stuff by myself every week.
Still, I nodded in the appropriate places and forced my eyes to unglaze.
The thing he is most proud of is the work he arranged for the back yard, having a bunch of bushes planted along the side of the yard where a big tree stood, pre-Hurricane Sandy, and the overgrown thicket of stuff cleared out at the end of the yard and replaced with a stand of small evergreens. (We have eyed that project for the 14 years we’ve lived here.)
In fact, brandishing a flashlight, he tried to get me to go out in the back yard AT MIDNIGHT to see the progress.
I took a peek through the screen door in my stocking feet, but honestly.
This morning, I stumbled out of bed to see this:
New bushes where a large tree stood in our yard before Hurricane Sandy.
and this:
The back perimeter of the yard was previously an overgrown mess of Pachysandra, small bushes and weeds.
Not too shabby.
