Our task yesterday was to finish cleaning up the back yard including the firewood I never finished stacking last year. For nine months I told B, "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." But, of course, I never did. As it turned out, if I had finished stacking it in the shed, I would have had to move it back out when we tore down the shed. I admit that for those nine months I had no idea that we'd be tearing down the shed. But I'm always delighted when procrastination pays off.
The lawn slopes down under the clothesline hiding the pile of scrap lumber behind the firewood. For twenty years or more I stored firewood there while it dried and behind it I tossed all sorts of wood scraps that I didn't know what else to do with.
The inexorable process of filling empty space begins...
I'm no longer tiptoeing barefoot across the pristine concrete floor. I walk right in, even with muddy feet.
I have a deep seated dread of seeing my beautiful new garage become the dark hole of dead storage that so many garages are. This garage was designed to hold: the car, firewood and tools. Period. Check back next year to see how I'm doing.
Belinda started at 8:30 and I joined the project around 10:00. By 4:00 we felt we had really earned our cocktail.
I think Belinda's envisioning a lovely, wide expanse of grass to mow. But I'm definitely seeing an opportunity for more ferns and woodland plants...