maintenance

If I ask Ed to help me rip up an acre of land, dig out a tree, remove boulders, lay several ton of wood chips, he'll do it. Right at my side.

If I ask him to help weed or water -- well, I wouldn't ask, because I know that's not his thing. He creates, designs, labors to effectuate a design. And then he's done.

It's a fine match, because I am your maintenance person. I keep things neat and tidy. I dust, weed, and water. I don't let things disintegrate into their past state of chaos.

Still, I tell Ed today that it feels awfully lonely right now, because what the yard needs is maintenance. And so I work alone.

Yes, there is our beautiful breakfast.






And a moment to give a nod to the flowers.










And then we slink into our world of Friday chores and when we resurface, he picks up his projects and I hit the beds and there you have it: day is done.

Though not really. Not tonight. My daughter is popping by for pizza on the porch while her husband is away at work...






Pizza means no cooking, right? Well yes, more or less. But how could I not add a salad with gardens veggies -- beans, cucumbers and tomatoes. And too, Ed has a sudden interest in home made ice cream. I'm willing.
What kind would you like?
Vanilla.
I stare at him. Vanilla?
Of course!

So, we eat pizza and salad, followed by vanilla ice cream. With a few raspberries from the garden  sprinkled on top.





And we watch chickens do their chicken thing and before you know it, the light fades and we are nearly into tomorrow. If it continues not to rain, my rituals wont vary much: maintenance. Water. Weed. Ed will probably watch from his big window at the sheep shed, throwing out the occasional smile and an encouraging word.