journal of a writing man

Nothing to do with tea

February 22, 2008 · 13 Comments

Friday February 22, 2008

Yesterday the grass got its first cut of the year as Graham worked under lowering skies to get the job done before the rains came.

I should have got my camera out but I was too busy enjoying the spectacle and providing witty ripostes as he pushed the mower up and down our little patch of grass.

“This garden is too small for you,” I said.  “You need something much bigger.”

He didn’t agree exactly, but he did admit he’s really happy when he’s gardening.

“Makes me feel good,” he said.

“That’s endorfo-whatsits, I suspect.”

“Could be.  Tea helps, too.”

“Oh. Ok.”

So the grass got done, the skies darkened over, and Dolly went out for a tour of inspection. The wind came up, ruffling her fur and she came waddling indoors, all disgusted and disgruntled.

“That cat’s a whuss,” said Graham.

“No she’s not. She’s a Maine Coon.”

“I thought they were supposed to be tough, all tundra-cat, and wild with it.”

“I don’t remember them saying that, but then I lost the operator’s handbook years ago.”

“You’re always losing operator’s handbooks.”

“I know.  It’s got something to do with quantum, I suspect.”

“You sure it’s nothing to do with tea?”

Categories: personal