The Grape vines have been pruned, the roses too. Time to cut the remaining tall mint, take the gazebo furniture cushions to the storage shed behind the little house. Get as many leaves off the deck as possible. I'm hoping for a long enough stretch of time to let the deck dry to get a coat of linseed oil or Thompson's WaterSeal on it before it's too late. It might be already. It wouldn't be the first time I let winter slip up on me. I hate the preparation. I hate cleaning rain gutters, hate raking leaves, hate taking the cushions in because it means I have resigned myself to winter. No more evenings sitting in the gazebo, listening to squirrels and chickadees and crickets. Short days, long nights. Shoveling snow. Oh yes, I know how you sunbirds love the snow you don't have to shovel. But it's enough to break an old woman's back. If it's really deep and staying, I call the teenage girl across the street and she runs over to shovel for me. She's a most ambitious little entrepreneur, helpful and prompt for the right price. Good girl, Alex. It's nice to know you dear.
