A strange day. I'm here at my computer desk (where else?) waiting for the Cardinals/Titans game to come on. I just watched the Suns whomp the Raptors to go to 14-3, and now the Colts are coming back to beat the Texans. I look out my window at the back yard. The sun is shining but the air is chilly, and the arbor vitae are dancing back and forth in a cold breeze, like bears waltzing. Since we had our arbor vitae trimmed up almost five feet from the ground, most of our critters no longer hang out in our yard. The doves and quail still use them for roosting, but the rabbits and lizards have abandoned us for more favorable haunts in nearby oleander bushes. Even the quail that used to parade through our yard during the day no longer come around. They and the doves still flutter into the upper branches at dusk, settling into the thick branches for the night. "Good night, Mary Ellen." "Good night, John Boy," we hear them cooing. And then the dark flows in and they go silent. Our arbor vitae, eight of them along our back property line, were about twelve feet high when we moved in, hiding us from all but the roofs of the houses behind us. They were one of the main reasons I fell in love with this house when we moved to Sun City West. Now they're twice that high and I love them twice as much.
Good, the Cardinals game is on. Bad, Kurt Warner won't be starting at qb and poor Matt Leinart gets the dubious honor.