Sunday morning. Rosalie just went to work and I’m here, debating what to do with the rest of my day. I can feast on football, but if I choose to watch the Cardinals/Panthers game, it will be more like a fast than a feast. Wow, do the Cardinals ever stink this year, nearly as bad as in the bad old days. The only thing they’ve got going for them this week is that the Carolina Panthers stink even more than the Cards. This one should be called the Odorous Bowl.
Or I can skip football and finish my latest Wiltse book, this one called Into the Fire. I can’t wait to finish it so I can start another. I’m somewhat obsessive-compulsive when it comes to reading: Once I find an author I like, I read him/her all at once, one after another as fast as I can read; once I find a series I like, I buy them all and then read them in their proper order as fast as I can. Yeah, some would say, that’s o.c. all right.
Or I can simply sit on my back patio and contemplate my backyard. I love my backyard. I mean, I really love my backyard. You will note in the accompanying photo, the height of the arbor vitae on the back property line. These trees were about fifteen feet high when we moved in; they’re now twice that size. They were what first attracted me to this house, that wonderful privacy hedge. Not that I don’t love neighbors; I just don’t want them too close to me.
I’ve written before about this (see photo below) grapefruit tree. Thirty-five years ago, we raised it from a seed, kept it indoors in a pot as a house plant, brought it with us from New York to Arizona, and planted it here, where it grew and grew, and now even has eight grapefruit. I also love the small rocks. Don’t have to water them, don’t have to mow them, don’t even have to rake any leaves that may fall on them. The rabbits take care of any leaves that fall.
Whoa! the Cardinals game is just about to start. Gotta run. Gotta see how bad they’ll stink today.