Annie Oakley in the Spring

We have two gorgeous trees in our front yard, sentinels standing guard over the old, crusty wrought iron fence. They throw buckets of leaves over the lawn all fall, but still hang on to a lot of them, all curled and brown, until the new leaves push them off in March. I always anticipate seeing the fresh green fronds unfurling, the morning dew making them look like mint candies at a baby shower. No matter where life takes us, our front porch is always a place that brings me a feeling of hope. Out there, you can't keep your face in your phone. Out there, you can breathe and stop the world for a minute. I think about how many souls must have relaxed and taken a siesta over the last 117 years on this very spot. 

Once again, the earth has turned and spring is here. We've got less than a month until Easter and the trees are cranking out the pollen. Seems like I just hauled all my porch cushions to the laundromat out in Temple and now it's time to do it again. They have gargantuan machines that will hold even my sofa-sized cushions. It's way off the beaten path, with no other businesses in sight and nobody manning the place. Last time I went, a sketchy, burly man was the only person present. He told me that I needed to be careful because he had gotten robbed there before. I didn't know him and hoped he wasn't warning me with a Freudian slip. I slyly slithered into the bathroom and strapped on my Smith and Wesson. Sometimes I keep it in my purse and sometimes I keep it in my bra. That's more information than you need, but my Daddy didn't raise no fool. In real estate, I go into way too many vacant homes and meet up with way too many strangers to get caught being naive while I hang out my laundry.

There are too many projects to work on. The pond pump acted up again, so we need to clear all the leaves off and do some investigating. I've got a couple of goldfish that mercifully keep living through seasonal disasters. I'd like to give them a nicer place to swim. The frogs are back, croaking and splashing every time we walk by. Sometime I want to sandblast that wrought iron and give it a fresh coat of paint. I forgot to prune the fig tree this year, so now it's going to be as big as the house. Ken's building a path from the driveway to the front door. It's time for ferns and annuals. I guess I'll wait until the pollen slows down to get those cushions washed again and squirt off the porch furniture. I'll think about it tomorrow. And maybe I'll go do some target practice.