After waiting half a year, spring has arrived full force- with verdant trees, lawns and gardens. The disease of domestica domicilious usually lies dormant but this year it has flared up and I'm the one suffering. Its current manifestation expresses itself as a fixation on patio blocks- those big ones with patterns embossed on one side, 16" x 16"x 2", 42 pounds each (com'on lift 'em two at a time!) Somehow it makes sense to me to have all those hard-to weed areas covered with stylish concrete. At my rate of progress, in 20 years the entire yard will be covered and I'll be able to throw away my lawn mower.
The weaver maintains a respectful distance, as she knows that this malady soon shall pass and I'll be back where I belong- on the sofa, eating bon-bons and doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. In ink. Capability Brown I am not.