What a fantastic weekend it was! The weather was great, the sun was shining and the yard was calling my name. It was also time for the first rolling of the compost bin. I hadn't been that excited about something for a long time.
I had taken a sneak peek at it during the week and even though there really isn't a whole lot of stuff in there, I did see some steam roll out when I opened the lid. That, according to the experts in composting, is a good sign. I had to wait six days before it could be rolled and Saturday was it. It was heavier than I imagined and took some muscle to get it to turn, but the fins worked nicely to mix up my batch of steaming goods. I shall install a couple of handles on the barrel before the next rolling. Being excited about this is probably a pretty good indication that I need to get out more often.
There was so much to do and so little time. I always want to accomplish a whole winter's worth of neglected yard work on the first nice day. The first item on the yard agenda was the leaves. I ended up with three large piles of them. I have one small tree in my yard and not one of the leaves in the three large piles belonged to it. I do wish my neighbors would do something with their leaves besides letting them blow into my yard, especially the seventy foot tall sycamore tree leaves, they're as big as my head. But alas, I don't see that happening any time soon and they will provide more fodder for the compost bin.
It was glorious to be outside for two whole days and the only snafu happened yesterday afternoon. This warm spell has been a long time coming. It had lots of folks outdoors, including one young man who deemed it necessary to rip and snort his truck up and down the streets of this small town.
Don't get me wrong, I have a husband who loves to rip and snort his hot rod, when he has the chance. Some things about the male species never change. But, there is a time and a place for rippin' & snortin' and in a small town, on warm spring day, with the streets lined with children, is not the time nor the place to do it. One of my neighbors had yelled at this kid on one of his many passes, but since his mufflers, or lack there of, were so loud, I doubted that he heard the shout. I could hear him about four blocks away and meandered out to the front of the house and waited on the sidewalk.
He roared up the hill and made the turn onto my street, hit the gas and then he saw me. He made a half hearted attempt to let off of it, but it was too late. The sun reflecting off the windshield made it impossible for me to see who was driving, but his passenger gave me a slight wave. I returned the wave with a nod, reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone. He must have thought I was calling the law because about 30 seconds later I could hear the truck roaring off to the east, out of town.
What I had actually done was to put a post on the social media network, Facebook, just to find out who it was. It took about two minutes to solve the mystery. I knew the kid, he used to ride my bus. He also knows me well enough to understand that there are certain things I don't put up with. He may have had the thought too, that I still had his dad's phone number......and I do.
So I've come full circle and probably will be known as the mean old lady at the end of South Corey Street. That's OK. There are 24 kids that live on my street and four of them are my grandchildren. If he thought I was a force to be reckoned with on the bus, he ain't seen nothin' yet.
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