Debate – The Backyard – Our Realtor
by Bella Rum
I took that back in September. I know there will be endless transformations of that pasture over the years. It is forever changing. The buttercups of spring and the green of summer have passed. Now it is bathed in a golden wheat color. It changes from month-to-month, from day-to-day, from morning to evening, and sometimes from minute-to-minute.
Did you watch the debate? I fell asleep about halfway through. I think I started dosing. I faded in-and-out even in the first hour because I don’t remember much. I kind of remember Huckabee defending Trump’s ability to be president. Did that really happen? That must have been one of the few times I rallied. I did record it. Maybe I’ll take a look at it this morning before H wakes, or maybe I’ll wait and catch what the pundits think are the highlights – the stuff they determine we mortals should know. I’ve become so cynical.
My friend of the asparagus dream came for lunch yesterday. We ate grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and a cookie with our coffee for dessert. No asparagus!
We’ve had rain for a couple of days. H is ecstatic because of those shrubs he planted. They are happy little campers; they don’t even know they’ve been transplanted. This is the best time of year to plant things. I found some hostas on sale at Lowe’s. He plopped those in the ground, too. He got another load of mulch yesterday, and will probably put it down today. Then I think he will be finished until spring… unless we find a shrub to replace one that is not doing well in the front yard. The backyard will be pretty next spring, and really pretty in a couple of years when everything matures.
Our big maple in the front yard is beginning to change. I finally know what color it will be. The tips of the leaves are turning crimson. Nice.
My Realtor called. After almost five months, she wants to come by to “visit.” She wants to see “what we’ve done” with the house. I can see why she is successful. When you’re in sales, you have to push all the time. Everything is about contacts, so it makes staying in touch imperative. She was a pretty good Realtor. There were only one or two things that I could point to that were not the greatest, although, that doesn’t mean she was our advocate. She was not. When buying a new house, you better understand that. Beware, it’s every man for himself. You have to dot your own i’s and cross your own t’s. It’s a cruel world. Boy, I am cynical this morning. I’ll try to find a better attitude before the next post. Promise.
I’m off to catch a little of the debate. Have a good one.