Never heard tree frogs here before. Now the trees between me and Grace Plaza are alive with them.
Excellent Sunday painting, and then a great and fruitful labor in the garden. “Mulch” is the answer to most of my problems there.
I heard a great limb fall from the sweet gum in the night. The wind was still, the night absolutely silent. The tree is haunted. It fell in Kelly’s yard, so I had a brutal clean-up job to do in the morning. Phoned John the tree guy (all arborists are handsome, at least around here) about fixing that and a few other things. Had noticed that Carolyn has a dead tree, so I went over to ask if she wanted that removed while John was at it. Her granddaughter ( 6 or 7) came to the doors and said, “Who the hay-ell are you?”
“Is that really what you meant to say?” says I
After a pause she says, “My grandma is on the phone. She ain’t quite done yet. May I take a message?” She obviously knew both modes of discourse. I wonder why her default choice was ignorant redneck. Anyway, she told me her name, Isabella, by spelling it very carefully. She said her middle name was Jolene, but she didn’t know how to spell it. I said, “I can spell it,” and I did. She said, “How the hay-ell did you know that?” One doesn’t even need to speculate about what goes on in that house.
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