Saturday Chillin’

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Yes, it has suddenly become that time of year again.  Perhaps because of weather conditions, perhaps it’s just Robbo’s imagination, but the trees seem to be shedding very quickly this year.  As I look about me, the ones I can see all look to be well over half naked, whereas this time just last week there was very little doing.

As to colors? Eh, I’d give them a C+.  A few splashes of red and orange here and there, but mostly brownish yellows.  And this is among the maples, too.  Question: Does the age of a tree have anything to do with the colors it throws?

So Ol’ Robbo spent several hours this morning cleaning up the piles Mrs. R had raked yesterday and mowing over the rest of them.  I think that fresh-cut grass is still my favorite suburban outdoor smell, but damp, rotting leaves hold a special place for me, too.  (I’m just weird that way.)  I also enjoy it when bits of leaf-mulch get on the mower engine and start to smoke and burn.  (It’s too bad traditional leaf-burning is no longer a thing, but I’m sure some knuckle-head would probably reduce our entire neighborhood to ashes if it was.)

Speaking of ashes, because it’s such a pleasantly brisk day, and because Middle Gel is home visiting from school for the weekend, I think we’re going to light up the fire pit after din-dins this evening.  (For some reason, we’ve hardly ever used the thing except for disposing of empty charcoal bags, even though we’ve had it for years.)  The Gels no doubt will want to fool about with marshmallows, but I’m thinking there’s some Laphroaig that’s been sitting on the sideboard for quite some time and it might be a good idea to check and ensure that it’s still in good fighting trim.  (Especially as we get that extra hour tonight!)

And speaking of beverages, I should note that somebody here took me to task for stating that post-yardwork iced coffee with milk is the nectar of the Gods some weeks back.  I should have clarified that this was strictly a summah thing.  (And in that respect, I restate my claim and will gladly give satisfaction to anyone who disputes it.)  At the moment I’m sitting out on the porch with a nice, hot mug of pure black (which see), and it’s definitely the thing for the time and place.

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