The Crescent.

The night before last we had the arrival of our one day of summertime. It was imperative that the crescent get a jump on our sad, neglected, mossy yards. Not that the we here in crescenthood are chronic yard neglectors; it can be simply stated that we can "blame it on the rain, ya-eh ya -eh- a."

The "men" from the crescent began the task of yard maintainence. They heaved and hauled machinery through the yards, and up and down the streets of the crescent. I watched some of these boys hard at work, and some of them made me laugh. One guy needed a smoke break every couple of passes, until someone yelled from this end to that end that his breaks were holding up the line. I watched the fellow across the street just ran with the machine. (But on closer inspection I don't know why he went to the effort, he didn't let the machine do a real job, so it may have been all for nothing).

I hired my boy to rake up the back yard which was full of long clumps of grass. He took the time to look in his wallet, count his money, and then agree to helping me. I was actually impressed with his workmanship, and the fact that I didn't have to tell him to go out back and rake while I was held captive in conversation in the front yard. I realize that money was his golden ticket to riches, but I was still impressed with his initiative to do this on his own.

The delicate religious man wanted in on the yard upkeep day, and set up his turn after he came home from church. OK, calm down, this isn't a slight on religious guys... because they are good, they have their place in the world... I am just stating that this is my observation of this one neighbour on the street for craps sake! He had his followers raking and cleaning as he maneuvered with the big machinery.

One fellow eventually showed up in the Pickaspats driveway with the contraption that pokes holes in your yard making it look like their was a "dog rave" on your front lawn. He was out of breathe, and just standing in a daze once he unloaded the machine into the "Pickaspats" driveway. He told us between large gasps for air that he needed to give instructions on how to use the machine. Bossy little me told him not to the worry.. ( I didn't say this but I really wanted to...) that "King know it all" was in the house, and there was no need for instruction. (That would be the husbandman visiting Mr. Pickaspat). The out of breathe character seemed pleased that he could waver his way back to his freshly primped lawn, and sit and stare at all his hard work in disbelief that he had come out the yard grooming torture still alive.

The last people that I saw using it was the Pickaspats. I could just see his hair start to plume and the scowling mount on the Mr.'s face as he realized that the lovely Mrs. had offered up both pieces of machinery for his use, after he had returned from work for the day. Since the husbandman and I were now standing in their driveway being useless we offered up our services. I raked and the husbandman used the monster machinery to rip moss and create the poo pellet trails. Life was back to general pickaspatish ways once the work was done.... so much so that I invited outselves to their house, and then proceeded to stay until midnight. Our laughter knows no time limits.

So far today it is silent on the crescent... it looks like another day of high clouded sunshine in our midst, maybe it will just be a simple car wash day.

I know for me... I am off this weekend... Yae for that... now I can really see what goes on here on the weekends...