There they are again.
Small green insistences pushing through soil that still looks tired from winter. Late March is mostly mud and memory. Nothing grand. Nothing showy. And yet these bright threads rise as if they’ve received a private memo from the sun.
I image most of us like to think we’re different in so many ways. We’re absolutely incomparable on some level or another. But are we? Look around. We all dress remarkably alike, especially us guys. In a culture that tolerates diversity, we don’t really express it much. Why?
… in the midst of the not-so-pretty.
Start the season with pruning.
I decided to go with another gas company to save money. Mistake. Didn’t save money because of turnover costs. More importantly we discovered a large leak in the pipe under the house. We could smell and hear it, but not see it. I’m really glad I asked the gas dude to turn it all on and light the stove pilot light because if I did it I wouldn’t have noticed the leak and it probably would have accumulated under the house until it blew. It probably would have been an explosion large enough to blow me to Mt. Lassen.
