Brush Piles
The brush pile is gone, hauled away in a big sixteen foot trailer with four sides. A lone man with a skid-steer did the job. He also hauled away some old pallets, the skeletal remains of mulch pits from the days when we gardened in that area. And he also took the old landscape cloth I dug up last week in the front yard. Then he tidied up the grounds before leaving. It’s nice to have that area cleaned. Now I have to figure out a plan for going forward because brush is inevitable and I know more will come.
This year’s spring cleaning is a far reaching affair. And it feels good to get things in order all around the place, especially big things like old brush piles and rotting wood and weedy gardens that went astray. The above ground pool is even ready for swimmers. Last year it turned into an algae garden after I took its winter cover off. I was better prepared this year, and now it is ready to help me fend off those hot summer days.
Of course, I still have things to do. Fences to mend and gardens to tend. But that feels pretty normal. Part of life. And not the overwhelming, I’m paralyzed part. Because there have been times the last few years, when that’s how I felt. Paralyzed. Things these days feel more or less normal. And I may even find time to get up in the attic and start cleaning that out. To start sweeping away the dust and debris of more than 75 years of living and 50 years of marriage. To clean up the memories and to save what really needs saving.