I like these cool mornings and warm afternoons. The former is dedicated to casual yard work, while the latter is dedicated to riding activities, like mowing on the zero turn. The casual yard work mostly involves me walking around admiring flowers and pulling errant weeds, although I did slightly enlarge one of the flowerbeds the other day. And I’m back to push mowing the tifway yard every day. It likes to be cut short and it helps with weed prevention.

Started the day yesterday on a high in the cool air, then hit a low spot in the afternoon when the big riding mower just quit. I gassed it up, but still it stayed silent. All I could imagine were the myriad times other small engines quit on me never to restart. I didn’t want another repeat. And even though I waited, and it came back to life, I still was down. Weird how little things like that can act like ice under unsuspecting feet. I guess I’m just in a state where disaster lurks behind every smile.

At this point, the only thing really making sense to me is my yard, which may explain why I like being here. It’s just dirt and water and plants. They grow and bloom and bring me peace and feel slightly within my control. Of course, it’s not as though they can up and move away. The mesquite on the fence is stuck with me as are all the other little blooming beauties, which may explain a bit of today’s dejection. The one person who wanted to be with me is gone, her engine broken along with my heart.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale