I dug out another old posthole yesterday. This one had the complication of being right beside a second old posthole. So, there were two blobs of concrete and rotted timber. Talk about hard.

Spent a few chill hours on the golf course yesterday. We got around in under four hours, which is how the game of golf is meant to be played. My score was high because my putting and chipping was it’s usual unglamorous self.

Some mornings I wake up and my words are right there in bed beside me. Then on some mornings, I find them sitting comfortably on the couch or hanging around the coffee maker.

Rain. Nice. Soft rain, too. The rain barrel that was nearly empty yesterday is now full. It would be good if it fell all day, but I have a feeling it’s a short term thing.

I got my book yesterday. Six Impossible Things. It’s less than 100 pages but I think it’s going to open up the world of quantum mechanics for me, or at least give me something to think about that’s bigger than myself.

Sunday was a day of rest for me. I did find and fix a leak in the pool plumbing. Courtesy of a Mockingbird.

I’m doing a pretty great job at tearing up things. I spent most of yesterday digging out 80 lbs of dried cement from an old post hole. The post in question had rotted.

The mornings of cold and brisk are at hand. It feels good when I step outside to feed the cats. And it’s really nice when I need to do some work during the day. And there is still work to do, particularly on the little shed.

The Thanksgiving feast is over. I spent the day with friends and their families. It was fun and good company. Now I am home. The house is quiet. There are no decorations for Christmas this year.

I seem to be hell bent on examining the limits of my body’s performance capabilities. Yesterday I discovered when tightening a pipe clamp that I could exert too much force on my thumb and that the joint was weak point.

Lost track of my joy yesterday. Don’t know where I put it. It disappeared somewhere around mid-morning.

The tin roof is on, four sheets. There is nary a shimmy to be found. The little shed feels sturdy. Now it’s on to the finishing work.

The first of the four roof tins is in place. It took me a while. First of all, I realized I needed additional lumber for the rafters. More feels better and secure. Then I had to overcome an earlier mistake which came about because I got ahead of myself.

Physical labor is good for what ails ya. I may have to go on a building program. Trimmed tin yesterday on my little shed and got another good night’s sleep. Woke up once for a drink and went right back to sleep.

I watched my little bird go to bed last night. It landed on the birdbath. Surveyed its surroundings. Then flitted up to its little notch at the top of the cedar porch pole and settled in for the night.

Hooray for first frost. It came last night. The grass was dusted with bits of ice this morning. It didn’t last long. The sun saw it’s duty and did it. It’s good to feel a little cold in the morning, however.

I like going into my back lots at night and looking at the stars. It’s dark in the lots and we’re still country enough that light pollution is at a minimum. So, the night sky is starlit. I also like checking in on my little porch bird, huddled up at the top of its pole, sound asleep.

The pump house is coming along. It turns out I have more tin than I imagined. Plus, I’m making do with what I have so, old fence slats are filling in where needed.

It feels odd to be writing about small things when there’s a big thing happening right down the road, but this big thing isn’t a personal tale like my other big things. Those were peculiar to me but relatable, an illness in the family, a death, things we all suffer.