Drawing it First

As I have mentioned before, Mark Twain may or may not have said "History does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme."

So, here we go again. It's springlike enough, and there is enough outdoor work to be done, that my physical activity sometimes is a walk but sometimes is yard work. Or what passes for yard work when you live in the country and you cultivate the Garden of Benign Neglect.

Today, I raked pine needles. It required me to make up a boundary, a border, a line beyond which raking is ridiculous--that over there is "forest," "bush," or "brush," as it is sometimes known here. This over here? "Yard." Obviously. I can only hope that next time I go out raking I remember where that "line" is.

I have had to do things like this before. But it seems that I must learn annually both that I must drawn the line and how/where to draw the line.

And then I can rake it. (While humming "Walk the Line," of which [sadly] I know only some of the chorus tune and that one phrase. Thank God for iPods.)