Pair them with summer, and they become a sheer pleasure.
When Bob went to mow the lawn, I decided to join him and keep him a bit of company. Many repeated offers or should I call them requests to show me how to mow the various lawns seem to keep on falling on deaf ears. Goodness, how hard can it be when I see many a grandmother pushing the mower gracefully about? I've come to the conclusion that Bob loves to do the mowing business, as it does entail a symmetry which appeals to my man. Truth be told, it's much more fun for me to sit and read my book and wave at Bob when he passes me by.
Anyway, there I was sitting reading outside on a picture perfect end of a day. Blue skies with a few white vapour trails, green trees, ripening cherries, birds exchanging the news of the day and the distinct motor of a lawnmower. The perfume that permeated all around me had a magic all of its own. Cut grass, is there anything nicer? ( Even the Bodyshop used to have a similar scent on offer ).
Once or twice I went to stand closer to Bob when he stopped the mower to empty the grass container and that's when I heard the cheerful sound a bus load of tourists made while visiting a local Buschenschank. For some reason I think that they were Bavarians... I could hear someone singing beer tent ditties with gusto, happy conviction and slightly off key.
A big party was on the go and about half an hour later I noticed a local car circling ever so carefully until a parking space was found. Of course everyone knows everyone else's car and the guy in question is a ubiquitous party goer...I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was invited.
That is the beauty of small village life, one gets the time to sit and enjoy life, spending time with family and learn to appreciate something as simple as a late summer's afternoon for what it is....a present.
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