The church across the way has for some reason taken us under its wing—they came to our rescue when Jane was sick last year, laying paths in the back yard, around the koi pond, helping with weeding, and such, and laying the very heavy boundary stones, moving our load of rock up onto the level of the lawn and putting it in place, and generally doing in one day things that would have taken us all summer.

They are coming back tomorrow to do their thing, move basalt chips, lay paths in front, and generally to help us get in shape for summer. They are, the next week, having a garage sale, and we have ton’ o’ stuff to offload, literally not the kitchen sink, but the bathroom one, and so on and so on. This was an offer we couldn’t refuse—or afford, if we had to hire them: we contribute cookies and sinks and they contribute labor, making it possible for us to get our whole lives sorted out.. We were supposed to be at Miscon, not as guests, but as attendees, and I’m going to miss my old corresponding buddy George RR Martin—and John Dalmas; but we just can’t turn this down. Our wheelbarrow finally broke down (one of those really tough Lowe’s best ones) and we got another. So we’ll have two wheelbarrows going and people with rakes and weedcloth and weedcloth pins, and it’s all going to be so good!

We’re not members. They’re just being nice. Maybe one year we can go across the way and help them gardenize their corner, which could be a great garden.