Boom Boom

We spent a lot of time this spring removing the old overgrown and dilapidated fence on the back of our property. I chopped and hacked the Blackberry, Salmon Berry, Morning Glory and Honeysuckle back several feet past the property line to get room to put up a new fence.

Every now and then, buried deep in the brambles, I'd come across the remains of an old tennis ball, the fuzzy green skin almost all gone, the white rubber insides showing through like bleached bone. I picked them up and saved them, putting them in a row on a shelf in the woodshed, not knowing why.

I remembered how Boom Boom used to retrieve those tennis balls, catching them in the air on the first bounce, and strutting his way back to lay it at your feet for another go. My shoulder got so sore from throwing tennis balls I eventually had to get a tennis racquet to keep the game going. Every now and then one of the grandkids or I would hit one a little too hard and knock it over the fence into the bushes. Boomer would run to the fence and go on point to show us where the ball was. Some times we could reach through the thorns, grab it and resume the game but once in a while there was no way to get to it, so we'd go get a new ball. Boom Boom wouldn't have anything to do with it. He'd stay on point, whining, as if to say, “It's right there, I can smell it!” Sometimes he wouldn't accept a new ball until the next day.

Yesterday, while I was getting a wheel barrow out of the wood shed I looked at the row of ruined tennis balls and realized why I'd saved them. I dug a hole next to Boom Booms grave and returned his lost treasures.

Another Beachcomber Days

I can't help it! I love old cars more than I love a parade!
Another Beachcomber Days has come and gone. Kelly, J.C. and I only went to the car show, and went home before the "celebration" started.
Carol worked all morning baking and cooking for the firemen, drove an ambulance in the parade, got a transport to the hospital right after it ended, and was busy all afternoon with a surf rescue call. She came home pooped.
Boy, do I feel like a wimp!

Weather

I guess when you get older, griping about the weather becomes a mainstay in our lives. “That stupid weatherman on channel 8 said it was supposed to be sunny today!” or “ The Yahoo weather forecast on the Internet called for 'partly sunny' in the morning followed by 'partly cloudy' in the afternoon!”

It's easier to just look out the window, and right now my forecast is: “Rain!”

This sure has been a weird winter and spring though. In a colder than usual May we had some late frosts and then all of a sudden a few days later it got up into the 90's for two days. It was like being transported from Alaska to Florida and then back again.

Yesterday we finished up some planting and yard work just in time for this rain to move in. We've also been working on a new fence on the forested side of the yard to keep the dogs in and the Bears, Raccoons and Coyotes out. I got the fence line cleared of Blackberry, Salmonberry, and Honeysuckle vines; pulled out all of the old rotten posts and wire, and set new fence posts. We're waiting for the new wire fencing to come so we can be done with it. At our age, a few hours of hard work a day is enough, so it takes a while to finish anything.