Greetings from my backyard swing. I must head out this morning for auto-maintenance service and then fill up with fuel. I notice gasoline prices bouncing about these days; if it gets too high the subject will no doubt be introduced in a Presidential debate.
My backyard grass looks great this year. Back-in-the-day, Roustio backyards had a tough time growing grass. There was too many people trampling around the yard. We had a basketball court. We played croquet. Once in awhile we strung a badminton net and I recall an area for 'washer-tossing' and horseshoes. Of course, our brick Bar-BQ pit where we never barbecued but burned trash offered interesting sights and critter dwelling.
I especially enjoyed watching my father's neighborhood buddies play backyard-croquet. The game always started out with friendly chatter and happy spirits but about the second time dad placed his foot atop 'his' ball, next to Sherill Coleman's ball and drove that croquet ball down the ditch adjacent to Kingshighway the friendly bantering turned rather terse and headed South! Ain't nothin' funnier than grown men pouting.
Families don't seem to play those backyard games these days. Of course, we don't get to know our neighbor's unless their tree branches start hanging over our property or the dog barks too early in the morning. I get along with all my neighbor's and that's good. I recall years ago when my neighbor was always upset with my German Shepard's early morning barking. I wouldn't let the dog outside until after 8:00AM, but I did often cut my grass at 6:30AM. on Saturday mornings.
Gotta run...have a good day!
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