One shelf was loaded by me, one by the kids. You decide.

The skies seem clearer, still.

Feels like this should be a coded message.

I think it’s time to declare the rose bush done. Hasn’t bloomed in years and there’s nothing green left. We’ll raise a glass to it, perhaps.

Some new families on the street have filled the place with kids, bikes and scooters abound. And, sometimes, they get left behind.

Lost a few branches in the storm.

Sometimes, my yard work gets aggressive.