I feel so much better this morning. I had a great nights sleep, no headache (yet), and I had help cleaning out my built-in back porch. All Winter, it becomes a depository, repository, and almost a suppository for undecided things and things difficult to put away in the Winter. Everything is sorted; some things are tossed, some saved , and the others in boxes to go to the school's yard sale. The only things there now are the things that belong there or will be going to the yard sale neatly boxed. It was several hours of work and I am glad that it is done.
It was a cold enough to build a fire in my wood burner. It felt very nice to have a nice toasty house this morning. I like the wood burner's heat better than the oil heat. It is more constant than on and off heat of the oil.
Yard work, not hard work, when I take my time.
Trim here, use the shears, with the ladder to climb.
Bug squash, window wash, cleaning away Winter's dirt.
Colt's foot, weeds are pulled, plant beds to convert.
Moving growing things, transplant and replant.
Wipe chairs, mending stairs, fix a table's cant.
Sorting. aborting things that have collected.
Paint trim, scrape and skim the things neglected.
Hose flush, soap and brush wash down the siding.
Sweeping, unheaping the junk colliding.
Screen doors, other chores, raking up stray leaves.
Yard work, not hard work, reducing my pet peeves.
This poem seems vaguely familiar. I recopied it and that may be why. If it's a repost, I apologize, but it seemed to fit in with yesterday's activities.