No. 575

There are 38 leaves left on the tree in the yard. Fall is a decent gust of wind away from being over. I am not looking forward to winter.

In the lawn maintenance business, there’s not much business when the weather turns. In other places, some crews can turn to snow removal to pad the books, but around here winter means 6 months of cold rain.

This past season I had some setbacks, financially. Pay for new equipment. Pay for the damage one of my guys did to some kind of fancy fish pond. Pay for some other things. I did a lot of paying, is what happened.

Now I’m standing in the kitchen – not my own kitchen—drinking this awful store brand instant coffee, and wondering how I’ll make it through until there’s leaves on that damn tree again.

“How are you doing, honey?” she asks as she steps up behind me, wrapping her arms up over my robe.

“Good,” I lie. “Really good.”

She turns to get her own coffee. I finish mine and put it down on the window sill.

One way, or another, I won’t be around here to see that tree turn green.