Cutting the Grass

The beach grass has matured to the point that I can cut it up to putĀ into the compost, injecting some much-needed nitrogen into the mix. I took a bucket and a pair of clippers down to the beach Sunday to fill it with the long, tough blades chopped into 1-2″ segments (see An Almost Perfect Day). I gloved up; handling the grass bare handed can lead to nasty cuts, like paper cuts only worse.

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An Almost Perfect Day

Yesterday morning I set up on the veranda to enjoy the view. I took a second cup of coffee, binoculars, a camera, a radio for catching the last of the morning’s news, and writing supplies, so I could sit and write a letter to Aly.

I try hard to write her once a week, but with the pressures of play rehearsal these last weeks, I’ve had very little luck in that regard. Sunday, with the first two performances behind us (which went rather well, more on that eventually) I resolved to leave the lines alone for a day, and relax.

This looks like a good place to write! (Photo: Mark A. Zeiger.)

This looks like a good place to write! (Photo: Mark A. Zeiger.)

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