I originally wrote this column on the last Monday evening in May. I was going to recycle it completely until I reread it and realized a few things were worth revisiting.
The apple blossoms aren't on the breeze anymore. Back then, the scent of the new blooms drifted on the wind pleasing my nose.
I still hear the moan of the lawn tractor belonging to my neighbour. The growing madness grows on. We all are in the timing race to catch the next cut on just the right day, at just the right length, and before the rain.