Several Shades of Black

The thermometer says it's 88 degrees F as I write this. It was a beautiful T-shirt wearing morning when Ozzie and I set out for our walk.

The building site nearby was buzzing with activity. A blueprint covered table in the middle has a striped umbrella over it. A front end loader moved dirt from the mounds which had been created when the foundation was dug. A small Bobcat moved in its wake, tamping and smoothing. This is no easy feat considering the fact that the mounds are full of boulders the size of Ozzie. The foundations have been poured and the walls will soon begin to rise. The wood used for the forms for the foundation is being stacked and taken away, and new wood for the walls and deck has been delivered.

The sun glinted streamed through the oak trees. The grasses are beginning to dry, their heads disappearing in Ozzie's heavy oat and lodging there. I've written before about the various devices these clever plants use to hitch a ride on anything passing, including the breeze. Foxtails are the worst--they have one-way barbs that allow them to slide easily into an ear or a paw, but they can't back out. We've had to have them surgically removed from our dogs numerous times.

They don't stop the cows. The black Angus herd is in the pasture closest to the road, so Ozzie decided to go see if they were related to him. He soon lost interest in the cows , distracted by the numerous lizards, but the cows kept a watchful eye on him until we moved past.

Only one of the creeks still has any water in it, and that will soon be gone. Vetch, California poppies and tiny yellow flowers are slowly disappearing into the grass as it grows taller. Almost time to mow the field of dreams.

It was amazing how much earth had been moved by the time we passed the building site again. The loader was silhouetted against the sky for a moment until we headed down the hill to our house, but the sound of the beeping has followed us around all day--even in the house.*

*I have fantasies about what should happen to the person who invented the beeping sound that emanates from a backing truck. I liked the buses in Japan. Every bus carried a young woman in hat and white gloves, who leapt off the bus and blew a whistle when the bus was backing up.