pool

What day is it, again?

Text: What day is it, again?

from d., 28.12.09

Names and some small details have been changed to protect the hard-working.
Joe was on the roof.  The forecast was for rain, and it really looked as though this may be accurate for once; anyway,  there was always the possibility of fires later in the summer, and there were no other emergencies to take care of this morning (a rare occurrence), so he decided to be pro-active and remove all the dry leaves from the roof and gutters.

It was a beautiful morning – cloudy – unlike the previous few weeks.  From his high possie, he could see his neighbours also taking advantage of the quiet and the cool.  To the east Fred (whose 10-acre block had been part of the same subdivision of a family farm that created Joe’s 25 acres) was repairing some ancient fencing to keep his few sheep from wandering during this current drought.

Bruce, in the new large house on a new generation subdivision to the south, was mowing his always-short and always-green lawn.  And just from the corner of his eye, Joe could see Graham on the other side of the big dam to the west doing some repairs on his tractor.

Ah... the luxury of space ... all these families are all living in the same area in neighboring properties, yet all have different styles of houses, different priorities, different ways of using their hobby farms.  

Joe heard a small commotion from inside his own house.  His wife’s voice rose in consternation ‘WHERE’S YOUR DAD?  I NEED HIM’. He turned on the air compressor to blow the leaves away.  His wife saw a shower of leaves hit the verandah outside the kitchen window.  She probably swore.  Joe couldn’t hear, due to the noise of the blower and the effectiveness of his ear-muffs-which-also-contained-a radio.

An hour later, when the sun was warming the metal roof a bit and he was almost done, from his unaccustomed height he spied a familiar blue van turn off the main road.  His son and young family had arrived.  

As he packed away the compressor and eased off his ear muffs, he could hear the voices inside getting more and more panicky.   If he interfered with the table-setting or food preparation, he would only make things worse.  

The blue van loomed larger as it turned into the long driveway.  It was time for him go inside and clean up and then open the wine – that would calm everyone down.  

The sweeping-up of the fallen leaves from the verandah would have to wait until another time.  

After all, it WAS Christmas day.

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