Grateful

I'm so grateful to be a DINK. (Double Income, No Kids.) We slept in till noon on Sunday. then DH killed demon cows while I, ignoring ironing and bills and detritus piled as high as an elephant's eyebrow, took the wandering mitten out in the back yard and hung out in the sling chair under the walnut tree. Ninety degrees with a light breeze is exquisitely ideal sling chair weather, and it happens rarely enough that I couldn't pass it by.

While knitting away, I heard an odd sound as of rain pattering through the leaves. And there was a markedly confined hail of something . . . tiny chips of something green. I peered up through the leaves and saw an eye like a bright black bead peering back at me. Then, after a few pre-emptory barks, the hail of green chips resumed. The red squirrels are feasting on green walnuts. They hold them in those clever little paws and chip off half the outer husk, then chisel through the tender new hull, and stuff their fat little cheeks with the tasty, nutritious nuts. And then, with malice aforethought, they drop the remaining half-hull onto me in my sling chair. Two squirrels and I kept ourselves well amused by this for almost three hours. Surely, I am among the most fortunate of women, to have the time free to hang out with squirrels on an August afternoon.