Spring

It is spring, well at least according to the calendar it is, but Mother Nature and Ole Man Winter sometimes battle it out well beyond the calendars designated season dates, but I have been mowing the lawn and I think that rates up there as a sign of spring. I bounce along on the John Deere and think of Trent telling me "don't race track mow." Which is of course what I do. I remember when we lived in ES we had Jerry mow the lawn and weedeat every other week. John didn't want to do yard work. Then we looked at this property and one thing John said to me was "We can work out in the yard.", except that I am the one who does all the mowing(about 3 hours a week)and John has yet to weedeat. "We can work out in the yard." Yeah right. I did tell him if the blueberries don't either grow or produce blueberries they are getting mowed down this Fall. There is no room for blueberry slackers. John cut up the redbud tree that was sacrificed in the storm the other night. He cut a few branches though and brought them in and made an arrangement. The iris are as of yet not producing any flowers, but they are usually pretty slow, of course this year everything is slow. I remember this was the time of year that Dad sold all those flowers at the store. At night we would have to put them on the back of this semi-trailor(where did he get that?) and in the morning bring them out. In June he would bring home the flowers that didn't sell and he would make a flower bed in the backyard. I think it would be where the stock tank was the year before. Remember the stock tank Sharon. That was his version of a swimming pool, until one year he actually let us join the city pool. I remember one year I was so excited about planting the flowers that I stayed up all night so that he couldn't take off in the morning without getting the flowers planted. We sold a ton of flowers and vegetable plants. I also remember a couple of summer trips to Worlds of Fun. There were a few rides Dad really enjoyed. Well that is my walk down memory lane, but I can't believe you guys let a customer stick his head into a pickle jar and then wouldn't help him get it out. What kind of customer service do you call that?