Sunday

Saturday was cold, but it warmed at bit on Sunday. It warmed up enough to open windows and open doors and sit in the sun and work in the yard.

On Sunday there were hoses running and brooms sweeping and shovels shoveling and grass to mow and blankets strewn on the lawn with napping bodies on them lying in the sun. And in the afternoon there were bikes to ride down to the park, to ride on the trails thru the Oaks and Cedar and Yaupon and Possumhaw, to ride down to where the cool air blows out from the caves hidden in the undergrowth.

...

This morning his mother came to pick him up after school. He hugged his father goodbye with the sincere hug he always gives, and he picked up his lunchbox and his trombone and his backpack straining at the seams and walked out to the car with her.

As they walked up the drive he said to her, I had a good day yesterday. We laid out on blankets in the backard in the sun. And we rode bikes!

So what about the cold on Saturday. Sunday was plenty warm enough.

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