A'mowing we will go...

We went up to the "wee house" today. It was time to mow the grass and do whatever other chores made themselves evident. What a beautiful day! It was totally quiet. Warm in the sun but cool in the shade.
I found a robin's nest on top of a step ladder that I have hanging on the side of the out building. I thought the nest would be empty by now, but no. The mother robin is still on the nest. I frightened her off the nest a couple of times in order to get a shovel that was hanging next to the ladder. To compensate her for her troubles, I filled a shallow earthenware dish with water and left it nearby for her to drink and bathe in. It hasn't rained up there in quite awhile so the usual watering holes have dried up.
The lawn mowing and weed trimming took so long that I didn't have time to wash the vinyl siding like I wanted to. That will be the next project. Probably next weekend. The association will be celebrating Independence Day this weekend as well. Peace and quiet will probably retreat higher up the mountain for a couple of days. Then it will be July! I put a fresh coat of preservative on the deck every July, so that will be a good reason to spend a couple more days there.
If my writing style seems to have changed, it's probably because I'm being influenced by a book I'm reading. It's called "One Man's Wilderness". It's the story of Richard Proenneke, a man who dreamed of living in the wilderness and made it happen. This story is his account of the day-to-day activities and explorations, from supplying his own food and building his own cabin at Twin Lakes in Lake Clark National Park, Alaska. He was 51 years old when his adventure began. His writing style is short, curt sentences, often without a subject noun or verb. For example, "Up at 4:00. Minus 48 degrees. Sourdough biscuits and honey for breakfast." He was quite a talented guy: Stone mason, carpenter, tinsmith, cook, hunter/gatherer/fisherman, survivalist, and naturalist. One article I read said he stayed on at his little cabin until the cold winters forced him out when he was 82! He died 4 years later. I don't know how he managed the loneliness but I admire him for living his life to the beat of his own drum.