Our last day of the long Memorial Day weekend meant a morning of yard work.
Tag team mowing with the husband on his new toy and me slogging along with the old push mower.
It was a gorgeous day.
The pear tree was blooming.
The mallows I’d planted were thriving.
And everything had finally turned green.
Except the baby barn which I decided to start painting that afternoon.
Let me preface this by saying I used to love to paint.
I used to.
Until I had to use an artist’s tiny brush around all the nooks, corners, flashing and crooked angles on that beast.
Did I wear some paint, get covered in dirt, rip my pants, tumble off a ladder and work until almost 8:00 at night?
Yes I did.
But paint was applied.
And covered a multitude of sins.
Three sides done, one to go!