Summer’s moving in. It’s still spring, but we’re almost there. I started the ice machine in the freezer today to help refresh my brother, who rototilled half of the backyard.
It’s finally prepped for my violent visionary exploits.
The foreground will become a sunken garden, and the background (after that fence is fixed) will be a pond surrounding an island, reachable by bridge, upon which will sit a claw-footed bathtub filled with cushions.
The rest of the yard will come later, with mini-deck, jam garden, and fire pit.
EDITOR’S NOTE: “Summer” refers to a season. Not a person. Just in case you got confused and wondered where she was going to sleep.