ALL IN A DAY’S WORK
Wasn’t it nice yesterday? It was sunny and warm and calm.
Putting on cedar shingles in the rain. Weaving the outside corners, taking care to shed properly between the old and new. The water runs off the valley right above my hands and from my soaked gloves down my arms.
The gulls are hunkered down somewhere, the hawks too. Maybe the eagles have taken a ride to the higher elevations.
As much white as green is in the agitated water that crashes on the beach.
The wind whips my face, as does the Green Guard I hold in my hand, trying to get it on the wall. I laugh. This is all in a days work.
I watched a Red Tail on the wing take his prey in the ditch by the storage business along the highway, the Marsh Hawk and his mate being antagonized by the crows, and
The Blue Heron hunt along the edge of the rushes.
I understand that this client can be a pill sometimes. So I ask him about his hobby, so evident throughout his house.
His face lights up, and for a few moments we are friends.
We can see Mt. Rainier, the Olympics, and the Cascades that rise behind Everett. We can watch the evolution of winter that paints these gray rocks white, and brings out the talk of snowboards and skis.
A bounty hunter, an artist, a drummer or two, or three. Boaters, skiers, parents, coaches, hunters, fishers, all as colorful as the hats we wear, or don’t. I’m in good company. This too is all in a days work.
There’s a llama on the road, no, two. That guy looks like he could use some help, so I stop. I direct traffic and prevent the creatures from heading toward the highway. Fifteen minutes later I’m on my way.
Sometimes I need to crank on my attitudes as well a twisted joist, and I can tweak my skills a little bit more as much as a precise mitered corner. Every day is so different.
I like what I do, because this is all in a days work.
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