Chopping weeds on a Sunday morn.....

Sunday.....a warm, quiet, almost lazy Spring day with the constant buzz of the traffic on Sunrise Boulevard reminding me of the camp on the Snake River in Wyoming in June of '91.....the Spring runoff then reminded Millyrose 'n me of the traffic on Sunrise Boulevard minus of course, the sirens, the squeal of brakes 'n the sound of occasional crashes as the never-ending Great California Road Race roars on 'n on 'n on....
Errol Flynn died at age 50 after a young life spent in the pursuit of excess....there is nothing inherently wrong with excess, unless of course, it's done to excess as Flynn proved by dying at an age that only children think is old...I remember those golden days when if a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing excessively...that was when hangovers faded with the golden glow of soft afternoons fading into magnificent evenings....back before the hacking cough of too many cigarettes, the love handles 'n soft bellies of too much beer. Back when you could eat anything 'n never gain a pound....Ah, Eden....'n then that durn snake showed up 'n whispered of the joys t'be found outside the garden of youth....
Willie loves to chase anything that moves be it a live chicken or a dead leaf...Rusty is older 'n he only occasionally acts like he might want to chase something..that is, until he remembers 'n then he stops 'n looks around 'n decides that he'd rather walk...either that or maybe just lie in the sun.....Ah well, it's Sunday!